Ouch.

I was out of town all day yesterday and got back late enough that I didn’t bother to check any sports scores. I had had some intimation of the rude information that awaited me in the San Jose Mercury News sports section (owing to an ill‐timed consolation call from the Chi Alpha leader at Berkeley).

So we lost Big Game. Again. And we lost Big Game big. Almost as badly as it has ever been lost (although outranked by our 1930 41–0 romp over Cal).

I think the proper attitude is conveyed in Mark Purdy’s column:

Oh, it could have gone worse for Stanford on a windy, blustery afternoon. But only if a tree had fallen on The Tree.

Cal’s 41–6 victory Saturday was so awful, Stanford fans spent the second half leaving in droves — in luxury cars, actually, but in drove‐like formation.

Heh. It’s a game we lost, but it’s only a game.

Of course, had we won I’d be singing an altogether different tune about the relative importance of squashing one’s rivals like bugs. But we didn’t win, and so I adopt the more rational attitude. 🙂

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