Crosstown rivalries never lack for sparks, and this year was no exception. This single game had massive implications—it wasn’t just about the two teams’ season rankings, or even the invitation to the Rose Bowl. It was also about a decade’s worth of bad blood.

Last year, the Bruins had a golden opportunity for a revival, but under the leadership of Kevin Clifton, they still lost to the Trojans by a lopsided score of 7-28. This only fueled the University of Southern California’s arrogance, and that was to say nothing of this year.

Weeks before the game, supporters of the two teams had already begun their confrontations. The tension gradually built, reaching its peak just before kickoff. It was unclear who threw the first punch, but the result was a massive brawl involving nearly two hundred people. Two people even stabbed each other, causing significant bloodshed. The arrival of police cars and ambulances added a grim, sharp edge to this year’s crosstown rivalry.

The referee’s whistle blew, and the two arch-rivals began their annual showdown once more.

From the very start, the Trojans, led by quarterback Matt Barkley, launched a ferocious offensive that overwhelmed the Bruins. In the first three quarters, the Trojans scored two passing touchdowns and two rushing touchdowns, successfully converting all four extra points. Their powerful offense was like a relentless storm, leaving the Bruins’ Defense Team, which had been stellar all year, powerless to resist.

In contrast, the Bruins’ offense struggled to make any headway. Kevin Price’s passing was a constant struggle; his short, medium, and long passes all fell flat. The Wide Receivers and Tight Ends had almost no chance to make a play. Their only score came from a single, incredible run by running back Marcus Lynch in the first quarter, which resulted in a Touchdown.

By the end of the third quarter, the Trojans held a commanding 28-7 lead over the Bruins, entering the final quarter of the game up by three touchdowns.

The crowd’s reaction was polarized. For the University of Southern California, it was another night of revelry. They celebrated their team’s outstanding performance with wild abandon, taking every opportunity to mock the pitiful state of their crosstown rivals. For UCLA, it was an out-and-out disaster. By the middle of the third quarter, a small number of fans had already left the stadium, disgusted with their team’s performance.

The irony was, tonight was the Bruins’ home game.

The home of the UCLA Bruins is the world-famous Rose Bowl Stadium. In the 1994 World Cup, this was where Roberto Baggio’s dejected figure was immortalized. In the 1999 Women’s World Cup, it witnessed the heartbreaking loss of China’s national team to the United States, and the anguish of their second-place finish.

The stadium can hold a full one hundred thousand people, making it one of the premier stadiums in the world. As the home of the UCLA Bruins, it has witnessed countless classic football games. The stadium itself is named the Rose Bowl, and the highest honor in the East Pacific Twelve Schools Alliance is also called the Rose Bowl. This alone speaks to the long and storied tradition UCLA holds within the Alliance.

But tonight, the sold-out Rose Bowl was about to witness yet another humiliating defeat for the Bruins. The Bruins fans, who made up a clear two-thirds majority of the crowd, were now deathly silent and utterly dejected. They could only watch helplessly as the remaining one-third—the fans of their arch-rivals—cheered and sang with abandon. It was sheer torture, something even worse than hell itself.

Losing a game wasn’t the end of the world; Bruins supporters would never give up. The terrifying part was that this Bruins team showed no fighting spirit, no hope, no morale. They offered their supporters no reason to keep believing.

There was still a full fifteen-minute quarter left for the Bruins to play, but not a single cheer, shout, or chant could be heard in the Rose Bowl. The dead silence was like that of a soulless, walking corpse. This, this was the true end of the world. The fans had already forgotten the last time they saw the pride of a traditional powerhouse in their team.

The whistle blew for the fourth quarter, but the Bruins supporters couldn’t tell if this was the beginning of sinking even deeper into the mire, or just the endless continuation of the darkness.

Kevin Price led the offense back onto the field. On first down, a run gained two yards. On second down, before Price could even get the pass off, a defender sacked him on the ground. The ball was pushed back from the 22-yard line to the 15, a loss of seven yards. This meant that for third down, they needed to cover the remaining eight yards plus the seven they had just lost—a total of fifteen yards.

Things weren’t just failing to improve; they were getting worse. It was a complete disaster, painful to watch.

Just when everyone thought they had hit rock bottom, things somehow got even worse. After the sack, the defensive player stood up and celebrated, but Kevin, still on the ground, didn’t get up. He was clutching his lower leg, wailing and writhing in agony. The referee had to stop the game.

In an instant, every player on the Bruins’ bench was on their feet, staring nervously at the field. Lu Ke was no exception. He and Kevin weren’t friends, but they weren’t enemies either. More importantly, he was a member of the Bruins. Even if he was just a backup, this was his team, and the Trojans Team standing on the other side of the field was his sworn enemy!

Rick Neuheisel slammed his clipboard to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a water cooler nearby and, unable to contain his frustration, kicked it into the air. But even that couldn’t quell the anger and anxiety boiling inside him, much less solve the current crisis. He spun around irritably and looked at his colleagues. "Get Darius over here."

But the words had barely left his mouth when Rick shook his head and hesitated. "What do you guys think?"

Darius was only a freshman; his skill and talent weren’t particularly outstanding, and his Tactical Awareness was mediocre. Lu Ke, though a senior, had never played in an official game and had worked his way up from the practice squad. He was hardly fit to bear such a heavy responsibility.

Logically, Darius was the second-string quarterback and Lu Ke was the third-string. The second-string should be the obvious choice to go in. The problem was, the two quarterbacks seemed to be six of one and half a dozen of the other; it was hard to say who was better. The Bruins were now in the terrible position of having no one reliable to send in.

Defense Team coach Chuck hesitated for a moment before stating his choice. "Darius."

But the offensive coach, Norm, gave a surprisingly crisp and decisive answer. "Lu Ke."

One vote for each. Rick then looked to Anthony, who was standing nearby. As the assistant coach, Anthony undoubtedly had a thorough understanding of the entire team—in some respects, even more comprehensive and profound than Chuck’s or Norm’s. He mulled it over for a moment. ’Recalling everything that had happened over the past five months, he had to admit the first name that came to mind was...’ "Lu Ke."

’Maybe Lu Ke isn’t a naturally gifted, genius quarterback, but his diligence, hard work, and perseverance have left a deep impression—not just over the last five months, but also during his year on the practice squad. More importantly, Lu Ke is a smart quarterback. He has the composure of a field general, a quality that even Kevin Clifton lacked.’

Anthony wasn’t sure what this ethereal quality would actually bring to the game, but he was willing to take a gamble. So, he nodded again, confirming his choice. "Yes, Lu Ke."

Rick said nothing, his anxious gaze fixed on Kevin Price being carried off the field on a stretcher. He was clutching his right knee, his face contorted in pain; he definitely wouldn’t be returning to the game anytime soon. Although his performance had been a struggle all season, and tonight’s was a certified disaster, this was a perfect microcosm of the Bruins’ current predicament.

’So, Darius or Lu Ke?’

"Get Lu over here." ’Since we’ve already hit rock bottom, we might as well go for broke. At the very least, Lu Ke’s ability to adapt on the field is what we need right now.’ Rick made his decision decisively.

Without another word, Anthony jogged over, shouting, "Lu, hurry! Hurry!"

Lu Ke glanced at Kevin being carried off on the stretcher, then looked up at the stands of the Rose Bowl. More and more people were starting to leave. An atmosphere of sorrow and anger swirled through the stadium, churning beneath the night sky. The members of the offense, standing in the middle of the field, looked completely lost. They didn’t even know if they should continue the game.

Suddenly, someone bumped Lu Ke’s shoulder. He turned, and before he could even see who it was, he saw Anthony sprinting towards him. "Quick, put on your helmet! Where’s your helmet? Where is it?" Without waiting for Lu Ke to react, Anthony glanced around, grabbed a helmet from the bench, shoved it into Lu Ke’s arms, and started pulling him along. "Hurry, get ready to go in!"

"What?" Lu Ke thought he must have misheard.

’I’ve been waiting for the day I could finally get on the field, but the four-month season had seemingly flown by, and I still hadn’t gotten a chance. Every week before the roster was announced, I hoped I could leapfrog Darius and Kevin to become the team’s starting quarterback. Every week, I was met with disappointment. I would collect myself, sit on the bench, and watch every game up close, absorbing experience and studying the opponents.’

’There were so, so many things to learn that the passage of time seemed to lose its meaning. But deep down?’

"Get ready to go in!" Anthony repeated, confirming what Lu Ke had suspected. He brought him over to Rick and Norm. Rick spoke quickly, "It’s third down. Just go in and handle this play. Not turning the ball over is a win." With only forty seconds on the play clock, plus the time lost to Kevin’s injury, he really didn’t have enough time to go over tactics. They just had to get through this third down, punt the ball away, and then he could plan properly on the sideline.

Rick clapped Lu Ke on the shoulder and gave him a firm push. Dazed and unsteady, Lu Ke stumbled onto the field.