Imagine a young couple recently graduated from UCLA. It's the fall of 2008, and the wife is expecting the couple's first child. On the morning of October 18th, as they are preparing to head to the Rose Bowl to watch their Bruins take on a mediocre team from Stanford, the husband and wife -- we'll call them Joe and Betty -- are going about their game day preparations (stocking the cooler, choosing their powder blue jerseys, painting each other's faces with love) when Betty feels her first contraction. She knows what's coming, but she also knows that she and Joe haven't missed a Bruin home game in six years, not since that day when Joe had dropped to his knee and proposed to her in the middle of the Rose Bowl's Tunnel 8 during their senior year. The tears that begin to stream down her face and bead up on the grease paint are not just tears of joy for what's to come, but tears of sadness for a streak she knows is coming to an end.
Hours later, as Betty fights through the final stages of labor, Joe sits at her bedside and the couple holds hands while staring at a television that had been wheeled into the delivery room at their insistence. It isn't clear whether the tense game or the strenuous labor has been more difficult for Betty, but the gold U under her right eye and the gold C under her left still sparkle. The blue L and A on Joe's cheeks complete the scene, and even though their Bruins trail 20-16 in the final minute, Joe and Betty Bruin are nothing but hopeful on this most hopeful day.