It was a great day.

Good triumphed over evil. The rebels defeated The Empire, and Luke smacked his daddy. The universe, which had been tipping toward meanness and stupidity for many years, achieved balance.

I'm referring, of course, to UCLA's gridiron win over then-ranked No. 2 USC, ruining their title hopes.

The sublime joy of screwing up USC's football season is a treat for any UCLA alum. The day was sheer bliss — my voice raw from cheering with the Hawaii Bruin club, text messaging friends in the Rose Bowl, laughing at the jokes: This shot of the USC bench brought to you by ... Kleenex!

(I'll pause here for the benefit of my editors who are wondering what all this football talk has to do with "About Women." Well, nothing. So I offer this: UCLA head football coach Karl Dorrell is seriously hot! C'mon ladies — check him out! ... Uh, okay, never mind. I just conducted an informal poll among discerning Advertiser ladies and I'm only getting "cutie," "nice eyes," and "good looking in an Ashton Kutcher, goofy-cute kinda way." So I stand alone. Or do I? Readers?)

Even several days later, I get chicken skin thinking about Dec. 2, or looking at friends' pictures of my Bruins rushing the field that now litter my desktop.

But I couldn't get fired up about the UH game against Oregon State that day. Nor its season.

Why? Because one team turning another one into paste is not football. Clearly, UH needs a tougher schedule.

I grant you the game against the Beavs was an exception, as were Purdue and Boise State. But most of the season was a series of grim WAC matchups.

I watched UH play Utah State from a bar in Ala Moana Center with a girlfriend who goes to the home games. The score? 63-10. I had to start cracking jokes to keep myself entertained. Such as, I don't see how the team can show their faces around Manoa unless they score at least 70.

But you could see the juice in people around town for that Oregon State game. The crowd at Murphy's decked out in green. Everybody wearing "In Colt We Trust" T-shirts. The holy-cow-traffic-is-bad traffic.

The island was electrified about UH. Looked like fun.

It'd be nice to root for the hometown team. Can we move UH into the Pac-10? Or tie Colt Brennan's arm behind his back and watch him put up the same stats?

Maybe someday.

But as for Dec. 2, that glorious day in which the righteous won over tyranny in Pasadena, I communed with a different crowd of fans — at the Pearl Jam concert at Blaisdell Arena.

I went with a lifelong 'Bows fan. He listened to the UH game the whole time on an arm-band radio.

There's just no stoppin' the love for your boys.

Reach Christine Strobel at cstrobel@honoluluadvertiser.com.