January 1, 2013. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Well, we’re three for three. Explanation later. For the first time in forty years we didn’t sit around in our pajamas and watch the Rose Parade on New Year’s morning. We left Mom to do that while we took off just before it started to make our way to Pasadena to watch the Rose Bowl in person. I can’t tell you what tickets cost to this thing. Literally. I choke violently every time I think about it. This meant we did get up early in order to bathe, eat, and get everything ready to go by 7:30. We figured that the quietest time on the freeways and around the Rose Bowl would be while the parade was going on from 8 to 10 o’clock. We were right. It was clear sailing all the way across L.A. from the west side, and the anticipated jam-up at the Bowl was non-existent. We cruised right in. We probably could have slept in a while longer but, as you see, I got a few winks after we parked. Tip: secure camera from spouse before dozing off. Although it has its faults, our new Prius V has an incredibly spacious back seat, with split reclining (goes a lot further than I had it in this pic).
We sat in the car and read most of the time while waiting for game time, but did wander about to take in the usual tailgating nonsense. Then we joined the mob-queue at the gates, enduring the exhortations of the Jesus bunch trying to mass convert the great unwashed. There were lots more than these two, some with bullhorns. I sometimes envy the evangelicals. It must be enormously comforting to be so confident that everyone who disagrees with you (a) is wrong and condemned to hell, and (b) should have to endure your ranting in public spaces. But, I digress.
Once in, we were treated to the usual massed-milling-about of the Incomparable LSJU “marching” Band. And, blow me down, they actually did get into some sort of formation; just don’t ask me what it was.
But, what about that dancing thing that vaguely resembles a “tree,” you say? Well, listen up, fans. Starting in 1891, when Stanford beat Cal in the first Big Game, as was only fitting, the local Bay Area scribes used one of Stanford’s colors to refer to the team as the Cardinal (“Cardinal Triumphs O’er Blue and Gold”). For reasons that remain obscure, the informal use of “Indian” as a team identifier gradually crept in until it was officially adopted in 1930. Over the years, the informal depiction of the Indian on sweatshirts, etc. became truly offensive, as shown here.
In 1972, in response to a petition by a group of Native American students, the Indian mascot and name were banished. General moniker confusion reigned, but the color cardinal was the designated “official” appellation. There was a move to reinstate the Indian as the school mascot in 1975. The debate was put to vote along with new suggestions demonstrating the eclectic range of student views about the school’s questionable founder: Robber Barons, Sequoias, Trees, Cardinals, Railroaders, Spikes, and Huns. In 1978, the griffin was proposed. None of the suggestions were accepted. Finally, in 1981, President Donald Kennedy, an otherwise wise and charming fellow and one of Loni’s favorite bio profs, ended the sturm und drang by proclaiming “Cardinal” henceforth to be the exclusive symbol: "While various other mascots have been suggested and then allowed to wither, the color has continued to serve us well, as it has for 90 years. It is a rich and vivid metaphor for the very pulse of life." Bosh. It’s stupid and we all know it. So what about that tree?
Officially, there is no Stanford mascot. There’s only the color. Unofficially? Ah, enter the Band. The "Tree," which underneath is a member of the Stanford Band, selected by the Band in fevered competition, is representative of El Palo Alto, the Redwood tree which is the logo of the city of Palo Alto, Stanford’s home. The tree supposedly still exists by the railroad bridge beside San Francisquito Creek – it is the site where early explorers first camped when settling the area. Every year, a new “Tree” student is chosen, and that student is responsible for designing and making his/her own version of the Tree, for better or worse. I think the four above are particularly dreadful, but that’s just me. What is undisputed is that the Tree is the coolest mascot in the country. Ignore those nattering national polls whose voters every year vote it the worst. Pedestrian, plebian, proles, all of them!
Oh, yeah, the game. Stanford and Wisconsin were pretty evenly matched, and it wasn’t pretty, but the Cardinal pulled it out with a 20-14 win (that’s the final on the scoreboard below, although the clock shows 20 minutes. And three for three? Well, in the “modern era,” which is, of course, defined by my lifespan, Stanford has won the Rose Bowl only three times, and each time we’ve been there: 1971, 1972, and 2013. I can cheerfully report that the 1971 ticket cost $8.00.
And the fans did, indeed, go wild!
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