Like any devoted grandmother, Margo Runyan jumped at the chance to chat with her grandchildren.

That is, unless USC was playing.

When she died at the age of ninety-seven, Mrs. Runyan had been an unwavering fan of USC football for fifty years. The Long Beach resident embodied a unique blend of sportsmanship: a refined decorum on the one hand and a cutthroat competiveness on the other. Above all else, Mrs. Runyan's story reminds us that, for many fans, loyalty to a team runs deeper than wins and losses.

As the story goes, the grandmother of four was prepared to strike a little deal with her son. If he went to USC, rather than "chasing the dream of jazz" in New York, she'd pay his tuition free and clear. One might say that her "offer" dangled dangerously close to "bribe." She might call it a "corrective tug" or a "nudge in the right direction." Two of her grandchildren ended up at a modest school in Westwood called UCLA. She was proud of them of course, her granddaughter Holly said, but needless to say, it was something to come to terms with.

On Saturdays she was harder to get to than Pete Carroll on game day. She couldn't be bothered by chitty chat during Saturday football. Not this Grandma. As a grandchild you got forty seconds of solid phone time, as an outsider, she'd screen your call. Her friends would have to excuse her after their Saturday morning social. Most likely they would be given the "Have a nice day, I'm going upstairs to watch football" bit. Is it her fault that football happens after Bridge?

At the end of the day, Mrs. Runyan loved her team-- and she was no fair weather fan. She stayed true even during the lean years between John Robinson I and Pete Carroll. A fan of a different breed might deck themselves head to toe in USC garb and wear their loyalty on their sleeve, so to speak. This was never Mrs. Runyan's style. She preferred a more restrained fashion statement paired with an honest dedication.

She loved college football in its most basic form. Holly recalls that her grandmother's dedication to the Trojans was a statement, of sorts.

She loved to be a part of an institution that meant something—even if from the sidelines. She loved, above all, that the Trojans players played with all of their hearts –hearts innocent, uncorrupted and as yet unfazed by NFL salaries. For Mrs. Runyan, college football was what was right--camaraderie at its strongest and a collective enthusiasm that felt downright pure.

Every so often a Margo Runyan needs to come around to give us our own corrective tug. Her genuine enthusiasm for her Trojans reminds us that true loyalty comes from a place beneath the layers of national championships. Her 50-year devotion to USC football didn't just come from a love of the game itself-- it came from what the game represented. Now, there's a fan.

Oh, did I mention that her son went to New York but ended up at USC for his masters?