Editor’s note: Eighth in a series exploring BYU’s 1984 national football championship.

No way Robbie Bosco could let an injury keep him from finishing the biggest game of his life.

The setting was the 1984 Holiday Bowl, BYU vs. Michigan. Nobody else — not Washington, not Oklahoma — would take on the challenge of playing undefeated BYU, so 6-6 Michigan did.

“For those who’ve experienced it, the adrenaline kind of masks the pain and as long as we were playing, I didn’t feel it as much. But in between plays, I could feel it.”

—  BYU quarterback Robbie Bosco

The Cougars had come so far. A 13-0 record was in sight. Bosco had worked hard. His teammates had made sacrifices and, for a change, the team was healthy and in a groove heading into their bowl game. It wasn’t time to sit on the sidelines while the college football world tied itself in knots that an outsider dared take what the game’s blue bloods believed was their birthright.

But there he was, in the locker room in the first quarter, a high ankle sprain getting taped up by a trainer. It was a national championship event and he was a key player for No. 1-ranked BYU.

‘I couldn’t stand up’

Four decades later, the memory for Bosco is etched in stone.

A few minutes before being taken to the locker room, Bosco had completed a pass to Glen Kozlowski before a Michigan lineman rolled up on his leg. With his foot stuck on the ground, the tackler trapped Bosco’s ankle at an awkward angle, and then grabbed the leg and twisted and turned it as he rolled over on the grass. An excruciating pain shot up Bosco’s leg.

“I remember laying there and thinking, ‘Just get up, I’ll be OK. Everything will be fine,’ but I couldn’t get up. Then I said to myself, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. I can’t miss this game. Our players have played through pain all season, they’ve been hurt and still found a way to get on the field.’ But I couldn’t stand up.”

BYU’s medical staff carried Bosco off the field and to the locker room. They checked his knee for an ACL tear and Bosco told them he felt OK — not great, but not like he was helpless. He asked if he got back out and played, would it risk further damage? The answer was no.

“Tape it up,” Bosco said. “Tape it up as tight as you can and let’s go see what I can do.”

Doctors asked if he wanted anything for the pain. He refused.

“I didn’t want to mess with that,” said Bosco.

He could hear the sounds of the game outside — the grind of two teams going at it. Nobody was scoring.

Outside the locker room, the stadium featured a long tunnel that led to the field. As Bosco gingerly walked down that long hallway lined with concrete walls, he saw his dad. Somehow his father had managed to talk his way onto the field, past the security personnel guarding the field exit and made it inside the tunnel.

Seeing his dad at that moment and that place hit Bosco with tremendous force.

“You just can’t believe how much that meant to me as a son that my dad was there for me and making sure I was OK.”

Bosco felt his confidence rise. Here was his father, who’d been by his side his entire life, supporting him in all his games, his wins and losses. “I told him I was going to try and play. People play hurt all the time.”

Buoyed up by that moment, Bosco stepped out of the tunnel and walked toward the playing field. As soon as he stepped under the lights, he heard a roar from the crowd. That reaction lifted Bosco in a way he’ll always remember.

“It was awesome,” he said.

Bosco felt a bolt of adrenalin shoot through his body. His competitive juices began to flow anew, but he knew he still had to see if he could move around.

“I started warming up, dropping back a little bit,” he said. The pain began shooting through his leg so intensely he was taken aback. “Man, this thing hurts more than I thought,” he said.

When he planted his foot to throw, he could feel his ankle slide to the side so, in his mind, he would need to adjust his passes by keeping his lower body going straight back and forward in his dropback move. There could be no side shuffles.

Bosco asked the trainer to tape his ankle even tighter for stabilization. It was double-taped as he walked up to quarterback coach Mike Holmgren and told him he was back. Holmgren had no idea Bosco had made it out of the locker room and back to the field.

“I’m ready,” said Bosco.

“No, you’re not,” said Holmgren. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am.”

And with that, Bosco didn’t wait for approval. He just trotted onto the field.

Change of plans

When Bosco got to the huddle he told his teammates they would do something they’d never practiced before. They’d use their plays with him operating out of the shotgun. That meant Bosco and his center Trevor Matich would need to operate on the fly and execute this new ball exchange without a hitch or rehearsal.

Meanwhile, Michigan continued to pressure BYU’s offense. The Michigan defense had been hobbled with injuries most of the season; it was part of the reason they’d won just six games. But for this game Michigan was fully healthy and BYU was getting the full brunt of the Wolverines’ blitz and pressure packages.

Bosco would need to play the rest of the game with almost no mobility to elude the Michigan pressure.

After attempting a pass, Michigan came after him and hit him low. Going back to the huddle, Bosco pled for his teammates to protect him, to block better. They responded as if possessed for the rest of the game. They were not only effective, but dominated the line.

“They were amazing,” said Bosco.

Bosco then used the shotgun formation. The challenge was to somehow communicate the count to the rest of his team and the center out of the shotgun instead of with his hands under Matich. The first shotgun hike came in fast and hit Bosco right in the gut as he was trying to yell out the snap count. But he gathered in the ball and tossed it to running back Kelly Smith.

“Trevor just didn’t know what I was going to do with the count either. It was kind of a weird thing,” said Bosco.

The play was a hot route to counter the Michigan blitz. Once BYU proved it could execute the hot route off blitzes, Michigan stopped bringing so much heat.

For Bosco, adrenaline took over.

Playing through pain

“For those who’ve experienced it, the adrenaline kind of masks the pain and as long as we were playing, I didn’t feel it as much. But in between plays, I could feel it.”

The game continued and Bosco confessed he did some dumb things, like fumble the ball in the end zone, costing the Cougars a potential touchdown and a three-TD lead. “We made some mistakes that made it a closer game than it should have been at 24-17. We should have beaten them by more.”

As the game progressed BYU’s defense came up big and on the final BYU score, Bosco found Smith for the winning touchdown pass, the clincher.

“It had been a Cinderella story,” said Bosco. “Everybody in the country besides BYU fans probably didn’t think we deserved it, but we were ranked No. 1. LaVell Edwards had a lot of respect because of who he was and what he’d done and except for the ones who were ranked two or three, they wanted to see LaVell get a chance to win it all.”

And Bosco and company were obliged to deliver.

His father Lou is 93 and Robbie can hardly get him to say anything anymore. “He’s just hanging on.”

But there was a day, a time, a moment, when his dad was there.

And the son hung on to finish what he started.

Big time.