A few days after Stanford's football team defeated Virginia Tech in the Orange Bowl last January, I ran into Howard Wolf, '80, president of the Stanford Alumni Association. Howard was at the game and had met many alumni who traveled long distances at significant expense to watch the Cardinal dismantle the Hokies. He was a good source on the subject at hand: What is it about a good football team that exerts such a pull on alums?
Howard barely paused when I posed the question, somewhat rhetorically. "We're all tribal," he said.
Yes, that's it exactly.
Why else would sophisticated, erudite people invest so much emotion in the outcome of a game played by a group of 20-year-olds? We are bonded by common experience, and when the attachment originates with our school, the effect is powerful. We want to swim in the warm water of association, to exult in that feeling that comes with being part of a successful "tribe." A sports team represents everyone in the group, and serves as an agent of togetherness. Doesn't matter what your politics are, or where you're from, or what your job is—everyone can stand shoulder to shoulder and cheer for the Cardinal.
And let's face it: Football trumps other sports in terms of attention and gravitas. Games are events, staged once a week in a carnival atmosphere involving tens of thousands of people and a heaping helping of hoopla. Football Saturdays share some characteristics with weekly services at your local place of worship—and for some folks, it's not a stretch to say that football is like religion. There are important rituals—heraldic music accompanies the team's arrival on the field, and everybody knows when to jump during All Right Now. And like religion, football derives some of its power from symbols: the uniforms, the colors, the creed. "We shall bow to no team" former coach Jim Harbaugh famously declared a few years ago, and then went out and beat mighty USC. If all of that weren't enough to summon the faithful, this season there is also a Chosen One.
NFL scouts say quarterback Andrew Luck is a once-in-a-generation talent. He is so good, they say, he would have been the No. 1 pick in the draft last year. So basically, Stanford has an NFL quarterback leading their team, who just happens to still be taking classes and hanging out at Tresidder.
Athletes are often showered with adulation that's unwarranted, of course. They aren't heroes when compared to doctors, teachers and others who get up every day and make people's lives better. Except that, in their own way, some athletes do that, too. People hunger for greatness, to be convinced that genius is possible, to have someone to root for. In Luck, they've found him.
It's unfair to burden a college student with that sort of expectation, but Luck seems up to the task. In an age of preening, "Look at me!" types, he is the sort of guy who would rather point the camera at his teammates, and does so at every opportunity. According to his coaches, he's gifted in all of the ways that matter, including how he treats the people around him. And his architecture professors say much the same thing.
That's why we are so proud of him. That, and the connection we feel with the other members of the tribe. We care, more than we usually want to admit, about what happens when those 20-year-olds take the football field on our behalf every Saturday. For those few hours, they are us and we are them.
Go Cardinal.
Kevin Cool is the former executive editor of Stanford.
