<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
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<UID>
8901010334
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
890103
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Tuesday, January 03, 1989
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO EDITION
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
NWS
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1A
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>
Photo MANNY CRISOSTOMO
</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>
SEE ALSO METRO FINAL EDITION, Page 1A
</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1989, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
FINALLY, IT'S BO'S SHOW
U-M DISPELS ITS HEX, BEATS USC 22-14
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
PASADENA,  Calif. --  He was running for them all, for this Michigan team
and for every Michigan team that had come out here and had its face smeared
with California egg. Someone grabbed his feet.  He broke free. Someone wrapped
around his thigh. He yanked loose. Running through the linemen and through the
linebackers and through the hands and arms and bodies, breaking free as the
ghosts of Wolverines  past screamed in a collective "GO! GO! NEVER STOP!"

  Leroy Hoard was going downfield and he was taking Michigan with him. A
61-yard run that was going to ensure a victory for the Wolverines in this
house of horrors. And when he took the ball in several plays later, dived over
the goal line on a gutsy fourth-and-goal call for the winning touchdown, final
score 22-14, and the Michigan fans showered  the field with plastic seat
cushions -- "SIT ON IT, USC!" -- well, you could hear the sigh of relief from
Michigan history all the way out here.

  Wake up and smell the roses, U-M. This was not only  a great Michigan win,
a great comeback, and a tribute to the spirit of a team that had to come back
from the very first game of the season -- but it was also long overdue. Bo
Schembechler has bought  too many good teams out here too many times and gone
home empty.
  Not this time. Here, against the No. 5 team in the country, with Mr.
Charisma, Rodney Peete, at quarterback, the Wolverines did it  the way they
have all year, as a team. A suddenly choking defense.  A suddenly gambling
offense.
  Oh yeah. And a little rumble through the jungle by Hoard.
  And when the gun sounded, they banded  together for one final team effort:
carrying Schembechler off on their shoulders.
  Happy new year.
  Smell the roses.
Let the coach savor his win
  "ON BEHALF OF SOME GREAT WOLVERINES,  I  ACCEPT THIS TROPHY!" yelled
Schembechler when they handed him the victors' trophy. And why not? He
suffered through seven Rose Bowl defeats. Let him savor this.
  And savor he will.  Did you watch  this one? Who says it wasn't better
than the "national championship" Fiesta Bowl across the TV dial. Here was a
game that ran the gamut of emotion.
  It was hardly a U-M victory from the opening gun.  The halftime score was
14-3, USC, and the Michigan offense had fallen into a deep sleep. The
Wolverines failed to gain a first down in the second quarter. They were
getting beaten up, and beaten down.  Peete had scrambled through their arms
twice for touchdowns. The jokes were hatching again. Good ol' Michigan. Just
can't beat the Pac-10.
  And then, the second half.
  It was as if all the voices  from Wolverines past joined in a singular
chorus that screamed "No more! Enough of this embarrassment!" And suddenly the
1988 Wolverines began to rise, from the mountain of dirt on their Rose Bowl
reputation,  from their size deficiency against Pac-10 teams, from the
unforgivable errors they had committed earlier in the game, rising above all
that to the slippery ghost, victory.
What a way to kick off year
  How nice a way to start 1989. Everyone knew what this game meant.  For the
Wolverines, the Rose Bowl, in the Schembechler era, has been the equivalent of
the principal's office --  very rarely did  they exit with good news.
  How long has Schembechler been at this? Long enough that one of his
assistants in his first Rose Bowl (1970) was now coaching against him across
the sidelines. Larry Smith,  USC's head man, once babysat for Schembechler's
kids, once shared a house with Bo, once scouted teams for him and coached his
offensive line. In this case, familiarity did not breed contempt, only
competition.  Smith wanted to beat Schembechler the way every student wants,
just once, to topple his teacher. And Schembechler didn't want to be shown up
by a guy he once bossed around. Lord. That can make a guy  feel old.
  On top of that, here were two teams that, in their heart of hearts, felt
they deserved perhaps more than roses, they deserved a national championship.
A pass here, a fumble there. Michigan  had lost only to the No. 1 and No. 2
teams in the nation, by a total of three points, under freakish circumstances.
USC, meanwhile, had battled Notre Dame for the No. 1 ranking right up to the
final  game of the regular season, when the Irish clubbed them, 27-10. You
can't argue with the score. But how often have the Trojans replayed that one
bad Saturday in their minds?
  And, as if that wasn't  similarity enough, both teams were carrying a
Pasadena grudge. One year ago, USC had fallen to Michigan State, 20-17, in
this very stadium.  The year before that, Michigan had lost to Arizona State,
22-15. So both were determined to redeem themselves in the Arroyo Seco.
  Michigan did.
  Smell the roses.
Bo knew he could pull it off
  "I'm sure people thought we were out of it at halftime," said
Schembechler.  "But I knew we could beat this team and so did our players."
  He smiled.  This bowl thing bothered him, maybe not as much as people
thought, maybe more than people realized. "You  know what?" he had said a few
days before the game. "Maybe it's God's way of keeping me humble. If I had won
all the games I did, and all these bowl games as well, I'd be too cocky. This
sort of keeps  my ego down."
  A good theory. But you can bet he would cash it in for a victory here or
there. Those annual January flights home from California meant more than a
return from sunshine to winter for Bo; they meant another year's worth of
ribbing and teasing. Sure, no single joke is enough to bother a man like
Schembechler. But an endless stream of them, night after night at banquets,
interviews,  meetings -- hey, you wouldn't like it,  either.
  New year. New result.
  Now true, this was not the greatest Michigan team ever taken out here, but
it was good. The defense was a concern.  Offense was the strength, leading the
Big Ten in rushing, while committing the fewest turnovers in the nation. It
averaged 30.8 points per game. 
  The defense had been good but not spectacular, with an embarrassing
letdown against Ohio State in the second half.
  But on Monday, in the second half, it suddenly found new life. It shut down
USC's rushing attack, wrapped its arms around everybody with the ball, and
finally managed to catch the speedball at quarterback, Peete.  It sacked Peete
for a loss, then forced him out of the pocket and knocked the ball out for a
fumble.
  And finally, in the last desperation  drive by USC, it came up with the
biggest turnover of all. John Milligan stepped in front of a Peete pass,
picked it off, and the Michigan sideline exploded.
  The hex is over. Let the new era begin.
  Wake up and smell the roses.
CUTLINE:
University of Michigan's Wolverines mob Chris Calloway, who caught a six-yard
pass for a touchdown Monday in the third quarter of  U-M's 22-14 Rose Bowl
victory  over the University of Southern California.
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<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
U-M;ROSE BOWL;COLLEGE;FOOTBALL
</KEYWORDS>
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