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Sports

Stanford Tailgaters Bring Timeless Bonds, Unwavering Hope

Dreams of a Cardinal championship win only scratch the surface of this die-hard community.

At Camp Fua, busily barbequing among football season-ticket holders outside Stanford Stadium, Viliami Haunga was trying to hurry along the pig.

"I should have done this earlier," he said Saturday, so as not to be cooking the traditional celebratory roast while his cousin, defensive lineman Sione Fua, played. Fua and cohorts held Sacramento State to negative rushing yardage during much of Sept. 4's 52-17 game, which featured four touchdown passes by Andrew Luck. Haunga heard rather than saw it as he manned the spit.

Cardinal fans hope to build on last year's success, when the team headlined by Heisman runner-up Toby Gerhart, now of the Minnesota Vikings, attended its first bowl game in nearly a decade.

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There's something out-of-time about a Stanford tailgate. Maybe it's the tranquil setting, in a grove of centenarian oak trees. Maybe it's the multi-generational attendance, with 6-year-olds dressed as Dollies, the Cardinal dance team, mixing it up with young alumni and great-grandparents.

Maybe it's that so many of the older tailgaters style themselves "Indians," after the mascot, thought derogatory to Native Americans, that Stanford cashiered almost 40 years ago.

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Stanford has been the Cardinal now for two-thirds of its history, from 1891 to 1929 and 1973 to 2010, minus a slice that ended in two Rose Bowls.

You'd never know it from the badging and logos at Jeff Cunningham '68, MBA '73's compound, marked by a large Prince Lightfoot flag.

"We call ourselves the Indians," said his wife, Yvonne, of Atherton. "That's just who we were." Nothing derogatory was ever meant, she said, insisting the mascot honored Indian courage. "We never could understand how a small group of people could get the university to capitulate."

Their sprawling, hospitable tailgate has taken place under the same oak tree for more than 30 years.

"We should carve our initials in it," Yvonne said.

"Never," smiled Jeff. "That would be politically incorrect."

Like most tailgaters, his philosophy seems to be of loyal moral and financial support to Stanford the ideal, often at discomfort to oneself, even if Stanford the institution falters. This Olympian view encompasses anything from the ancient mascot debate to this month's move to charge $15 for football parking.

"It is getting more and more difficult to tailgate," said Jim Thoren, a loyal Cardinal donor whose compound is approached by a red-carpet processional lit by tiki lamps and culminating in a fire pit. Season-ticket holders park in Lot 2 for free, but the privilege is not supposed to extend to the 30 or 40 others a tailgater might host.

"They tried to charge my beer supplier," Thoren groused. "If you want a keg you have to wheel the damn thing from El Camino." (Parking remains free in the Wilbur and Sand Hill lots, or anytime on weekends in downtown Palo Alto.) Thoren himself went to Washington; relatives attended Washington State, and Stanford fandom was something they could agree on.

Nor do tailgaters like the dissipation of the San Jose State-Stanford crosstown rivalry, which often brought 60,000 people to the Farm for a preseason game. This year, the Spartans chose instead to get spanked in Alabama, 48-3, for a reported $1 million.

"It was like Bay to Breakers," said Lynn Sweet, a longtime secretary to Stanford economics professor George Bach who has tailgated for years with the Cunninghams, likening it to another crosstown phenomenon, the San Francisco race. Lynn said her late husband, John, and his 1970 Oldsmobile were featured in a book, "Tailgate USA."

"It's a torn game for me, but I miss it," Maryellen Beukers said. She and her husband, Don, who live in Wasilla, Alaska and San Jose, devoutly follow Stanford and profess not to know the Palins. Both San Jose State grads, they were hooked in 1968 after watching USC's OJ Simpson play against Stanford.  The drama Maryellen relished peaked in 1981-83, when Cardinal quarterback John Elway played against his own father, Jack Elway, San Jose State's head coach.

"I would hate to be the mother," Beukers said.

For Beukers, Stanford embodies achievement. She admires Condoleezza Rice for mentoring student athletes and is proud that her grandson, a high school freshman who plays football, wants to play for Stanford.

"Because of the emphasis on academics. On academics," she said.

Eric Altman '03 and Michelle Heeseman '01 of Menlo Park, married Sept. 5, held their wedding rehearsal dinner at Saturday's tailgate.

"I was the drum major for the (Stanford) band," Altman said. "This is how we celebrate."

As for the team itself? Cardinal defense is, despite Saturday's win, again a question mark, but true believers don't sweat details.

"I've never stopped coming, even when we were 1-11," said Mark Ferguson, the former Stanford defensive lineman (with his twin brother, John) who played in the 1972 Rose Bowl victory over Michigan. "But I'm glad we're having some better times."

Jokes Thoren: "If you get here Thursday, you're pretty wrecked by Saturday. The game is almost an afterthought."

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