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Stanford University is an open-door kind of place, and a sunny Thursday afternoon in one of the dorms provided views of students conspicuously avoiding schoolwork. In one room a dude thrashed on Guitar Hero. Across the hallway a coed gossiped on the phone while eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. A little farther down the hall five smart, sarcastic, giggly women were watching homemade music videos on a pink laptop and creating the menu for a barbecue they planned to host that evening.
"Can we serve pigburgers?"
"I believe it's referred to as pork."
"What if we make little menus and call it a swineburger?"
Here Michelle Wie spoke up: "Let's just name it the H1N1 Burger."
After the laughter subsided one of Wie's friends asked her, "What, no Spamburger?"
"I love Spam!" Wie said, sounding a little hurt. She wasn't joking — this was her room, and it was stocked with cans of the mystery meat, including, atop the fridge, the unholy coupling of Spam and macaroni and cheese, all in one tin can.
"She cooks Spam every morning," said Wie's roommate, Chiara Essig.
"Actually, she was making bacon yesterday, and you could smell it up and down the hall," said Tyler Mabry, an offensive lineman on the football team who had just wandered into the conversation.
Despite her culinary tastes, Wie's room is a popular gathering spot for a large, eclectic group of friends. The tiny two-bedroom unit boasts charming, do-it-yourself decor. The centerpiece is a homemade tiki bar held together with duct tape, its creation inspired by an instructional clip Wie saw on YouTube. The walls are adorned with artwork Wie has created using watercolors, spray paint, Sharpies and just about anything else she can get her hands on. Conspicuously absent is any evidence that Wie, 20, is a well-compensated professional golfer; in every way possible she comes across as a normal college kid, from her wardrobe (short-shorts, sweet old school sneakers painted gold) to her nail polish (black) to her vocabulary. (Legit and badass appear to be her favorite words.)
The barbecue plans complete — beef burgers wound up being served — Wie's friends began wandering off to their various commitments, which included class, hot yoga and practice (football, lacrosse). They parted with hugs and a singsong farewell of I love you/I love you, too. (The hulking Mabry only got the hug.) As Wie cruised across campus to the gym she bumped into a half-dozen other pals along the way, instantly falling into rapid-fire conversations about everything but golf.
"I kind of have two different lives," Wie said later, curled up on a chair in her deserted dorm room, munching on an apple and vigilantly monitoring the flurry of incoming calls, texts and e-mails on her iPhone. "I love golf, but it's not the only thing in my life."
Says one of Wie's closest Stanford friends, Casandra Espinoza, "To be honest, I completely forget she's a pro golfer. Then we'll be out to dinner in Palo Alto, and when people come up to ask for an autograph, it's always jarring. It's a reminder she has this global following, even though she's just Michelle to us."
Wie is in her third year at Stanford. She is a full-time student during the fall and winter quarters, from late September to mid-March; in the spring she takes a leave of absence to allow for more tournament golf. Wie is a sophomore academically but seems determined to catch up, as she is planning to take 20 units for the upcoming winter quarter toward her communications degree. Wie carries a 3.4 GPA, and there is zero doubt she will graduate within the next couple of years. "There are a lot of scholars in my family — it's very intimidating," she says, noting a Master's and two Ph.D.'s among her father and his siblings. "I'm definitely not going to be the only one in the family without a college degree. I also think it's an important message to send to kids, that you can be a dedicated athlete but also be serious about your education."
