Every November, Stanford’s campus pulses with the energy and excitement that can only mean one thing — Big Game week. For one week, we’re all united in a single goal: defeating the University of California, Berkeley Football Team (Cal).

At the heart of it all is the Axe, the iconic trophy that brings out the best (and, occasionally, the worst) in our storied rivalry. This isn’t just another football game; it’s a deeply rooted tradition that’s stood the test of time, filled with iconic rituals like Gaieties, the freshman dorms’ Big Game banner making competition, the annual Leland Stanford Junior University’s Marching Band (LSJUMB) “bear-ial” ceremony, the red dyed fountains and the Birdcage horn blasting every hour leading up to kickoff.

I came to Stanford as a big sports fan drawn to its academic rigor and sports culture, so I couldn’t wait to dive into and be a part of the Big Game experience. But over the years, my Big Game journey has been filled with moments of heartbreak.

My freshman year, in the penultimate year of the David Shaw coaching era, Stanford’s team never gained momentum and was blown out at home 41-11. Sophomore year, the game looked promising until the 4th quarter, when Cal pulled away and ultimately won 27-20. Junior year was the start of the Troy Taylor era, and I was hopeful that this Big Game would be the one game that the football team would win at home that season. Unfortunately, the Cardinal came up short again, losing 27-15 and ended up being winless at Stanford Stadium for the 2023 season. I walked home afterward in silence, soaked and cold, and felt the weight of the loss and the lasting ache of yet another season without a victory. Stanford’s streak of losses to Cal has left this year’s senior class on the verge of becoming the first since the Class of 2006 to never win a Big Game or rush the field in celebration.  

Even though the Cardinal has come up short on the field, Big Game week is still one of my favorite and most cherished times on campus. As a member of Chi Omega, we celebrate with our Cal chapter, sharing a Big Game brunch that serves as a reminder that even our fiercest rivals can be our friends (or I should really say, sisters). Year after year, I find myself taking it all in: the sea of alumni, the students and tailgates filling parking lots, the cheering fans dressed in Cardinal red. There’s a unique sense of community that Big Game brings out, and it’s heartwarming to see the friendly rivalry extend beyond the field.

Despite these heart-wrenching experiences, there’s a part of me that still believes — and still hopes — that this year could be different. Though the Golden Bears will be coming in with a stronger record than the previous three years, I wholeheartedly believe that the senior class will dig deep and leave everything out on the football field to come away with a win. As a dedicated Stanford fan, and broadcaster at 90.1 FM KZSU, there’s nothing that would bring me more joy than to call my final Big Game from the broadcasting booth at California Memorial Stadium and witness a sea of red storm the field. And while these losses have been hard to swallow, they’ve only deepened my connection to Stanford, to the Big Game and to the memories I’ll carry long after I leave here.  

Big Game is a tradition that, win or lose, binds us together. It’s taught me resilience, the power of school pride and the beauty of showing up, even when the odds aren’t in our favor. I look forward to the day when this difficult chapter of Stanford football ends and future classes can experience the joy of a Big Game victory without the shadow of heartbreak. Because no Stanford class should have to endure the string of Big Game losses that my classmates and I have faced. Until then, I’ll be there every year, holding on to hope, knowing that someday, Stanford will reclaim the Axe.