Tales from Eucalyptus Grove: Stanford reclaims The Axe

It was a cool, crisp, November afternoon. The Saturday before Thanksgiving. The day of the Big Game. Stanford vs. Cal. This time it was on The Farm after being in Berkeley the year prior.

I drove down Foothill Expressway with a can of Diet Coke in hand heading towards Eucalyptus Grove, a famous spot outside Stanford Stadium where media park, fans tailgate, and children throw the football. The smell of Eucalyptus mixed with dirt takes me back to a trip I made to the San Francisco Zoo when I was at Foothill College. My objective on that trip was to study chimpanzees and black-and-white colobus monkeys for my anthropology class. The colobus monkey in particular I found to be fascinating. According to the Zoo, they can leap for up to 50 feet as they spring off branches like trampolines, using their mantle hair and tails to act as a parachute. It’s truly amazing to watch them glide through the air like a defensive back soaring to make an interception.

As I crossed over into Palo Alto and was coming down El Camino, a bus full of cheering Berkeley students passed me. I had Tower of Power playing in my car. An endless of loop of “I Like Your Style.”  My favorite track from the T.O.P. album. Fortunately, I was able to find a parking space easily thanks to a parking attendant that moved his car. I got a front row space and would later get a front row seat to the dominance that the Cardinal would exert over the Golden Bears.

As I walked up the stairs into the stadium, I saw only a handful of fans in attendance. It looked like another empty tomb that has become all too familiar: Seats with cobwebs that look like they haven’t been sat in since the days of Toby Gerhart. And yet, it was early. And this was the Big Game. I was hopeful that this time it would be different.

Fortunately, a frenzy of nerds who don’t know the difference between a touchdown and a home run would soon pack The Red Zone in record attendance, cheering wildly for their Cardinal as if they’ve been following every game with bated breath. A mob of math loving free spirits from Berkeley, who know more about pi than passer rating would soon pack the stadium to cheer on their Golden Bears. The stage was setting up for the oldest rivalry game in the west.

Across the campus at Green Library, one student was grinding away, wondering if perhaps everyone had gone home for their holiday break. He had heard something about an axe and thought it must have been in reference to an axiom. There was a similar scene in Berkeley at Moffitt Library. A distraught student was in way over his head as his logic final approaches. If only they had been able to clear their minds by watching physical freaks from their respective schools ram into each other like a bear running into a tree.

 As I took my seat, those of us in the press box debated where the Saint Mary’s Gaels basketball team would finish if they played in the SEC and other topics not important to the game that we were about to watch. We were pounding down chili dogs and red velvet cookies. We were loving it in the moment, knowing we would pay for it the next day. With cans of Diet Coke stacked in front of me like it was essential for my survival, I was ready.

The Stanford Axe: A sacred, ridiculous, over-sized symbol of Bay Area football supremacy. Both schools treat it like a talisman that they can parade around like some sacred relic from years bygone. Touch it and you will pass all your final exams and midterms. Or so the legend says.

For four straight years it had been in the possession of the Golden Bears and they intended to keep it for a fifth: “I do not like Stanford. I’d say I hate Stanford.” Cal senior wide receiver Trond Grizzell said before the game. Well aware of the nine year winning streak that Stanford had in the past, Grizzell was eager to get a similar streak going for the Bears.

Stanford had their own motivation to play for: Frank Reich. A grizzled, veteran of football that looks like he’s been out at sea for years. A man who has stared the Kraken face-to-face and lived to tell the tale. A Big Game victory would immortalize him in Stanford lore. A man who would be talked about for generations to come by Cardinal faithful as they enjoy their wine and cheese.

The game itself was one of the ugliest displays of football I had ever seen. Cal fumbled balls like they were made out of butter while Stanford defenders scooped them up like candy, running into the end zone as Andrew Luck ran down the sideline with childlike exuberance. Stanford had a field goal blocked, missed another chip shot, and even had an equipment violation that kept a Cal drive alive, leading to the only touchdown for the Bears. It was the stuff of peewee football. Two programs that had nothing but pride on the line and in the process were disgracing this glorious sport with their comedy of errors. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

And yet, this was the Big Game. The Axe was all that mattered. Nobody cared if the game was pretty. This game transcends that. A team could play the ugliest of football, but if they win The Axe, they had bragging rights for a full year.

As the night wore on, it became increasingly obvious how the game would end. Stanford’s beast of a back Micah Ford ran over Cal like they owed him money. Stanford’s defense stifled Cal’s quarterback Jaron-Keawe Sagapolutele. Cal, seeing the writing on the wall withered away into the frosty November night as a dart from Stanford quarterback Elijah Brown to his high school teammate CJ Williams sealed the deal. The Axe was coming home as big heads of Tara VanDerveer and Christian McCaffrey bobbed in The Red Zone.

Members of The University of California Rally Committee and the Stanford Axe Committee began their bizarre ritual of staring into each other’s eyes. The students from Cal clinging to The Axe for a final moment. The students from Stanford, knowing that soon they would be the guardians of The Axe for the coming year.

Amid this ritual, a lumbering lineman from Stanford charged at the Cal students still holding the Axe like an angry goose. The frightened students stood frozen still as he barked for what he had clawed and battled for. But it was not needed. The clock had hit zero. The Axe belonged to the Cardinal: 31-10.

After the game ended, Stanford students rushed the field in a mad panic. A sea of red engulfed The Axe, which was being blanketed by Stanford players and students alike. The Stanford Tree danced around to the sound of its beloved band and the Stanford cheerleaders swayed in victory. Andrew Luck gave out hugs and Frank Reich, the veteran of the sea, had conquered his white whale.

Cal fans, once anticipating another rushing of the field, shuffled off into the night in somber defeat as they began the chants to fire Justin Wilcox, their veteran and now vanquished head coach who had brought them out of the wilderness of Big Game defeat only to lose The Axe one final time. His fate was sealed as news came the following day of his firing.

Oski, Cal’s lovable, quirky mascot was not able to dish out high fives and hugs to the Berkeley faithful. Chancellor Rich Lyons, who had “Cal” painted on his face like he was at a carnival, did not lead any chants of “This is Bear Territory”. Ron Rivera, Cal’s grizzled sailor in his own right, walked off the field in what looked like a letterman jacket from his glory days, clearly disturbed by the evening’s result.

As for me, I stood on the field and took photos, trying to soak it all up. The energy was palpable. The weight of four years without having the Axe was being lifted off the Cardinal’s back. Stanford was soaring. Cal was crumbling. It was an exact reversal of what the last four years had been.

After capturing the scene, I walked up the stairs and into the press room to await Stanford, who was still celebrating. Micah Ford was walking alongside me in the tunnel, both exhausted and elated after rushing for 150 yards and one touchdown. He had worn the Bears down in the second half, leaving their defense deflated and downtrodden.

After the press conference, I went back to the press box to post a few photos and recharge my phone. I rested for a bit, knowing I still had a job to do as it was now dark out: Write my recap and find my way out of Eucalyptus Grove.

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