How The Other Half Lives

I almost feel sorry for T.J. Simers.

The poor guy had to travel to Nebraska for a series of columns poking fun at our Midwestern friends.

If only he'd known they'd pay us a visit a few months later. It would have saved him the trip.

Sure, Illini are not Huskers nor Buckeyes ... but all those Midwesterners seem to have a passion for sweater vests. Jim Tressel's scarlet and gray is a tad less garish than the orange ones you'll see around town this week.

Since both Rose Bowl teams were staying in Century City, I decided to stop by and check on the progress of the T.J. Simers Memorial Midwest Exchange Program (or TJSMMWEP, for short).

From the outside, you could see flags hanging from balconies of the Illinois team hotel. Actually, some looked like beach towels. Maybe they had just discovered that Century City is nowhere near the beach.

It was evident that the regalia was being flown by a large contingent of alumni and boosters. They opted to support their team by staying in the same hotel, allowing them to partake in that hallowed LA fan tradition -- stalking.

It was also clear that most of the people staying at the upscale digs were older and well-off. The Illini are surprisingly popular amongst octogenarians. Younger, broker fans without football skills didn't have the luxury of staying at a place called The Plaza.

According to a photographer from Champaign, the Illinois student newspaper had a tiny budget and eight staffers wanted to make the trip. Since one was from LA, he volunteered his family's couch (and, presumably, floor). That left just enough money to take the group 2,000 miles by Greyhound.

Back in Century City, I walked around the pool wearing jeans and a button down shirt. I actually felt under-dressed next to some members of the Illini Nation. On the other extreme, the brave and pasty who took a dip made me appreciate my sunglasses' glare-reduction.

The local Champaign paper was distributed freely in the hotel lobby. Front page, above the fold, was a giant picture of the team's marching band walking past Bubba Gump's Shrimp Factory. Towards the bottom they buried less significant news, like the assassination of the Pakistani Prime Minister.

Everybody I talked to commented on a "sea of orange" from O'Hare Airport to the Century City Mall. Even the hotel bar had a permanent orange decor. While the happy-go-lucky shade of the Illini did not cut quite as imposing a figure as the burnt variety from two years ago, the volume was impressive considering Halloween was two months past.

Speaking of the mall, I stopped by to see how Illinoisans were taking to something tre' LA -- Pinkberry. Normally a haven for young hipsters and anime junkies, an employee of the frozen "yogurt" establishment told me most of the Illini patrons were older. It turns out they'd seen the place in AmEx commercials and read about the company's growth in the business section.

A pair of firefighters who made the trip satisfied their sightseeing goals by knocking on the doors of firehouses around town. Sure, they compared notes and techniques ... but they were most excited to set foot in the station that was used as the basis for the 1970's series "Emergency!" Illinois' bravest were also impressed by the scale of everything, and interested to learn about the Santa Ana winds and wildfires that we contend with in the Southland.

Down the street, it was a different tale.

Walking into the Trojan's team hotel, a forlorn banner hung over one of the entrances. You might have thought USC was the underdog in this match up.

I mentioned all the banners at the Illinois hotel to the concierge. "We don't allow that," she cooed. But that wasn't the only reason why the USC hotel seemed so sterile.

The Trojans were getting ready for a game in their own backyard. Their fans weren't going to flock to the hotel when they had a perfectly good couch to sit on. Besides, USC seems to be in the Rose Bowl every year.

That's when it dawned on me -- this team is so robotic, so professional, that it feels like they should be in the NFL. Granted, an obscene number of these players will make a living on Sundays, but it appeared that they were already a part of the No Fun League. That's why people miss the electricity of Reggie Bush. That's why people were drawn to the passion of Mark Sanchez. That's fun stuff. Ultimately, this was a year of ridiculous expectations. Those are hard to live up to when your best players are a nose tackle and a tight end.

USC just seems to be going through the paces. Pete Carroll's biggest challenge may be keeping things fun. Sure, winning is fun -- but is that all they do?

Carroll is a guru of the mental game, so he's well suited for the job. The players have been insisting that they're excited and up for the big game. But there's room for doubt.

Walking away from the USC hotel, isolated on the outskirts of Century City, the empty streets added a surreal overtone. All sterile. No fun. The clank of construction equipment was all that echoed down the concrete corridors. The so-called Avenue of the Stars? I felt like Tom Cruise having a Vanilla Sky moment.

Moments later I passed the Illini hotel again. Tourists with goofy grins chit-chatted as they stepped off of buses.

To those Illinois fans, this may feel like the greatest place on earth.

At least until kickoff.

Comments

[L.A.]

Us So-Calers will always know that Southern California is the Happiest Place on Earth. Especially when it is supposed to be 75 degrees tomorrow.