Stanford Smarts

Palo Alto

Twenty-five minutes by taxi going south from San Francisco, Palo Alto is the home of Stanford University, the school where brainy types who wish to make lotsa moolah spend their formative years. There is something about Stanford smarts that infects even football players, American football, that is.

As some of you may know, American football is supposed to make one dumb. Players bump heads, and the harder one bumps one’s head, the more money one makes. The only player on the field who does not block or tackle – unless there’s an emergency – is the quarterback. He’s the one who leans over the centre, is given the ball by the man who is on all fours (there have been very few Greek quarterbacks for obvious reasons), and who then proceeds general-like to direct the play. Stanford is not a football factory like, say, Miami or Florida State, yet has managed to produce some great All-American and All-Pro quarterbacks. Frankie Albert, John Brody, and John Elway come to mind.

Quarterbacks are required to be smart, no ifs or buts about it, as they need to read defences in a jiffy, defences which have through the years become extremely sophisticated. A quarterback also has to memorise incredibly complicated plays and execute them while 400-lb behemoths are bearing down on him. Like many smart people, quarterbacks are paid more, and have longer careers. Like CEOs of large companies, they are cuddled, spoiled and more often than not are the coach’s pet. No team can consistently win without a good quarterback, and very few good quarterbacks go goofy after retirement. But back to Stanford.

The only friend I have who went to Stanford is an Englishman, Sebastian Taylor, a man who started with zilch and is now a very rich investor.