American culture glorifies individual achievement and competition, yet it has been proven time and again that people working together achieve better results than those of any individual. Governments and businesses spend thousands of staff hours and millions of dollars trying to convince their employees to value teamwork. It is a lesson I learned in 10 minutes on a clear autumn day in 1953.
I was a freshman, assigned to live in Encina Hall. The old sandstone building housed almost 500 other 18- and 19-year-old freshmen, most away from home for the first time and concerned about fitting in with many strangers. The four-story dormitory had two wings, housing 60 students each. We identified ourselves by our floor and wing—I was in Two East.
About five weeks after we arrived, Stanford played heavily favored UCLA in football. The huge 85,000-seat stadium seemed almost full, and by the middle of the third quarter the game was going as predicted, with UCLA holding a 20-7 lead. Then Stanford changed its offense to a short passing game and its defense stiffened. The score became 20-14 and then, in the last thrilling quarter, Stanford won 21-20.
The jubilant crowd ran onto the field and tore down the wooden goal posts, then jumped on them to create souvenirs of a manageable size. I was one of about 40 people all pulling in the melee to grab a 6-foot section. After a moment, a fellow stepped back and pointed toward the south end of the stadium, crying out, "Two East." Five of us heeded his cue. Chanting "Two East, Two East," we pulled the post in the direction he pointed. Within moments, the 35 other people had melted away.
Encina Hall hasn't been used as a dorm for decades. The old stadium has been replaced. But as I return for the 50th reunion of my graduating class, I remember how we marched out that afternoon with a 6-foot trophy over our shoulders—proof that a handful of people with a common purpose can accomplish things that cannot be done by larger forces pulling for themselves.
— MIKE SERLIN, '57
