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JOINING FORCES WITH
THE ENEMY |
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There's nothing wrong with a good rivalry. It gets the
competitive juices flowing and brings some zip to our lives. That's why
I'm a little worried my Cal/Stanford rivalry is in jeopardy.
My disdain for Stanford began 50 years ago, when I applied
for admission during my senior year in high school. I knew my grades were
a little weak for Stanford, but I had some other attributes that I thought
would put me over the top.
I still marvel at how fast the rejection letter came back. I
might be exaggerating a bit, but I'm pretty sure it was within three days.
It was clear they didn't want me, and I've despised them ever since.
I moved on to Cal, where I belonged. I embraced the
Cal/Stanford rivalry and looked forward to crushing them in every
endeavor, whether it was sports or academia. When we won, like we did last
Saturday in the Big Game, it was invigorating. When we lost, like we often
did, it was because they had more money.
I was a man of the people, toiling away in a public
university. Stanford was the elitist private school, out of touch with the
common people. They deserved to lose.
We had the lovable Oski the bear as our mascot, they had a
stupid tree. We had a traditional marching band, they had a bunch of
misfits masquerading as a band and always getting in trouble for
politically incorrect performances. We had traditional song girls in
tennis shoes, they had the Stanford Dollies, all dressed up in short white
skirts with red boots.
Okay, slight edge to Stanford on that last one. At least we
had Oski.
Cal vs. Stanford. It ranks right up there with Army/Navy,
Ohio State/Michigan, Duke/North Carolina, Giants/Dodgers and Yankees/Red
Sox. It's fun, it's healthy and it's beautiful. And now I might lose it.
The reason I'm wavering is a medical one. When I began having
minor complications from a hip replacement about a year and a half ago, I
naturally went to the specialists at UCSF (I know it's not Cal, but it's
still the University of California), world -renowned for its medical
expertise.
They have failed me, at least so far. When someone suggested
I see a specialist at Stanford, I cringed. They were the enemy, the object
of my scorn for 50 years. How could I ask them to help me?
Not a problem. I'd go to Moscow or North Korea if I thought
it would help eliminate this nagging pain. If those snotty little nerds
from Stanford could help me, I was all for them. The only downside was
that it would end my beloved hatred for them.
So I'm going. In fact, my first appointment was yesterday. I
drove down to the Stanford Health medical offices in Redwood City and
walked into the lobby. Typical Stanford. A pianist was playing
classical tunes.
Who has a piano playing in the lobby of a medical office?
Stanford, that's who. The only thing missing was the Stanford Dollies.
Everything was brand new, everything was first class, everything was
sparkling. The place reeked of money.
I quickly got some X-rays done, and then was ushered into a
room for my appointment with the specialist. After 50 minutes of waiting,
my frustration was growing.
I refused to believe that they had learned I went to Cal and
were punishing me, although it did cross my mind. They were just insanely
busy, I suppose. I'm sure they treated Stanford grads the same way.
As for answers, there were none. No Stanford miracles, so
far. The brainiacs at Stanford Health were no more successful than the
brainiacs at UCSF. More tests were ordered, and the battle has begun.
For the first time since I got that hasty rejection letter 50
years ago, I'm rooting for Stanford. If the spoiled, elitist, ridiculously
wealthy private institution can fix my minor complication from my hip
replacement, then I will bow to them.
But I also know that I bleed blue and gold. So while
expressing my everlasting gratitude if the Stanford doctors fix my nagging
problem, two words will always be in the back of my mind:
"Go Bears!"
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