Chapter 19

Christmas in Kansas was a good time. Once ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ was over, I drove one of our small buses instead of my truck, so my Indian wives could join Toby and William and also experience the magic and wonder that are Christmas lights.

After presents the next day and lunch on Christmas Day itself, the tradition of people coming by continued as well. Coach Thompson brought out the 1985 Kansas State Football trophy, since the Salthawks had been back to back winners. I wasn’t sure what to make of it when both Charley and David Koch stopped in at the same time as Warren Buffet. Charley clued me in. I was now the largest employer in the state. Warren told me he’d made a killing short selling drug company stocks, and even though we weren’t really partners in anything, he was willing to do so beginning in April, after Shiva was dealt with.

“Warren, you know I invested a little bit in some stocks last year. Plus, courtesy of a few deals, I own a bit of a number of companies as well. As long as we’re not working at cross purposes, I don’t have any objection to you talking to Margie at that time.”

He frowned. “Why can’t I talk to you?”

“Well, if my week of ER work is any indication, I’m not even going to see my family from April until the end of the school year. I’m doing my residency that quarter.”

“That sort of makes sense, but ... why?”

I chuckled, and said, “Warren, you have a lot of people who work for you, and work at companies you own. But if you wanted to, you could sell off those companies, or tear down a building and sell the land, right?”

He nodded.

“I don’t just own the companies. That’s the difference between an employer and an absolute monarch. I own the whole country. Every building, every street, every road, and even every business in the Kingdom is mine. You could walk into one of your businesses tomorrow and fire everyone if you wanted. I could walk into any building in my Kingdom and kill everyone. You’re responsible to the laws of whatever nation you’re operating in. I’m responsible to me, myself, and I. Well, my wives, too, but that’s it. That’s one reason Fort Riley isn’t just owned by me, it’s now part of my Kingdom. Not because I want to kill anyone, but because the laws of the United States were changed, supposedly to protect the workers, but mostly so that expensive equipment would have to be added that was only made by one certain company that just so happened to contribute heavily to the re-election campaign of a couple US Senators. It also just so happens that said expensive equipment also screws with the manufacturing process in such a way that making my antiviral AIDS cure would cost more than twenty thousand dollars a dose. Sure, some drug company could’ve made it – for those people who could afford it. We ditch the expensive equipment – which increases the risk to the workers by a whopping zero point zero zero two percent – and suddenly the per dose cost drops to twenty bucks. Forty with labor.”

He shook his head. “Sometimes the stupidity and greed of politicians surprises me. Not very often, mind you, but sometimes. I’ve seen the tapes of what the Messenger did to the House of Representatives. Deservedly so, too.”

Thursday morning, I got up early to kiss everyone goodbye, only to find out I would have some company. Niranjana and Sukhjeet were returning to California with me. This wasn’t just because my wives were concerned that I needed a minder. Both of us still needed some final work done on our costumes. Although for some reason, everyone else seemed to call them our coronation attire. Sukhjeet had also been getting official outfits made as well. After all, she was a Princess of the Kingdom and would need to dress accordingly.

One thing I hadn’t planned on, but should have expected, was the media interest. The winner of the Heisman going up against the third place finisher for the Heisman made for some great sports news. Especially when it came out that we were actually two and a half point underdogs to Iowa.

The first time I heard of it, John Paye and I were in an interview with an ESPN reporter. The reporter asked, “So, the official line came out just before we sat down for this live interview with both of you. The Hawkeyes are favored by two and a half points over the Cardinal in the Rose Bowl. What do the two of you think about that?”

John and I both looked at each other in disbelief. I shook my head slightly, which still showed on the camera, so he’d keep his mouth shut, while I maneuvered through the verbal minefield I was about to enter.

“I’ve met both Coach Fry and Chuck Long, in New York, at the Heisman ceremony. I have nothing but the deepest respect for Coach Fry, and I certainly got to know him and Chuck better at lunch that day. Having said that, I’d be curious to see what formula was used to come up with this result. Is it going to be a good game? Sure. Is it going to be a high scoring game? Well, on our side, sure. We’ve only had one game this entire year where we didn’t score at least fifty points. Is it going to be close? Maybe. We’ve scored six hundred seventy-eight points this year, our opposition scored two hundred sixty-five, and we finished the season undefeated. Iowa scored four hundred twelve, their opponents scored one hundred forty-two, and they finished with one loss. Our closest margin of victory was twenty-five points, and that happened three times. Their closest margin of victory was two points, and they had three games total with a margin of victory of four points or less. So, that’s just statistics and numbers. What do you think they’re basing this on?” I asked, turning it back on the reporter.

“Due to the redshirt rules, this will actually be Chuck Long’s fifth time in a postseason game, including his second Rose Bowl. This will be your first. The Hawkeyes will be dressing one hundred players for the game, the Cardinal will dress forty-five. Your score differential is impressive, but the closest thing to an actual ranked team you’ve gone up against was when you beat UCLA earlier this year, and that was after they’d dropped out of the top twenty-five. While Iowa did lose to number eight Ohio State, that was at Ohio State, and they did beat number two ranked Michigan.”

I grinned then, and said, “So, based upon your opinion of our chances, we’re more than just two and a half point underdogs, then. I’ll keep that in mind when we’re celebrating our victory after the game, and who we do interviews with then. Oh, and it’s forty-four, because we do have one player out for the rest of the year due to injury. Thank you for your time. Come on, John, let’s go find a real reporter, instead of just someone with biased opinions.”

I pulled my microphone off and stood up. A second later, John followed my lead, leaving the reporter there, gaping like a fish out of water. We’d been scheduled to talk with him for a full half hour. His attempt to surprise and fluster us left him with nearly twenty minutes of time to fill.

We headed over to Coach Elway’s office, where he had just finished up his own interview with NBC, and told him what had happened.

“Normally, I would jump you up one side and down the other for that, but this isn’t a normal year, by any means. I swear, it’s almost a case of how dare we challenge one of the traditional football schools. We’re Stanford and we should remember our place.”

A knock on the door interrupted us. Jule Campbell and Allison Candella from Sports Illustrated stuck their heads in.

“Oh, hi! We know we’re early for our interview and photograph session with you, Coach, but Allison wanted to make sure the lighting and makeup were okay. I thought the two of you were interviewing with ESPN now,” Jule said.

I glanced at Coach, who nodded, so I said, “We were. Since they didn’t send an actual reporter, but an opinion writer, we ended things early.”

Looking down at her watch, Jule whistled. “More than fifteen minutes early? Wow! I’m guessing it had to be someone from their east coast offices, who’d never watched a single minute of your game play, then.”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” I said. “He started out by telling us we’re two and a half point underdogs and asked us what we thought about it, and when I told him, he more or less told us that our accomplishments and point totals didn’t matter, we hadn’t played anyone that was any good this year.”

The phone rang on Coach’s desk, and he picked it up. “Elway. Oh, hi, Fred. Well, from a personal perspective, I think if you’re supposed to be a reporter and you tell my best players that you think their team sucks, and they have no business being in the Rose Bowl, that you ought to be prepared when those players basically tell you to go fuck yourself. But that’s just me, after all. What do you think? No, Cal didn’t actually tell him to go fuck himself, but he did tell him he wanted to talk to a reporter and not someone simply repeating biased opinions, and I don’t blame him.”

Sighing, Coach said, “I don’t know, Fred, I just don’t know. Are we USC with eighteen Rose Bowl wins behind us? No, but we’ve got five. But we’re still the number one team in the country in both polls, and we’re undefeated this season, with the winner of the Heisman trophy as our quarterback. No, I don’t get it, either. You know what? I don’t think they’re going to give us a fair shake, no matter what, so fuck ‘em. Present company excepted, of course. Oh, that’s Jule Campbell, who’s looking at me with her soft baby blue eyes and just hoping I give her permission to repeat that, but knowing deep down inside I won’t. Okay, Fred, you have a good afternoon, too.”

“I don’t have blue eyes,” Jule protested.

“I know,” Elway said with a grin.

“Oh, shit,” Jule said, when she realized what the Coach was saying.

“And make sure it gets around to those guys that we do have good relationships with. You know who they are. I’m not saying you all might not want to put a few bets on which team is going to win, because gambling is something the NCAA says those of us who coach or play can’t partake of, after all.”

“You’re not just going to cover the spread, you’re going to wipe them out,” she said.

“Now that’s an opinion I like,” I said with a grin.

We practiced and otherwise worked out for six full hours a day, then spent the other four watching Iowa’s game films. I was the only player our trainers weren’t paying extra attention to as far as meals, ice baths, heat wraps, and otherwise applying every bit of sports medicine they knew to make sure everyone was in absolutely the best shape of their lives. The Coaches also had us practice specialty plays, including fake field goals just in case.

David Sweeney actually asked why. “Coach, don’t take this the wrong way, but when I was talking about getting more time kicking field goals, I was just kidding.”

Coach Kofler said, “Don’t worry so much, Sweeney. We know you weren’t serious. But guess what? We have two games left, and as scary as it sounds, it’s always possible that we could get into a fourth down situation where it doesn’t make sense for Cal to perform a miracle. What if we’ve pulled him out of the game, or even scarier, some major world event comes up so he can’t play? Do I think we’ll need a fake field goal attempt? No. Would I rather you spend some time practicing it until you’ve got it perfect, just in case? Damned straight!”

“Understood, Coach!”

Our flight left Moffett Field at eight on Wednesday morning. Once we were on the ground at Los Angeles, the team and band loaded up on buses for our police escorted trip from the airport to the stadium. Both our gear and the band’s instruments had been driven down overnight in escorted semi trailers, and been kept under guard by some of my Gurkhas the whole time.

Iowa had flown into Los Angeles Tuesday evening, due to the length of their flight, so they’d have some rest. They’d brought their team’s gear with them, but their band’s instruments had traveled the same way as ours, only theirs had to leave Monday to get to Pasadena in time.

When we pulled into the parking lot, there were multiple NBC cameras already set up to record us simply getting off the bus. I was amused that there was a lone CBS camera as well, with the KPIX logo on the side. It didn’t hurt our attitudes that there were at least a thousand Stanford fans cheering us.

I was in the middle of the pack, with the other quarterbacks, when I heard my name being called by Coach Elway.

“LEWIS!” I held my hand up to acknowledge I’d heard him. “I’ve got two reporters here that would like a word with you. Over here, please.”

I went to the side, where Wayne Walker from KPIX and Merlin Olsen from NBC were standing with Coach Elway.

“Good morning, gentlemen, and Happy New Year!” I said with enthusiasm.

Both former football players turned reporters echoed my New Year’s sentiment.

“What can I do for either of you on this rather nice January day here in sunny southern California?” I asked.

Merlin replied, “Just a couple of quick questions, since I know you have to get into the locker room to get ready. What are your thoughts on the game today, with this now being one of two qualifying games for the first ever NCAA Football National Championship game?”

“Same thought I had when I first talked to Coach Elway in person last December. I came to Stanford first and foremost for an education, just like every other member of the Cardinal football team, regardless of whether or not they’re on a football scholarship. I told him then, and I told the team at our first meeting, we are going to be the best team we can be, and by being that team, we’ll end up being national champions. The score at the end of the game is actually irrelevant, other than of course, ours will be higher than Iowas. What’s more important, what’s most important, is that the men of the Cardinal are a cohesive family and team that, behind Coach Elway’s leadership, will, can, and have overcome any and all adversities we have faced.”

Once again, I managed to lock Merlin up. Wayne saw his hesitation and asked, “Cal, there are projected to be over a hundred thousand fans attending in the stadium today, and the live broadcast audience for NBC here in the United States, and for KPIX and CBS for the rest of the world, is expected to set another record, with an audience of close to two billion people watching. Does the thought of playing in front of all those people bother you or make you nervous?”

I chuckled, then. “Wayne, while you know me better than that, I suspect a lot of people who are watching this don’t know me that well.”

I gestured towards the stadium. “This is a sporting event. This isn’t the old Roman coliseum, where, at times, the participants were competing for their very lives. We’re playing today for the entertainment of the fans, for the pride of our schools, and of our own abilities and accomplishments. It doesn’t matter if there are a hundred fans in the seats, or a hundred thousand. We’re playing to entertain those fans, and because we’re proud of our school; and when we win the game, we’re winning it for those fans.”

Merlin had gotten his shit together by then, and asked, “Cal, you certainly have a list of accomplishments on the gridiron so far this year, including being the first freshman to win the Heisman Trophy. Of everything you’ve done related to football, what are you most proud of?”

I grinned and replied, “Well, Merlin, the last time you and I met, my Hutchinson Salthawks still had to win the 1984 Kansas State Football Championship. Strictly related to football, there are two things I’m very proud of. One, of course, is that the Salthawks continued the tradition I left them, and won the 1985 Kansas State Football Championship. The second is that I also left them a legacy of acceptance of differences, such that the quarterback of the undefeated Hutchinson Salthawk Junior Varsity Football team is my sister-in-law, and she should lead the Salthawks to State Championships in ‘86 and ‘87, before she comes to Stanford and takes my place as the Cardinal quarterback. Women are certainly good enough to rule nations. Look at Indira Gandhi or Benazir Bhutto, just to name the two neighboring nations to my own Punjab. If they are willing to take the same risks and play on the same teams, there’s no reason why sports traditionally closed to women – such as football, or PGA Golf, since one of my wives showed she’s a better golfer than all the men on the tour – shouldn’t be allowed to try. What are men afraid of? Guys, I have seventeen wives. I’m quite comfortable with my masculinity. What are you all afraid of?”

Merlin locked up again, so Wayne simply said, “That’s something to discuss, certainly. Thank you for your thoughts, Cal, and I look forward to interviewing you after the game.”

“You’re welcome, Wayne, but it’ll have to be quick. I’ve got a sixteen hour flight to Islamabad this evening. It seems a few million people are waiting for me and their Queen to take our place as their rulers.”

I grinned, waved, and headed out. Coach Elway had hung back, just in case he was needed. He shook his head.

“How did Merlin Olsen piss you off?”

“You caught that, eh?” I said as we entered the tunnel. “I didn’t know it at the time – this was October of last year, so you probably didn’t catch it – but anyway, my ladies wanted to reward me after we’d gone to New York and signed a billion plus dollar deal with Siemens. So, they’d gotten tickets to the Jets and Chiefs game. However, Lamar Hunt had already been called by David Koch, so Lamar told Leon Hess to invite me to his box, since that’s where they were both watching the game. Before the game, they had me putz around a little on the field, like I did with Holly at our game. Thing is, I didn’t know that at halftime, I was going to get an award from the Marine Corps for the boost I’d given Toys for Tots. They did. Then, when we were heading back to Leon’s box, Merlin ambushed us for a quick live interview.”

I grinned as we entered our locker room. “I told Merlin my thoughts about how people were feeling guilty about how they’d treated our veterans, but maybe I was too young to have those kind of political views. He tried to get it back onto football, how I was the best high school quarterback in the country, and I told him that a lot of colleges wanted me to go there, but they were only interested in my football skills, not in what else I’d done. He then asked me what else I’d done. Mind you, this is less than two minutes after I’d just told him my firm had donated half a million to Toys for Tots, that I knew Charles and David Koch, and was partners with Bill Gates of Microsoft. So, I told him what I’d done. It locked him up, just like it did today. The man had a full football scholarship to Stanford and turned it down so he could play in Utah. He’s supposed to have a master’s degree in Economics! Did his fifteen years in the NFL knock all his intelligence out, or does he assume that just because I play football, I’m supposed to be some ignorant moron?”

“Considering how the tone of your voice raised at the end, I suggest you simply take that, keep it inside you, and then unleash it on the Iowa defense. Now, get into your warm-ups, we’ve got a football game to win!”

“Coach, yes, COACH!”

While we were on the field getting ready, the stadium started slowly filling up. There were camera crews on both sidelines making final touches to their equipment. In addition, there were crews setting up outside both end zones as well. We had our half of the field for stretches and such, while Iowa had the other half. I saw Chuck loosening up and I waved at him. He waved, then came trotting over and held his hand out.

I took it, and then pulled him into a hug. “Good to see you, Chuck!”

He stepped back and grinned before he said, “From a personal perspective, I agree. From a quarterback’s perspective, not so much. I didn’t see it, I’ve only heard about it. Did you really tell the ESPN reporter he was biased?”

I chuckled and replied, “On live television even, and then John and I walked out on him. All kidding aside, I had to verbally smack Merlin Olsen when we got off the bus to come into the stadium, too. I know you’ve watched our game films. Aren’t these guys supposed to be professional reporters?”

“Honestly, I hadn’t until after we met in New York, you know. Watched your films, or even any of your games, I mean. Oh, I saw you make that hellaciously long pass, but I’d also seen you do that on ABC’s Wide World of Sports. Then when you decided to go to Stanford? If you’d gone to Alabama, Auburn, Michigan, Oklahoma – hell, there’s a long list of football schools. Even USC and UCLA, if you had to move to California. But Stanford? Don’t get me wrong. Before we got Coach Fry, we sucked, too. That’s part of being in the Big Ten with all those other football powerhouses. But you chose Stanford, so I think everyone wrote you off. That was our mistake.”

I chuckled, then, and said, “I think a lot of people have figured that out.”

He looked up at the rim of the stadium. “Hell of a place, isn’t it? We’re going to have a hundred thousand people watching us in person, and a few million around the country. Hell of a thing, really.”

“More than that. Don’t forget, any game Eve or I play in is broadcast live around the world. The total television audience that’ll watch us play, live, is going to be closer to two billion.”

He stopped and looked down at me, since he was a couple inches taller. “You’re not just saying that just to fuck with me.”

I shook my head. “Nope. My games all normally average around eight hundred million or so. Eve’s basketball games are getting about four to five hundred million, mostly because the Middle Eastern nations still have some issues with women’s basketball outfits. I was told ‘The Game’ had a live audience of one point seven billion, though.”

Chuck nodded, then shook his head. “It’s going to be one hell of a day,” he said with a sigh. “Good luck.” He held his hand out again.

“Same to you, Chuck,” I replied, and shook his hand.

I ran back to where our guys were working out to see Coach Elway just shaking his head. “What’s wrong, Coach?” I asked.

“I sure can’t get mad at you for doing the same thing I was just doing with Hayden Fry, now, can I? This would be a lot easier if I didn’t actually like the guys we’re going to beat today.”

I grinned, then said, “Don’t worry. I think we’ll get that chance in a couple of weeks, no matter if it’s Penn State or Oklahoma.”

He nodded and replied, “You’re probably right. Go lead your team on a lap around our half of the field and then take ‘em into the locker room, Mister Lewis.”

“Coach, yes, Coach!”

I ran out onto the field and yelled out, “CARDINAL! Form up behind me. Let’s GO!”

We made our lap at a pretty good pace, then kept going, right into the tunnel, heading for the locker room. There were tables set up with food waiting for us.

Coach Baldwin hollered out, “Listen up! You have thirty minutes to grab a bite to eat before you start getting dressed for the game. There are two hours allocated to getting dressed, wrapped, and ready. That gives us a half hour before things start at one thirty. There will be a bunch of pregame crap going on. This is just like any other afternoon game. Get some carbs in you. You’ll be burning the shit out of those today. Usual snacks available at halftime. Carry on, men!”

Everything was normal in getting ready. A couple of officials came into our locker room about twenty after. We were all ready, in our white jerseys with cardinal red pants, since we were considered the ‘away’ team.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Just a bit of a heads-up on what’s going to happen. There are going to be some ceremonies on the field starting in ten minutes, introducing the Grand Marshal of the Rose Parade, Erma Bombeck, the Rose Parade Queen and her court. Then we’re going to open the doors at the end of the tunnel. As you’re the visiting team, you’ll get announced first. Coach Elway will be named, then the starting offensive lineup. Coach Elway, you and your starting lineup will run to the stage, where you will line up on your side of it, while the ladies on the stage throw rose petals on you. After that, they’ll say ‘and the rest of the coaches and Cardinal team,’ which will be the cue for the rest of you to come out. The rest of you will run to your side of the field. Then the same thing will happen for the Hawkeyes. Once that’s complete, the television crew will go to commercial, you guys will take your spots on the sidelines, and the stage will get cleared off the field. After that, the US military honor guard will come out and play the National Anthem, and then we’ll get to the coin toss.”

Several members of the team looked a little confused, and so was I.

“Don’t you mean that in plural?” I asked. “Honor guards and anthems?”

Both men looked confused now, and looked at each other. “Um, no?” one of them said.

“I see you have radios on your hips. I know Terry Goodman is here today, since he’s the Pac-10 NCAA representative. I don’t know if Keith Reynolds is, or not, but you better get on the radio at least to Terry right now, or the Rose Bowl is going to be in violation of an NCAA legal commitment,” I said.

Coach Elway said, “Definitely. Especially since the Rose Bowl committee made Stanford pay up front once there was an actual determination to have a Championship game.”

I heard one of them did get on his radio, ask for a supervisor, and when asked why, said that Stanford was saying something about two honor guards and anthems, and NCAA legal commitments.

About three minutes later, an out of breath Terry Goodman came running into the tunnel. “What’s going on, Coach?”

I said, “These guys were telling us what’s going on, and they said there would be a military honor guard and the playing of the National Anthem. Singular.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Why is someone playing games? Give me your goddamned radio, now!” Goodman ordered, then keyed it. “This is Goodman. What the hell is going on that you’re only having one honor guard and anthem?”

From the radio, a voice said, “Well, because this is the United States, and we only have one flag and one National Anthem.”

“You’re an idiot, Dwight, do you know that? Congratulations, you have fifteen minutes to make sure the honor guard from the First Kingdom is prepared to take the field and to be ready to play the Anthem of the First Kingdom prior to playing the Star Spangled Banner. The Rose Bowl has a signed contract to abide by the authority of the NCAA for pregame activities. Failure to do so will not only put the Rose Bowl in violation of that contract, it’ll also put you in violation of the contract you signed with Stanford regarding the Championship Game. There are over a hundred thousand fans here. I’ll make sure each and every one of them knows exactly who you are, because you’ll be refunding their tickets and be in violation of the contracts you have with NBC as well.”

“Goodman, you’re just the Pac-10 Representative, not someone with authority at the NCAA!”

Another voice came on the radio. “No, but I am. Terry, are you with Stanford right now?”

“Yes, I am, Keith, and they can hear you on the radio.”

“Coach Elway, your team may remain in the tunnel until I tell you this is resolved!” He clicked off.

Both men looked at Terry, with one of them asking, “Who was that?”

“That was Keith Reynolds, the Vice-Chairman of NCAA Football,” Terry said. “Why in the hell would anyone here deliberately try to create an international incident?”

The same man asked, “I don’t get it. What do you mean?”

“Stanford’s not in the United States any longer, it’s a part of the Kingdom of the First People. If they host a game, the Kingdom’s anthem is played last. If they’re the visitors, their anthem is played first,” Goodman explained. “Didn’t you watch any of the pregame show from when UCLA played at Stanford earlier this year?”

One of the two men shook his head and said, “Shit! That’s the game Dwight’s grandson tore up his ankle.”

‘Hey, the head of the Rose Bowl is playing games regarding anthems and honor guards because his grandson got hurt playing against us a couple months ago,’ I sent to Beth.

‘That explains why Chuck has been on the radio almost non-stop, then,’ she replied.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ I returned back to her, and quickly explained it to her.

‘On it! It’ll take us about ten minutes.’

“Mister Goodman? If you could get on the radio, and tell the crews to delay things for about ten minutes, it really doesn’t matter what anyone here at the stadium does,” I said.

He chuckled, then. “Oh, this is going to be good, isn’t it?”

After a few minutes, the stadium guys heard some chatter over their radios, then finally Keith Reynolds came on and said, “Okay, I’m in the booth with the stadium announcer now. Stanford and Iowa, both of you please walk respectfully onto the field, no running out like you were told before.”

The doors opened up, and we walked out to a stadium filled with screaming fans. From the stadium loudspeakers, the announcer said, “Welcome to the Seventy-Second Annual Rose Bowl Game! This year it’s between the Stanford Cardinal and the Iowa Hawkeyes! If I could direct your eyes to the center of the field, there is a stage set up. On that stage is the Tournament of Roses Royal Court, led by the sixty-eighth Rose Queen, Aimee-Lynn Richelieu, a senior at San Marino High School, and her princesses, Shannon Guernsey and Christine Huff, from Altadena, April Lake from Arcadia, Tracey Langford and Julie Penner, from Pasadena, and Loreen Weeks, from Sierra Madre! Let’s give them all a big hand!”