In truth, I didn't know what to make of college life and can't say that I felt an instant connection to Cal. That was a bond which had to be earned through tangible experience, not via the administrative act of enrollment.

Luckily that event took place on a beautiful Saturday in November, when the Stanford Cardinal visited Berkeley for the 85th Big Game.

The story line that week was how the 5-5 Cardinal, led by the extraordinary John Elway, would be invited to play in the Hall of Fame Game immediately following a victory over Cal. The only thing standing in the way was the 6-4 Bears, a team that had overachieved in Joe Kapp's first year as head coach.

It was a perfect day for football, not a cloud in sight, only the bright blue sky over Strawberry Canyon. And the football matched the spectacular setting. There were one-handed touchdown catches, clutch third-down stops and spirited play from both teams.

After 58 minutes and 33 seconds of play, Cal clung to a 19-17 lead as Stanford started its final drive at its own 20-yard line. Elway, who lived for such moments, drove his team into field goal position and called time out. Stanford's kicker trotted onto the field and booted what appeared to be the game-winning field goal.

We were crestfallen in the student section, but no one left. There were four seconds left in the game and we were going to stay until the bitter end.

Stanford supporters, meanwhile, were overjoyed. Their red-coated band, sequestered in the southern end of the stadium, spilled out of the stands and ringed the end zone while team members rushed onto the field. The celebration resulted in a penalty, which pushed back their kickoff 15 yards, but no one thought it meant anything. A Cardinal victory was a foregone conclusion.

Except that it wasn't. There were still those four ticks on the clock, just enough time for one final play. In the Cal huddle, Richard Rodgers told his 10 teammates, "Don't fall with the ball."

With the field covered in shadows, Kevin Moen ran with the squib kick for a few yards and then tossed the ball to Rodgers near the Cal sideline. Rodgers had no room to run and pitched the ball to Dwight Garner, who immediately got engulfed by Cardinal players. Garner, while falling, somehow managed the get the ball back to Rodgers, who then sprinted toward the open space to his right. The guy next to me in the stands yelled, "Give it to Mariet! Give it to Mariet!"

Rodgers must have heard him, because he did get the ball to Ford Mariet, who then blazed downfield into the onrushing congestion of Stanford players and their band, which was now on the playing field. As three Stanford players surrounded Ford, he blindly heaved the ball over his right shoulder where it found Moen in stride. Moen caught the ball and took it into the end zone and into immortality.

After a lengthy huddle on the field, someone in street clothes emerged from the official's huddle and raised his arms to indicate that the touchdown counted. The sonic boom that followed wasn't the cannon that fired; it was the unanimity of spirit that swept through Memorial Stadium.

Five seconds later, the entire student section was on the field, and the ensuing mob scene was a force of nature. Linebacker Rich Dixon emerged from a sea of people and pumped the Axe into the air. Cal had won, and a citywide party had started.

Nine hours later, the streets were still packed and I said to a friend, "We may never go to the Rose Bowl, but we'll always have this."

Thirty-two years later, the meaning of playing in the Rose Bowl has changed, but the significance of witnessing "The Play" has not ... and there's something very cool about that. Roll on, you Bears!

Phil Schaaf is a local writer who was fortunate to work on the upcoming documentary "Don't Quit: The Joe Roth Story" with Bob Rider, a friend and fellow Cal alum. For more information about the film, go to joerothfilm.com.

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