Walking the Talk

“Nice Halloween suit,” says Manuel.

“Better than your sissy blue,” says Victor.

It is a fine Friday morning for two frumpy old men, shrugging and sighing and beginning a walk they have made every weekday morning for the last four years.

Around the Rose Bowl. Side by side. Wearing their colors.

Manuel Verdugo, 66, dresses in UCLA’s.

Victor Martinez, 68, dresses in USC’s.

Says Manuel: “Do your athletes really pay people to take tests for them?”

Answers Victor: “Somebody should pay your athletes to take a drivers’ education class, especially the chapter on handicapped parking.”

For four years, they have been a startling contradiction to those who have passed them on the three-mile loop, cardinal red walking with powder blue, one guy waving two taunting fingers while the other guy throws up a hand in disgust.

They always walk counterclockwise.

Manuel usually walks on the outside.

Says Manuel: “So I can protect my Trojan grandfather.”

Says Victor: “A car hits him, the next thing he knows, Satan is asking him, ‘Who gave you that ugly shirt?’ ”

They are two retired factory workers who began walking together for their health.

But today, they are much more.

Today, they are symbolic of a city that, for the 72nd time, embarks upon a taunting, teasing, wonderful neighborhood stroll.

USC versus UCLA.

A hometown against itself, yet grandly together, all in the same afternoon.

The best rivalry in college football, because it’s the only one that never leaves town.

The actual football teams will spend three hours together in the Rose Bowl. But the real rivalry is about what has been happening the rest of the year, on the streets outside.

Says Manuel: “USC is a bunch of spoiled kids.”

Says Victor: “Bruins are cheapskates. When is the last time you’ve bought me coffee?”

The frumpy old men are like thousands whose relationships have been polarized by today’s game.

They are the best of old friends.

Yet it’s a miracle they haven’t killed each other.

Says Manuel: “We will win this year if we give the ball to that little mouse.”

Says Victor: “You will win only if we don’t show up.”

For years they had worked at a dairy plant, where they brushed up against each other enough to know about their loyalties.

Says Manuel: “It was fun, reminding him about the Bruin winning streak.”

Says Victor: “What winning streak?”

They retired, went their separate ways, then one day spotted each other on the loop.

Manuel had been ordered to walk because of a bad back.

Victor had been ordered to walk because of a heart attack.

It was a match made, if not in heaven, then certainly only in Los Angeles.

Says Manuel: “I saw him in his USC stuff and I asked him, ‘Did you raid the Dumpster again?’ ”

Says Victor: “I saw him and felt sorry for him.”

So they walked, and talked, and soon they were doing it every weekday, so much that the Rose Bowl’s morning community of joggers and walkers and bikers began to notice.

When Victor doesn’t show up because of an illness or doctor’s appointment, people notice.

Says Manuel: “I tell them, ‘He feels so bad about the Trojans, he could no longer go on living.’ ”

And when Manuel misses ...

Says Victor: “I tell them, ‘He is ashamed, like all Bruins are ashamed.’ ”

Says Manuel: “I am proud. That victory bell will be having blue paint on it this year.”

Says Victor: “It will be kind of hard to cover the three coats of red paint.”

Says Manuel: “Not any harder than when it had eight coats of blue paint.”

Every day the jibes go back and forth, rips of Bob Toledo, pokes at Pete Carroll, talk of bad referees and great finishes.

Not discussed, however, are old school days.

Because neither man actually went to his favorite school.

In fact, neither man even went to college.

That’s another reason this rivalry rocks. You don’t need a student loan or transcript to participate.

Says Manuel: “I’ve loved UCLA since the time I went there as a young man, for parties. Oh, the booze and the women! Oh my!”

Says Victor: “It figures.”

Says Manuel: “At least UCLA is a school with life.”

Says Victor: “When I was growing up, we used to go to the Coliseum to sell programs. I would walk across the street and see the football players warming up. Man, that was something. All that tradition. I wanted to be part of that.”

Says Manuel: “Tradition? You got rid of John Robinson.”

Says Victor: “So? We also got rid of Bob Toledo.”

Another thing they don’t discuss is their seats for the game.

They have never gone together. They have never even watched it on television together.

They will stay home today, with their families as usual, holler for three hours, then prepare their best insults and excuses for when they meet again Monday.

Many other rivalries are about one day. USC-UCLA is about a lifetime.

Says Manuel: “Then it will start again for another year.”

Says Victor: “It’s going to be hard, him listening to me talk about the victory.”

Says Manuel: “UCLA wins, 28-25.”

Says Victor: “USC wins, 28-10.”

As they approach their cars, their lap finished, they casually mention that all the walking has improved Manuel’s back and helped Victor’s heart.

And, says Manuel: “This is really good for us in other ways.”

Says Victor: “We talk about things other than football.... “

For the first time in the walk, there is a quiet pause.

Says Manuel: “Um, yeah ... we also talk about how you guys never won anything in basketball.”’

*

Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com.