“I can’t believe it’s that time of year again. The one week of the year that I dread more than any other. The week when I feel as if the weight of the world is upon my shoulders. Yes, it is Big Game Week, the annual football frenzy that ends Saturday when Cal visits Stanford to determine Bay Area pigskin supremacy.”

I wrote those words last year, and probably the year before and the year before that, but they are relevant this year and every year, going all the way back to the first Big Game in 1892 and certainly going forward to the Big Game scheduled for 2092.

Every year, of course, things flip flop in terms of who hosts and who visits, but it’s still the Big Game. The only difference, really, is that thanks to the Hayward fault, there’s a much better chance of an earthquake interrupting the proceedings when the game is played in Berkeley.

Cal’s Memorial Stadium, as some of you may know, has been shut down all fall for a major renovation project, forcing the Golden Bears to play their home games across the Bay at AT&T Park. Doesn’t matter, this one’s on The Farm.

Last year I noted that “To listen to partisans from both sides of the line of scrimmage, much more than Bay Area supremacy is at stake.

Since I didn’t attend either school for even a single semester — in fact, after viewing my high school transcript, officials at Stanford requested that I please not even visit the campus — you’d think I wouldn’t care at all about this game. Truth be known, I don’t.

Unfortunately, those around me do care, including my oldest son, the Cal grad, who regularly breaks out his special T-shirt this time of year that tells Stanford folks what they can do to themselves.

Another guy who always cared was the Late, Great Joe Carey, a Cal grad who was one of the most beloved teachers in the Davis public school system before his death in 2010.

Every November — on the Monday of Big Game Week — Joe would call and demand a meeting prior to the publication of my fearless forecast on the outcome of this momentous annual showdown. So we’d meet at an obscure location late in the afternoon, order chips and salsa and beer, and I’d listen while Joe made his case.

Interestingly, his case always and inevitably led to a presumed victory for his beloved California Golden Bears. Last year I sat alone at the same spot, ordered two beers and salsa and chips, and listened for Joe’s voice.

“Take the Bears” was all I heard. So I took the Bears (21-20) in Joe’s memory, betting with my heart instead of my head and was rewarded with a resounding Cal loss.

I love Joe Carey, but I will not make that mistake again.

While I have never attended the Big Game — like I said, I don’t care — I have for the past 41 years publicly forecast the winner of the game in this very spot. This will be my 42nd such fearless forecast, and like all those in previous years, it comes with a money-back guarantee. I guarantee this game will have a winner or it won’t cost you a dime. If you’re foolish enough to bet on the game, however, you’re on your own.

Now for a little history of the Big Game and this column’s relationship to it.

Several times I’ve noted that “One year long ago, in a fit of foolishness, I bragged that my forecast had never been wrong. When that year’s forecast came true, and then the next year’s and the next, myth became fact. And fact became legend.

“I began to repeat the lie until I believed it myself. I became so convinced of my own forecasting prowess that I could have passed a lie detector test on the key question of whether I had ever been wrong on the Big Game.”

Wait, there’s more.

“One day a stuffy Stanford grad — redundancy mine — contacted me with what he said was ‘evidence’ that I had not actually predicted the correct winner of every Big Game. Using charts and graphs and what I’m sure we’re outright forgeries of previous columns, he claimed I had been wrong as often as I had been right. Since more often than not I have picked Cal to win over these last 41 years, I’m certain he was just a sore loser.

“I will say that ever since he disputed my claim that I had never been wrong, I have never been wrong. Except maybe once. That streak will continue this year.”

I also pointed out, quite accurately, that “The folks in charge of promoting this game aren’t anxious to have my forecast come out before kickoff for fear that advance knowledge of the outcome will hurt ticket sales. Oddsmakers in Reno have offered me large stacks of real dollars if I keep my prediction to myself.

“When the forecast comes out on Wednesday of Big Game Week — as it does each year — representatives of Cal and Stanford read the prediction, then scoop up as many copies of the paper as possible to keep it from reaching general circulation. The coach of the forecasted winner happily distributes it to his charges in order to build confidence. The coach of the forecasted loser makes certain his players never touch a copy of this newspaper.

“But it’s hard to fool those Stanford kids. I mean, if they haven’t seen The Davis Enterprise by Friday, they know something’s up. It’s called deductive reasoning and it’s why these guys go to Stanford.”

Now here’s where the Big Game gets interesting. As with many rivalry games across the country, expect the unexpected. If you’re undefeated and the other guy is 0-11, it’s a dead certainty the other guy is going to win. That’s just the way rivalry games work.

What happened last Saturday in games involving both Stanford and Cal yields some important clues about what’s likely to happen this Saturday.

After rolling to a 9-0 record, No. 3 national ranking and possible berth in the national championship game, Stanford and its Stupid Tree mascot were chopped into sawdust by a lightning-fast group of kids from a state that knows a thing or two about felling tall trees.

So Stanford is no longer undefeated, no longer No. 3 in the country and no longer being talked about as a worthy opponent for LSU in the national championship game. The Cardinal’s season is in tatters.

There is no reason to go on. Nothing to play for.

But, as Luck (Andrew) would have it, there are two games left on the Stanford schedule and first-year coach David Shaw is insisting that his charges suit up for both of them.

Cal, meanwhile, while nowhere near as talented as Stanford, is on a roll, having put together back-to-back wins to assure itself of a bid to a junior varsity bowl game of some sort. Probably the Pear Bowl in Medford.

There’s no question that Stanford has the better quarterback, even if Cal has more Nobel Prize winners.

Stanford is down in the dumps, lamenting what might have been in a now-lost season. On the other side of the line of scrimmage stand the mighty Golden Bears, soaring in anticipation of returning The Axe to Berkeley.

Once again, all signs — and I do mean all — point to a lopsided Cal victory. Big Mo is clearly standing on the Bears’ side of the field.
Stanford, 38-14.

— Reach Bob Dunning at [email protected]

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