Editor's Note
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November 20th, 2005. A tragic day for Stanford fans everywhere. As I headed back to my dorm that evening, I was cold, tired, hungry and bitter for many reasons – an emotional low from which I am still recovering. Yet, through the two rough defeats I witnessed that day, I think I have found something positive to dwell on.
I have attended the annual Stanford-Cal Big Game nearly every year since before I can remember. I know all the history of the match up – the stories, pranks, traditions and cheers. I’m in the minority of students that have seen Stanford play at the Rose Bowl, in person, against someone other than UCLA. I’ve seen Cal students riot in the streets of Berkeley. I’ve seen the entire Cal and Stanford student sections simultaneously rush the field, held back from tearing each-other to shreds only by a line of police in riot gear. I’ve walked down Piedmont to the chants of drunken fraternity members instructing me to take off my shirt – I’m still not quite sure why they want to see my blindingly pale chest. Yes, I was even there when Cal students tore down their own goal-post.
Through all of the challenges I faced in high school, I think I always held the suggestion in the back of my mind that perhaps, one day, I might be one of those students clad in cardinal red, cheering on the Stanford football team and celebrating on the field as we claimed the axe as our own. I wouldn’t necessarily be the one throwing fruit at the Cal band, but at least a part of the action – a sense of belonging to something special. Yet, when I arrived on campus to witness my first big game as an official Stanford student, I must admit, it was, well, hum-drum. It might have been that our team was not particularly good that year or perhaps the hot weather was too much for Stanford students to handle, but whatever it was, our cheering section was lame.
Has our generation become tame relative to our predecessors? I’m not sure. I hear the stories from the days when a keg or two was commonplace not just at the tailgates – but in the student section. I have read about the pranks from even 30 years ago that would probably land you in prison these days. Yet, I can also verify that there is no lack of parties on Stanford’s campus. In some ways, though, it seems to me we have gone politically correct. I recall a couple years ago when most Cal students wore a shirt that merely stated “fuck Stanford.” Stanford’s response was a hat that states “FuCal.” What is FuCal? It sounds like another recruiting gimmick in the shadow of FroSoCo and FloMo. If we’re going to take our enthusiasm to such creative heights as exclaiming “fuck Cal,” why not just do so flat out?
Well, for once, someone did. For those of you that saw the infamous “big game video” – it was funny. And it also pushed the boundaries of political correctness – but it did so in a way that was creative and probably made people excited about our rivalry. I saw a number of t-shirts at the game which bore the oh-so-controversial Stanford Indian. Though our campus has grown fearful of offending the fragile race barriers institutionalized by the race box printed on every Stanford application, most polls indicate that Indians – wait, sorry, “Native Americans” – don’t have much of a problem with Indian mascots. It is only in the world of academia that we are fearful of anything that might be deemed remotely offensive. Some students apparently had the guts to make the shirts anyway. I commend them, not because the mere image of a cartoon Indian offends some paranoid speech-police, but because of the broader statement it makes about how we cannot be afraid to be offensive on a college campus. Being in the student section at the big game was fun because it was unmitigated by those who think Larry Summers ought to be fired because he made a controversial proposal. In an era where the “homophobic and sexist” pink locker room at the University of Iowa has become fodder for a lawsuit, it was nice to see our alumni, for just one day, bring a healthy and much needed dose of the real world to the Stanford bubble. And for all of the tailgaters with those nifty Stanford Indians knitted sweaters – I think next year will be our year.
