So, here’s Marianne’s story, the rest of the tender tale about the Cougar fan and the Ute fan posted in my column on The Salt Lake Tribune website on Tuesday.

Make that the Ute fans, plural, and the Cougar fans, plural.

When it comes to the mix of the red and the blue, this is about as mixed up as it gets. But throw those colors and passions into a blender, try to puree them, try to emulsify them, and still, red is red and blue is blue.

Maybe you and yours can relate.

Let’s back up and get a running start at this:

Rich Lloyd, a patient with an aggressive form of cancer attacking his body, a huge Utah fan, and Steve Call, a devoted BYU fan and the attending physician the night Lloyd was admitted to the Huntsman Cancer Institute nearly two decades ago, developed a meaningful friendship by way of their visits during Lloyd’s treatment in the hospital.

Lloyd’s wife, Marianne, struggled her way, supporting her husband, staying by his bedside, watching everything unfold.

Call was struck by the positivity and goodness emanating from Lloyd and Marianne as they battled through what turned out to be the final week of his life.

The doctor put it like this: “I had expected fear, doubt, gloom and depression — all normal responses, given the prognosis. But I did not feel these at any time when I was in his room. The more we talked, the more I wanted to stay in the room and learn about this person. His personality was infectious, his optimism stirring and inspirational, despite his hushed voice and critical condition.”

When Lloyd discovered that Call was a BYU fan — because he wore a Cougar T-shirt under his physician’s garb — Lloyd pulled on a Utah beanie. And from there, the conversation went throttle-up. The sports fools talked and talked like there was no tomorrow, and … well, sadly, there were only a few of those left for Lloyd.

Said Marianne, who this part of the story is really about: “Sometimes, I don’t understand the way men think. Here’s a guy who’s dying and a doctor who’s treating him talking BYU and Utah football. It was good to see Rich excited about that. There was a lot of passion.”

When Lloyd passed, Call fired into his memory banks the experience, saying, “I saw in Rich the person I want to be. I want to deal with life the way he did, even when it’s difficult. I want to emulate him. … Rich changed my life. He is my friend. He is my hero. He’s a man. And he’s a Ute.”

Marianne was a hero, too, a woman, a Ute — and the center of Rich’s love, working her way through the experience, shedding tears and turning face-first into the blast of a cold wind. The couple had shared their zeal for Utah sports, even though they, as Utah students, met via a study abroad program in Jerusalem sponsored by … egads, BYU.

That was kind of a family secret.

“We [didn’t] talk much about that,” she said, with a quick laugh.

The loss of her husband to a monster that would not relent was heartbreaking for her and her children, and they had no choice but to fight on and find meaning without him.

She says now that’s what she’s done, grateful for all those who helped her on her path forward, although she also says she continues, after 18 years, to think about her beloved Rich every day. Just as she did alongside him, she cheers on the Utes with much energy.

In fact, Rich’s cousin is University of Utah president Taylor Randall.

“Go Utes!” she proclaims with great gusto.

Her kids have grown up and gone off to college. And this is where it gets complicated in a far less tragic way. Her oldest son, David, followed form and went to and graduated from Utah with a business degree. He, walking in his dad’s footsteps, is a crazy Ute. Her two younger sons, James and Joshua, took a turn, each of them heading south to attend — what’s this, shush yo’ mouth — BYU.

“My oldest son has a bit of animosity for them for doing that,” Marianne says. “He told them, ‘Stay true to Dad.’”

Those sons took heat from other family members, too.

Marianne adds: “I was going to buy BYU blankets for the two of them, but I just couldn’t do it. … It’s funny what we do to ourselves.”

But the story gets worse — or better, depending on your own allegiances — from there.

About eight years ago, Marianne met and eventually married a man — Scott Burnett — she describes as “wonderful.” His spouse had passed away, as well. Together, the couple found comfort and companionship with each other. Only one problem — he’s a BYU grad, his kids are BYU alums, and he’s a hardcore Cougar fan.

How exactly does that work?

The same as it does in hundreds of other families in and out of the state of Utah who have kind of a college sports cross-pollination.

And it’s OK. Scott took Marianne to Utah games and she went with him to BYU games.

“It makes for fun conversations,” she says. “A whole lot of banter. It’s good, if you can learn to live with the opposition.”

Live and learn, Marianne has: “We’ve come through it.”

The moral of the story is that there are great people on both sides of the Utah-BYU rivalry, people who work their way through the challenges of life, enjoying their passions, allowing them to help them get by, and en route loving some of the folks who wear a different color than they do.

Marianne Lloyd Burnett is one of them.