Former USC long snapper Jake Olson made college football history at the Coliseum in September 2017 as the first completely blind player to compete in a Division I college football game.
Eight years later, his not-quite-8-month-old son was having the time of his life crawling around on the same field.
The significance of the moment was not lost on Olson.
“Watching Rowan crawl around out there on that grass, in that stadium that shaped so much of my story, was emotional in a way I didn’t expect,” Olson told The Times during a series of interviews over the phone and via email. “It felt like a full-circle blessing.”
It wasn’t the only blessing Olson, his wife, Audrey, and their son experienced during that trip to Los Angeles in September.
“We were actually out there for Rowan’s first checkup after finishing his last round of systemic chemo,” Olson said, “so the whole trip already carried this sense of celebration and relief.”
Rowan was born Jan. 17, 2025, with bilateral retinoblastoma, the same rare childhood cancer that had caused his father to lose both of his eyes by age 12. Since his diagnosis at 6 days old, Rowan has made monthly trips with his parents from their home in Jacksonville, Fla., to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, the same place his father had been treated decades earlier while growing up in Huntington Beach.
During those hospital visits, Rowan underwent systemic and intravitreal chemotherapy and laser treatments designed to shrink the cancerous tumors in each of his eyes, stop the cancer from spreading and preserve his vision.
After six months of treatment, the tumors had become small enough that the systemic chemotherapy could stop. And now, according to Dr. Jesse Berry, chief of ophthalmology and director of the retinoblastoma program at CHLA, the laser treatment and injections into Rowan’s eyes are no longer needed as well.
“I think right now he is cancer-free,” Berry said. “We have no evidence that he has active cancer anywhere in his body, but he’s a kiddo that we will always watch closely.”
The monthly visits to CHLA will eventually be spaced out, but Rowan will have to be monitored the rest of his life in case the cancer returns.
“There’s always a chance that small tumors pop up here and there over the next couple of years, which is normal for retinoblastoma. That’s why constant monitoring is so important,” Olson said. “As long as we stay on top of it, any tiny spot that appears can be lasered immediately and taken care of.”
Unlike Rowan, Olson was not diagnosed until he was 8 months old. His left eye was removed two months later, while the remaining cancer was treated with systemic chemotherapy. Olson was 12 when doctors decided his right eye needed to be removed.
“Retinoblastoma is very treatable — you know, you catch it early, it’s very treatable,” Olson said.
“I just don’t want [Rowan] to have a 12-year battle with this. Dr. Berry made that very clear up front that his situation is a lot different than mine, that we’re going to knock these things out, and he’s going to grow up with sight in both eyes and really never probably remember a lot of it.”
According to Berry, Rowan has “excellent vision.”
Olson’s ophthalmologist at CHLA was the late Dr. A. Linn Murphree, a pioneer in ocular oncology who later served as Berry’s mentor.
After Rowan was diagnosed, the Olsons didn’t hesitate in choosing a hospital more than 2,400 miles from home for their son’s treatment, both because of its reputation as a leading retinoblastoma center and because of the special care Olson received there throughout his childhood.
“I texted [Berry] — at what was 6:30 in the morning her time — and she responded within two minutes, encouraging us and confidently telling us that she will take the best care of Rowan,” Olson said. “That’s just a glimpse into who she is and the culture Dr. Murphree built.”
At the time, Berry was dealing with hardship of her own. She and her family had just lost their Altadena home in the Eaton fire and were considering leaving the Los Angeles area to rebuild their lives. She said a call from Olson about his newborn son helped her decide to stay.
“Jake called and said, ‘I just had a baby, and I’m sitting in a doctor’s office and they think he has RB, and I want to come see you.’ And that was the same week as the fire,” Berry said. “And so I said, ‘OK, we’ll see you next week.’ He and his family were a real anchor to keeping us set in L.A. and really focused on the greater mission.”
Once back at CHLA, Olson experienced an intense feeling of deja vu.
“We walked into the same waiting room I used to sit in, the same exam rooms, hearing the same vocabulary I hadn’t heard in years. It was like being thrown straight into the deep end of my past,” Olson said.
“The hardest moment was going to the part of the hospital where my last surgery — the one that took my eyesight — took place. Even though I couldn’t see it, my body remembered. I had to fight back panic I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling. But I had to stay steady for Audrey and for Rowan. That was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
But the location of the monthly treatments came with an extra benefit.
“When we found out that [Rowan] had this tumor, we immediately flew out to California and were surrounded by Jake’s family, who had gone through this and had the experience, the wisdom and knowledge around the disease,” Audrey Olson said.
“So I really leaned on the support of the family we were surrounded by. And then I also just leaned on Jake, who I know lived a major life after losing his sight and battling his cancer. We definitely leaned on each other a ton and could not have done it without each other.”
USC football has been a major part of Olson’s life since childhood. Upon learning he would be losing his eyesight, Olson became determined to watch as much of the Trojans as he could before his surgery. Then-coach Pete Carroll heard about Olson and allowed him to hang out with the team in meetings, in the locker room and on the sideline. His last day with sight was spent at a USC practice.
It wouldn’t be Olson’s last time in that environment. Not even close. After years of learning the techniques of a long snapper, Olson earned a first-string spot at the position for Orange Lutheran and joined the Trojans in 2015 as a walk-on player.
Two years later, on Sept. 2, 2017, then-coach Clay Helton called on the 20-year-old long snapper for an extra-point attempt following a USC touchdown against Western Michigan. Olson’s snap, as described by The Times’ Bill Plaschke at the time, was “perfect” and the kick was good, sealing a 49-31 Trojans victory.
“You just never know what’s going to come from adversity and from situations, like the miracles that can come from what we think are tragedies. And that miracle for me was playing football at SC,” said Olson, who played in a total of three games during his time with the Trojans. “Honestly, I don’t know if I ever would have done that if I kept my eyesight or never had cancer. So for me, being able to play at that school was a pinnacle of everything I’d gone through that had led me there.
“I don’t know what Rowan’s pinnacle is going to be, but there’s going to be miracles that come from this. … There’s a level of excitement to that, just hope and knowing there’s going to be something special that comes from this. For me, it was playing at USC, and I think that’s just indisputable evidence of that. And we’ll see what that is for Rowan.”
As news broke about Rowan’s recovery in recent weeks, Olson said he received a text from current USC coach Lincoln Riley.
“He sent a really, really special message that just let us know he’s praying for us,” Olson said. “Trojan football has helped me get through so much in life. It did last year, is going to this year and for every year to come. And if, Lord willing, Rowan will one day wear that helmet too.”
During his family’s visit to the Coliseum last fall, Olson introduced his wife and son to Helton, now the head coach at Georgia Southern, whose team was practicing ahead of its game against the Trojans the next day.
“That alone felt special,” Olson said of meeting up with the coach who had helped change his life. “But then, we were able to walk out onto the exact yard line where I snapped from.
“Standing there with my wife and son, on the very spot where I had shown so much resilience myself, felt like seeing the fruits of ‘Fight On’ in real time. It acted as a reminder and encouragement for why I was still fighting on now through this new cancer journey. It was surreal and sacred at the same time.
“If it weren’t for the Coliseum and USC football, I genuinely don’t know if Audrey or Rowan would be in my life. And if it weren’t for me learning how to fight on through all that it took in order to get to that 3-yard line, I don’t know how I would be fighting on as a father or a husband now. So to have both of them there, on that field, taking it all in for the first time, it meant the world.”
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