THE WRITING ON (AND OFF) THE WALL USC OPENER BRINGS OUT CHAOS IN TAILGATERS.

Byline: TOM HOFFARTH

There is definitely an art to tailgating. The selection of a menu, sending out the e-mail to designate who's supposed to bring what, judiciously packing the trunk, scouting the right parking lot to set up in, and, depending on the kickoff, determining what time to congregate doesn't happen by itself. Those who master it should be teaching a college-level course.

Because no matter how many times the dance is done, the first tailgate of the season for one particular group of USC season ticket-seat holders inevitably turns into a Three Stooges-like fire drill.

It's Saturday morning, six hours before the Trojans' home opener against Colorado State, and the phone calls are flying.

``Who's bringing aluminum foil?''

``I'm telling you, three dozen brats aren't enough for 30 people. We need more Portobello mushroom burgers.''

``Pete is there already? But he can't save us a space big enough?''

``Propane? I'll never use propane. Only charcoal.''

``Where's my recipe for pan-seared scallops?''

``Did Mike ever RSVP?''

``He said his date canceled, so he's just going to park at the McDonald's and find us later.''

``Tell him to bring aluminum foil.''

It's easy to figure where the name came from, but no one's really certain how the truly American phenomenon of tailgating started. Even if car-crazy Southern California didn't create it, it has certainly brought it to new levels. Just cruise through any of the Coliseum parking lots before a Trojans game to see for yourself.

Anchored on one of the inroads that lead to Exposition Park, for example, is a converted mini-bus with the words ``The Fifth Quarter'' painted across the front. ``Fight On'' it says on each side, along with the group's motto: ``Win Or Lose, We Still Booze.''

Some 16 partners, including Joe De Coma of Newport Beach, share in the upkeep of the mobile unit, which includes two flat-screen TV sets, a frozen margarita machine, a beer tap coming out of one side and a drum- sized barbecue that had Italian sausages roasting feverishly. They each decided they are allowed to invite some 10 people to each tailgate, but the crowd swells to more than 200 quickly.

``We just started doing this last year, so we're learning how to do our tailgate as we go along,'' said De Coma, whose group also has its own Web site (www.usctailgate.com) to let everyone know where it'll be parked and what's on tap. ``We've decided we have to shut it all down just before kickoff, or else people stay here and never go into the game.''

The setup is similar to the customized 2004 F-150 ``Party Truck'' that's available through Galpin Ford.

A truck-bed top lifts up to reveal a 37-inch plasma TV in the bed near the cab. There's a full-size stainless steel propane barbecue coming out of the tailgate. And don't forget the double-tap keg pour station, a sink with running water, two ice chests and a full-sized blender to mix drinks. It's yours for just $75,000.

``Lot 3 looks full, but we've got to get in there.''

``It's 20 bucks this year? When did that go up?''

``We'll never find anything in the shade. I knew we should have left earlier.''

``Jim just called. He says he can't be here until 3 because his kid's soccer game ran long and he has to pick up his wife in San Bernardino.''

``Great. He's supposed to be bringing the appetizers.''

If you enter the Coliseum and see sections of empty seats just before kickoff, chances are they belong to the tailgaters still outside who decided they weren't in any rush to leave their parties. A few are still hanging out with friends, watching the opening of the USC-Colorado State game on their portable TVs, finishing off a freshly-cooked hamburger.

For those who can't find a ticket to a high-demand USC game these days, the tailgate party can somewhat replace the thrill of being there without actually being in the stadium.

So what makes a USC tailgate special from the storied outdoor parties in the South, the classy affairs at Notre Dame or the boat parades off Lake Washington in Seattle? Diversity.

Some are simple. A bucket of KFC, a card table, a blanket and some toys for the kids. A portable BBQ, some pre-baked desserts and cole slaw to go from Langers does just fine, too.

On the other end, some of the bigger-planned events thrown by alumni or booster groups come with an entry fee, as much as $50 a person with unlimited food and beverage. Fresh-cut flowers adorn the tables. Carrot cake and coffee are offered. IDs are required. Posh seating is limited.

On a humid day like Saturday, where the temperatures felt like triple-digits before 8 a.m., the Coliseum outskirts only lack one major thing: Shade.

But most don't sweat it. Some will welcome them into their party for relief.

``I need O.J.?''

``Simpson?''

``Orange juice. For the mimosas.''

``Can you mix orange juice with Captain Morgan?''

``If that's all we brought, it'll have to do.''

Maybe the charm of these pregame gatherings and post-game celebrations are what Joe Cain, a retiree from New Orleans who set up his Web site (www.tailgating.com), refers to as ``the last great American neighborhood.''

Cain, who calls himself the ``Commissioner of Tailgating,'' and has toured high school, college and pro stadiums in his RV since 1998, reasons that these are the last places where ``no one locks their doors, everyone is happy to see you and all are together sharing fun, food and football.''

All of which makes going through the trouble of trying to plan these things week after week, year after year, despite all the hurdles, really seem worth it.

CAPTION(S):

5 photos, box

Photo:

(1) ELTON JOHN

(2) ANDY RODDICK

(3) GARY PAYTON

(4) no caption (Frank McCourt)

(5) SHAQUILLE O'NEAL

Box:

Sunday PUNCH