College application due dates are approaching, and so our house is all college discussion, all the time.
Jake has worked hard academically, and now he’s looking at some brainy colleges. For every school he explores, Matthew quickly gauges their worth based on their football strength. Other than UNC, Matt hasn’t been impressed with Jake’s picks.
As I made dinner, our daily college discussion turned to the schools no one on earth should be smart enough to go to, the schools only the freaky-smart attend. The schools which scoff at National Honor Society kids like Jake.
“Who even gets into MIT?” Jake asks me.
“Dude, I have no idea—”
“Does MIT have a football team?” interjects Matt.
” I don’t think so,” I say, “Usually the farther you go up on the brainy nerd scale, the less likely you play football. MIT doesn’t strike me as a footbally bunch.”
“Jake, you shouldn’t go there then,” Matt informs his brother. Jake agrees. It’s settled, then. He won’t be attending MIT because they don’t have a football team.
Cornell has made Jake’s short list, though, and Matt does not endorse Cornell, either.
“But Cornell’s a nerd school,” Matt argues, “and you want to go there.”
“Cornell has a football team,” I say, “they’re a little lower on the brainy nerd scale, so they play football.”
“Yeah, but they’re nerd football players,” says Matt, derisively.
Matt hunches over like a quarterback in a football huddle. For some reason he assumes the voice of Jon Stewart impersonating George Bush, and so Matt’s quarterback comes out evil, clueless, AND brainy.
“He he. It’s fourth down, see? And if we run this play there’s a 42 percent chance I’ll get sacked. He he. He. If I do, I will attempt to fall at a 30 degree angle and avoid injury. He he. We’re gonna need our pocket protectors.” He straightens up and looks at Jake, one eyebrow cocked. “They’re nerds, Jake. Nerds suck at football. You shouldn’t go there.”
“Ok, Matt. I’ll keep that in mind.”