BYU platooned junior Marc Wilson and sophomore Jim McMahon at quarterback while Utah had a diminutive QB named Randy Gomez. Though Wilson and McMahon would go on to shatter a slew of NCAA records, lead the Cougars to national prominence and go on to long NFL careers, it was Gomez, who would go on to play minor league baseball for seven years, including a brief stint in the Major Leagues, that emerged victorious that day.

Gomez scrambled around and made some amazing plays, helping the Utes rally from a 16-0 halftime deficit. The biggest play of all happened on fourth-and-15. That's right, long before last year's fourth-and-18 heroics by Cougar quarterback Max Hall and wide receiver Austin Collie, magic happened for Utah as Gomez hit Frank Henry with a touchdown pass on fourth-and-15 to lift the Utes to a 23-22 lead with less than three minutes remaining.

In the waning seconds, as it became apparent that the Cougars were going to fall to the Utes for the first time in seven seasons, a couple of fresh-faced, college-aged BYU fans sitting several rows in front of us got into a shouting match with a couple of middle-aged Ute fans.

"BYU sucks!" screamed someone in red.

"Oh yeah?" a blue-clad fan shot back. "At least we're going to the Holiday Bowl!"

Yes, despite the loss, the Cougars had already clinched the WAC title and were on their way to the inaugural Holiday Bowl in San Diego to play Navy.

"Well, you and BYU &%*$#!"

Like I said, I lost a lot of my innocence that day.

Then things got really ugly. There was some pushing and shoving and more yelling. At about the time the situation was about to erupt into full-scale fisticuffs, my uncle rushed toward the nearest portal in search of security personnel. He returned with some police officers, who broke up the brawl and escorted several BYU and Utah fans from the premises.

That afternoon, I began to understand the intensity, and passion, of BYU vs. Utah. Of course, I didn't know at the time that I would attend 23 of the next 30 rivalry games, which has only cemented those initial impressions.

Now, as Paul Harvey (or is that Paul James?) used to say, here's the rest of the story.

Not long after that BYU-Utah game, my dad started getting very suspicious of those guys running his printing business. The bank pointed out to him that huge checks were being written for thousands of dollars more than what was in the company account.

One morning, my dad, determined to get answers, showed up at the warehouse, pounding on the door. A hulking FBI agent answered the door. My dad got his answers.