Stanford University changed its sports nickname from the Indians to the Cardinal in the early 1970s. Respect isn't the same as awareness. Zamora recalls that when Begay arrived on campus in 1990, he dialed home to say, "I don't think they know what an Indian is here."
But they do know ambition at the 14,000-student California school. Often white-hot, change-the-world ambition, the kind that is humbling and lifting all at the same time. A stroll around campus revealed as much. There was Tiger Woods. There was Janet Evans. There was that 8-year-old prodigy. There was the next high-tech pioneer.
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| Notah Begay and Tiger Woods played one year together at Stanford, in 1995. The picture is taken from the team photo. |
In this rich intellectual stew, Mark Freeland and Notah Begay became best friends.
"Part of it was because we were so different," said Freeland, who describes himself as a normal white guy from a conservative, upper-middle class community outside St. Louis. "We grew up in different environments and we were able to learn from each other."
Teammates on the golf team, Begay encouraged Freeland to check any Type A urges at the first tee and play more from the heart. One of those kids who learned the game on a difficult, private course, Freeland brought to Stanford the notion that a score of 2 to 3 strokes under par wins. Begay, who if he got a 67 at Ladera had nothing special of a day, reminded him that the lowest score wins.
Begay, in turn, began incorporating a basic component of Freeland's more elite grooming: course management. He started thinking twice before pulling out a driver on that 325-yard hole, noticing that Freeland was programmed to get to the green more safely with a five-iron and sand wedge.
Begay was making his own distinct stew. As sophomores, he and teammate Casey Martin decided that they would putt better if they became switch-putters, based on the popular idea that a left-to-right putt is easier for a left-hander and a right-to-left putt is easier for a right-hander. Martin felt weird and gave up on it, but not Begay, who believed it would make him better in the long run.
Martin remained skeptical as recently as this summer, when he insisted his friend still does it just to be different. He explained to a reporter, "Stanford breeds a definite openness to ideas."
Begay and Martin led the Cardinal to the NCAA championship in 1994. In the second round of that tournament Begay shot a 62, a tournament record that remains today. So he got his glory at Stanford. He also got a degree, in economics. And some self-awareness, immersing himself in the affairs of the Native American cultural center on campus.
And he got a hero of a different complexion. "One of the biggest images that sticks in my head was when we first got to school and we were at our first road trip and he and I roomed together," Begay says of Martin, who has a medical condition that has gradually shriveled his leg. "We were winding down after a long day, and he was going to hop in the shower and he took his stocking off." Hearing about Martin's leg was one thing; seeing it another.
So come get your ribbon, Stanford, for reminding a student of how little he has to overcome.
And how much farther he has to go.
Begay and Martin, not Woods, built Stanford into a golf powerhouse. The team joke is that Woods made them worse when he arrived in 1995, because the Cardinal failed to repeat as champion that year. It wasn't the only fun they had at Woods' expense -- they made the celebrated freshman carry their bags, and tried to find out what fraternity parties Woods was attending that weekend just to watch his bad dancing.
Yet, "whenever anyone writes an article about Notah, he's called Tiger's teammate," Freeland says.
The question now is: Will it always be that way?
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Notah Begay