I was never particularly attached to Family Ties.
I watched it, of course. Michael J. Fox was entertaining, the Keaton family had its moments, and I appreciated the occasional lesson about responsibility, relationships, and growing up.
But I can't say it was one of my favorite shows.
There was, however, one episode that stayed with me.
And more than forty years later, I still have mixed feelings about how it ended.
The episode was called "Go Tigers," and it aired January 12, 1984, during the show's second season.
Alex P. Keaton, played by Michael J. Fox, has an important admissions interview at Princeton University.
Princeton!
The school he's been dreaming about.
He's worked hard, earned excellent grades, and built the sort of academic record that makes him a competitive applicant.
And now he's finally getting an opportunity to impress someone who could influence whether he's admitted.
Unfortunately, his younger sister Mallory, played by Justine Bateman, accompanies him because her boyfriend Jeff attends Princeton.
She wants to surprise him.
Instead, she discovers him kissing another girl.
And she's devastated.
So devastated, in fact, that she interrupts Alex's interview and insists that they go home.
Alex initially tries to convince her to wait.
He tries to salvage the interview.
He even asks the dean whether they can reschedule.
But when the dean refuses, Alex makes a decision.
He leaves.
He gives up the interview to take care of his heartbroken sister.
And here's the part that has always bothered me.
Alex doesn't get rewarded with an acceptance to Princeton for doing the right thing.
He doesn't receive a special letter explaining that the admissions committee was so impressed by his family loyalty that they decided to offer him a place.
There's no miraculous happy ending.
In the series that follows, he doesn't attend Princeton.
He attends Leland University instead.
Now, I understand that television doesn't have to reward every good deed.
And perhaps that's exactly why this episode has stayed with me.
Because sometimes life isn't fair.
Sometimes you make the right decision and still lose something important.
But I also believe that when someone you love genuinely needs you, there are moments when you have to decide what matters most.
And in this episode, Alex Keaton demonstrated something far more impressive than his academic achievements: he was willing to put his sister's needs ahead of his own ambitions when it mattered.
That's the lesson I want to examine.
Because family should mean something.
And being able to count on one another shouldn't be just a nice sentiment we express during the holidays.
Princeton Wasn't Just Another College to Alex Keaton
To appreciate Alex's decision, we need to understand how much Princeton meant to him.
Alex wasn't the kind of teenager who drifted through high school with no particular plans for the future.
Quite the opposite.
He was ambitious.
Extremely ambitious.
He loved economics, politics, business, and practically anything involving success.
He read financial publications that most teenagers wouldn't have touched unless they were looking for pictures.
He had strong opinions about capitalism.
And he seemed to approach life as though every decision should bring him closer to a successful career.
Sometimes he was arrogant.
Sometimes he was pretentious.
And sometimes he was so obsessed with achievement that he forgot there were actual human beings living in the same house.
But I admired his determination.
He had goals.
He worked toward them.
And he didn't apologize for wanting a successful future.
In this episode, Alex proudly tells the Princeton dean that his grade-point average is 3.9874.
Not merely 3.98.
Not approximately 4.0.
Three point nine eight seven four.
Because naturally, Alex Keaton would want every decimal point properly accounted for.
He also reports scoring in the top three percent nationally on the SAT and describes his extracurricular accomplishments.
He's done the work.
He's prepared.
And he genuinely wants to attend this university.
So when he arranges an interview with Dean Memminger, he isn't treating it as a casual appointment.
It's a significant opportunity.
Perhaps one of the most important opportunities of his young life.
That's what makes his eventual sacrifice meaningful. He wasn't giving up something trivial. He was risking a future he'd spent years trying to build.
And I think we should give him credit for that.
Mallory Promised She Wouldn't Interfere
When Mallory asks to accompany Alex to Princeton, he isn't enthusiastic.
And I can't blame him.
He knows his sister.
He knows how distracting she can be.
And he knows that the weekend is important.
Mallory, meanwhile, is thinking about Jeff.
She's excited about seeing him.
She's looking forward to surprising him.
And she's imagining what a wonderful visit they're going to have.
Alex makes it clear that he has an interview to prepare for.
He wants quiet.
He wants to concentrate.
And he doesn't want Mallory distracting him.
Mallory promises she won't.
Of course, anyone familiar with television sitcoms knows that when one character promises not to interfere with another character's important plans, trouble is probably already on its way.
Still, I think Alex was reasonable to establish expectations.
This wasn't supposed to be Mallory's romantic vacation.
She was accompanying him on a trip he had arranged for a serious academic purpose.
And he had every right to expect her to respect that.
Now, I don't believe family members should be so rigid that they're unwilling to accommodate each other.
There's nothing wrong with letting Mallory visit Jeff while Alex attends his interview.
But she needed to recognize that her brother had responsibilities.
Being family doesn't mean another person's important commitments automatically become less important than whatever you happen to want at the moment.
And that distinction becomes especially relevant later.
Because Mallory's situation eventually becomes a genuine emotional crisis.
But at the beginning, she was simply expecting Alex to accommodate her personal plans.
Those are two different circumstances.
Jeff Hadn't Been Entirely Honest With Mallory
When Mallory arrives at Jeff's dormitory, she expects a happy reunion.
Instead, she finds him kissing another young woman named Sandy.
Naturally, she's shocked.
And hurt.
But here's a detail I think deserves attention.
Jeff and Mallory had agreed that they could see other people.
That's established in the episode.
So technically, Jeff wasn't necessarily violating an agreement of exclusivity.
And I don't think it's fair to accuse someone of breaking a commitment that both people had already agreed didn't exist.
But that doesn't mean Jeff handled the situation particularly well.
He hadn't told Mallory about Sandy.
In fact, he admits he intended to tell her in person the next time he returned home.
I understand why Mallory was upset.
There's a difference between theoretically agreeing that two people can date others and discovering that the person you still love has begun developing a relationship with someone else.
Emotionally, those can be very different experiences.
Mallory may have agreed to an open arrangement without fully accepting what it would mean.
And Jeff may have believed he was entitled to pursue another relationship while overlooking how much his silence could hurt her.
I think both young people could have communicated better.
But I wouldn't dismiss Mallory's pain simply because Jeff had a technical defense.
A person can be within the rules of a relationship and still behave without much consideration for the other person's feelings.
And sometimes heartbreak arrives when we discover that an arrangement we thought we could accept is much more painful than we'd imagined.
That's what happens to Mallory.
She's young.
She's in love.
And suddenly she's facing the possibility that her relationship with Jeff isn't what she believed it was.
She wants to go home.
Immediately.
And the only person she has with her is Alex.
Mallory Walks Into the Most Important Interview of Alex's Life
Now comes the scene that makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
Alex is beginning his interview with Dean Memminger.
He's trying desperately to present himself as the ideal Princeton student.
He's prepared to discuss his academic achievements, his ambitions, and his admiration for the university.
And then Mallory appears.
In tears.
She can't even explain what happened clearly.
Alex initially thinks she's saying Jeff was kissing a desk.
A desk!
The poor boy is trying to convince a prestigious university to admit him, and his sister has apparently discovered her boyfriend involved in an inappropriate relationship with office furniture.
Eventually, Alex understands that Jeff was kissing another girl.
And Mallory wants to leave.
Right now.
Now, my initial sympathy is with Alex.
Of course it is.
Mallory knows why he's there.
She knows how much the interview matters.
And she's interrupting something that could influence his future.
I don't think being heartbroken automatically entitles someone to disregard everyone else's responsibilities.
And Alex does try to find a compromise.
He wants Mallory to wait while he finishes.
He even attempts to persuade Jeff to take her to dinner and talk things through.
He's practically offering the man money to keep his sister occupied.
Anything to rescue the interview.
But Mallory is too upset.
She doesn't want to talk to Jeff.
She doesn't want to stay on campus.
She wants her brother.
And she wants to go home.
The situation keeps deteriorating.
The dean grows increasingly irritated.
And Alex is losing control of the opportunity he's spent so much time preparing for.
This is where the episode stops being simply a comedy about a disruptive younger sister and becomes a story about competing responsibilities.
Alex has an obligation to himself.
But he also has a sister standing in front of him who is genuinely distressed.
What should he do?
I Don't Think Mallory Was Right to Disrupt His Interview
Before we congratulate Alex, I think we need to acknowledge something.
Mallory's behavior was inconsiderate.
I understand that she was heartbroken.
I understand that seeing Jeff with someone else was upsetting.
And I certainly wouldn't expect her to sit happily through a romantic weekend after discovering what was happening.
But Alex didn't create her relationship problem.
He hadn't lied to her.
He hadn't betrayed her.
And he shouldn't automatically have been expected to sacrifice his interview because she wanted to leave immediately.
If I'd been speaking to Mallory, I'd have encouraged her to give Alex a little time.
Find somewhere safe to sit.
Take a moment to collect herself.
Let her brother complete the interview.
Then they could discuss what happened and decide whether to return home.
That would have been the more considerate arrangement.
And perhaps Mallory would have been able to do it under different circumstances.
But the episode doesn't give us that outcome.
Instead, she's so upset that she becomes overwhelmed.
She calls Alex during the interview.
Then she starts leaving.
And Alex sees her wandering across campus.
Now he has a different problem.
He isn't simply being asked to abandon his plans because his sister is impatient.
He's watching someone he loves become so distressed that she's barely thinking clearly.
And although I still think Mallory should have tried harder to respect his commitments, I can understand why Alex felt he couldn't simply ignore her.
Someone's distress doesn't automatically make every demand reasonable. But sometimes their immediate need for support is real, even when the way they express it is unfair.
That's the distinction I think Alex eventually recognized.
The Dean Refused to Reschedule—and That's What Makes This Hurt
At one point, Alex asks Dean Memminger whether they can reschedule the interview.
Perhaps later that day.
Perhaps the following day.
He's not demanding special treatment.
He's trying to find a way to meet both responsibilities.
And the dean refuses.
There will be no rescheduling.
Now, I have mixed feelings about that.
I understand that universities have admissions procedures.
Interviewers have schedules.
And applicants are expected to behave professionally.
The dean has already endured repeated interruptions.
From his perspective, this interview has become a disaster.
I can't pretend Alex has made a wonderful impression.
But I also think the dean could have exercised a little more understanding.
Here is an exceptionally qualified young man with a strong academic record.
He's arrived prepared.
He's enthusiastic about the university.
And he's dealing with an unexpected family situation.
Would it really have been so terrible to allow him another opportunity?
Especially after Alex explains what happened?
I know admissions offices can't accommodate every personal problem.
And I don't believe Alex deserved automatic acceptance simply because his sister was upset.
But an interview is supposed to help an institution understand the applicant.
And I can't help thinking that the dean was witnessing something important about Alex's character.
Grades and test scores can demonstrate academic ability. How a person responds when someone genuinely needs help can reveal something about his values.
Wouldn't that also be worth considering?
I think so.
Unfortunately, Dean Memminger doesn't offer Alex another appointment.
And suddenly the decision becomes much more serious.
Alex can stay and attempt to finish the interview.
Or he can leave with Mallory.
But he can't do both.
Alex Chose His Sister Without Knowing Whether It Would Cost Him Princeton
This is the moment that makes the episode memorable.
Alex sees Mallory outside.
She's devastated.
She's leaving.
And she needs him.
He looks at the dean.
He looks toward his sister.
And he makes his decision.
He tells Dean Memminger that he has to leave because his sister is upset and needs her brother.
He hopes his academic record will be enough.
But he doesn't know.
He has no guarantee.
No special arrangement.
And no assurance that his sacrifice will be rewarded.
He simply leaves.
Now, that's what impresses me.
Not because I think every family problem should automatically take priority over someone's education or career.
I don't.
But because Alex recognizes that this particular moment requires a decision.
And for once, his own ambition doesn't determine the answer.
Remember, this is Alex P. Keaton.
The boy who loves money, prestige, achievement, and success.
The boy who treats future career opportunities as though they're sacred obligations.
The boy who normally thinks about everything in terms of where it will take him professionally.
And suddenly, when he sees his sister's distress, something changes.
He discovers that there's something he cares about more than Princeton.
Not necessarily forever.
Not in every circumstance.
But in that moment.
Alex didn't stop wanting Princeton. He simply decided that his sister mattered more than completing the interview right then.
And I think that's why his choice carries so much weight.
Sacrifice only means something when the person making it is giving up something he genuinely values.
The Train Ride Home Is the Real Heart of the Episode
After everything that happens at Princeton, Alex and Mallory take the train home.
And this is the scene I remember most fondly.
Mallory is heartbroken.
She's embarrassed.
And she's beginning to recognize what her distress may have cost her brother.
She admits that she's behaved selfishly.
She understands that Alex's interview was important.
And she worries that she may have damaged his chances of being admitted to the school he loves.
Now, I appreciate that.
Because I don't believe Alex's kindness should erase Mallory's responsibility to consider his feelings.
She didn't deliberately set out to destroy his plans.
But her behavior affected him.
And she knows it.
That's what makes the scene more meaningful.
Mallory isn't simply expecting Alex to sacrifice everything for her without acknowledging the consequences.
She recognizes what happened.
And she's grateful.
Meanwhile, Alex does something rather extraordinary.
He comforts her.
He reminds her that she's a special person.
That she has a good heart.
That she's funny.
That she's attractive.
And that she's smarter than he ordinarily gives her credit for.
Coming from Alex, that's practically a royal proclamation.
This is a brother who usually takes every available opportunity to tease his sister about her intelligence.
And now he's trying to rebuild her confidence.
Not because he's suddenly become a different person.
But because he recognizes that she's hurting.
Of course, he still manages to joke that he'll be angry with her later, after she feels better.
That's Alex.
And I appreciate that the writers allowed him to remain Alex.
He didn't need to become a saint to demonstrate kindness.
Sometimes love looks like setting aside your usual teasing long enough to remind someone that one painful experience hasn't diminished her worth.
It reminds me of the touching moment when Wayne Arnold showed up for his friend Wart on The Wonder Years. Wayne couldn't erase what his friend was going through, just as Alex couldn't undo Mallory's heartbreak. But both understood that sometimes the most valuable thing you can offer another person is the reassurance that he or she isn't facing a difficult moment alone.
And that's precisely what Mallory needed to hear.
Alex Discovered Something About Himself That He Didn't Expect
There's another part of the train conversation that I think is particularly important.
Mallory asks Alex why he isn't angrier.
She knows how much Princeton meant to him.
She knows she interfered.
And she can't understand why he seems more concerned about comforting her than blaming her.
Alex admits that he doesn't entirely understand it himself.
He'd always believed he knew what he wanted.
He understood his ambitions.
He had plans.
He expected to follow them.
But when he saw Mallory wandering across campus, devastated by what had happened, those plans temporarily lost their importance.
Something else mattered more.
And I think that's a wonderful moment of self-discovery.
Because Alex didn't merely learn something about Mallory.
He learned something about himself.
He discovered that beneath all his talk about financial success, prestige, and achievement, he had values that mattered more than his ambitions.
He loved his sister.
And he was capable of putting her needs first.
I think that's particularly meaningful for a young man whose identity was so closely tied to achievement.
Sometimes we become so convinced that our goals define who we are that we forget to consider what we would do if those goals came into conflict with something else we value.
Alex learned that he wasn't quite the person he'd always imagined himself to be.
And for once, that was a pleasant discovery.
He may have lost an opportunity to impress Princeton, but he gained a clearer understanding of the kind of brother—and the kind of man—he wanted to be.
Now, I know that doesn't replace an admissions letter.
And I wouldn't pretend it does.
But I think it's an important part of the story.
I Still Think Princeton Should Have Given Him Another Chance
Here's where I remain annoyed.
Alex had an extraordinary academic record.
He'd spent years preparing himself for the kind of education he wanted.
And when a difficult family situation interrupted his interview, he chose to help his sister.
Would it really have ruined the story if Princeton had recognized his character and eventually admitted him?
I don't think so.
Frankly, part of me would have loved that ending.
Imagine the admissions committee reviewing his application.
They see his grades.
His test scores.
His extracurricular accomplishments.
And a note from Dean Memminger explaining that Alex left his interview because his younger sister was in distress.
Then someone says, "Well, this young man certainly appears to understand responsibility."
And they offer him admission.
Wouldn't that have been satisfying?
Absolutely.
But would it have taught the same lesson?
Probably not.
Because then the story would have suggested that doing something kind is worthwhile because you'll eventually be rewarded.
Alex sacrifices Princeton.
The university recognizes his sacrifice.
He gets accepted.
Everybody's happy.
And the audience goes home reassured that good deeds always produce good outcomes.
Except they don't.
And perhaps that's why the actual storyline is more honest.
Sometimes you make the morally right decision and the world doesn't reimburse you for what it cost.
I wrestled with a similar question in the Leave It to Beaver episode where Ward secretly bought Beaver a reward for returning a lost wallet. Beaver's honesty mattered whether the grateful stranger sent a present or not. And Alex's sacrifice mattered whether Princeton rewarded him or not. Doing the right thing shouldn't depend on what we expect to receive in return.
That's an uncomfortable lesson.
But it's one worth teaching.
Especially to children who may grow up believing that good behavior always guarantees a good result.
It doesn't.
And that doesn't mean good behavior is foolish.
Alex Didn't Get Princeton, but His Life Wasn't Ruined
I also want to put the outcome into perspective.
Alex doesn't attend Princeton.
He eventually goes to the fictional Leland University, where he receives a scholarship and continues his academic and professional development.
His life doesn't end.
His intelligence doesn't disappear.
And his future isn't destroyed because one opportunity didn't work out.
That's important.
Because while I sympathize with his disappointment, I don't want to suggest that failing to attend a particular university makes someone unsuccessful.
It doesn't.
Princeton is an excellent institution.
But it isn't the only place where a capable student can receive an education or build a meaningful future.
And Alex is certainly capable.
He continues pursuing his ambitions.
He continues learning.
And he continues demonstrating that he's a remarkably determined young man.
Still, I think we should resist the temptation to minimize what he lost simply because things eventually worked out.
Alex wanted Princeton.
He worked for Princeton.
And he didn't get Princeton.
That mattered to him.
A person's disappointment doesn't become meaningless simply because another opportunity eventually appears.
Sometimes we need to acknowledge that something was genuinely lost.
Even when the person goes on to have a good life.
And I think the episode deserves credit for allowing that reality to stand.
But Family Loyalty Shouldn't Mean One Person Always Sacrifices
Now, there's something I want to be very clear about.
I believe family should be able to count on one another.
Absolutely.
But I don't believe that means one family member should automatically be expected to abandon every personal goal whenever someone else becomes upset.
That isn't loyalty.
That's an unhealthy imbalance.
That's also the distinction I explored in the Mom episode where Bonnie struggled with how much help she owed her brother Ray. Loving a sibling doesn't mean becoming responsible for every problem in that person's life. But establishing reasonable boundaries shouldn't mean withholding every form of compassion, either. The challenge is recognizing when help is genuinely needed and what we can reasonably offer.
Imagine if Mallory repeatedly demanded that Alex interrupt important commitments because something in her personal life had gone wrong.
Imagine if he were always expected to cancel plans, neglect his work, or sacrifice opportunities while nobody took his responsibilities seriously.
I wouldn't defend that.
Being family doesn't mean other people's lives are less important than yours.
And it doesn't mean a person's generosity should be treated as an unlimited resource.
That's why I appreciate Mallory's remorse on the train.
She recognizes that Alex gave up something valuable.
And that recognition matters.
Because a family relationship should involve consideration flowing in both directions.
If someone repeatedly sacrifices for you, the proper response isn't to expect more sacrifice. It's to recognize the kindness and consider how you can support that person, too.
I'd want Mallory to remember what Alex did.
Not as a lifelong debt she could never repay.
But as an example of the kind of loyalty she should offer him when he genuinely needs her.
That's how healthy family relationships work.
We don't keep a running financial statement of every favor.
But we do recognize that everyone has needs, responsibilities, and feelings worth respecting.
And if we expect someone to be there for us, we should be willing to be there for that person as well.
What Jewish Wisdom Teaches Me About Family and Self-Sacrifice
There's a teaching from Hillel in Pirkei Avot 1:14 that I think fits this episode beautifully.
It asks us to consider two seemingly competing responsibilities.
Our responsibility to ourselves.
And our responsibility to others.
The familiar teaching begins by asking who will look after me if I don't look after myself.
But it then asks what I am if I care only about myself.
I find that distinction enormously important.
Because I don't believe being a decent person means abandoning every personal ambition.
We're responsible for our own lives.
Our education.
Our work.
Our health.
Our obligations.
And our future.
Alex was right to take Princeton seriously.
He was right to prepare for the interview.
And he was right to recognize the importance of the opportunity.
But if all he cared about was his own advancement, what kind of person would he become?
Someone who could achieve extraordinary professional success while remaining indifferent to the people who loved him?
I don't find that particularly admirable.
I think Hillel's teaching captures the balance beautifully.
We have a responsibility to build our own lives, but we also have a responsibility not to become so absorbed in those lives that we forget other people need us.
There's another verse in Proverbs 17:17 that I think belongs in this discussion.
It speaks about a friend whose love endures and a brother whose relationship is especially meaningful in times of adversity.
I love that idea.
Because family loyalty isn't supposed to exist only when everyone is happy, healthy, and getting along.
The real test often comes when things are difficult.
When someone is frightened.
When someone is grieving.
When someone has been rejected.
Or when someone feels completely alone.
That's when being able to depend on another person matters most.
But Jewish wisdom doesn't require us to confuse compassion with self-destruction.
The obligation to care for others exists alongside the obligation to take responsibility for ourselves.
And I think that's an essential distinction.
Alex wasn't obligated to give up every ambition for Mallory.
But in this particular moment, he recognized that she needed him.
He chose to respond.
And he did so without demanding a reward.
To me, that's a beautiful example of being a mensch.
Not because he made the most advantageous decision.
But because he chose to be the kind of person his sister could count on, even when doing so came at a personal cost.
I Wouldn't Want Alex to Believe His Sacrifice Was Wasted
Here's something I'd want Alex to understand afterward.
He didn't make a foolish decision simply because Princeton didn't accept him.
I think people sometimes evaluate moral choices according to the results.
If everything works out, the decision must have been right.
If something goes wrong, the decision must have been a mistake.
But life isn't that simple.
You can make a carefully considered decision and still experience an unfortunate outcome.
You can behave honorably and still lose an opportunity.
And you can act selfishly and sometimes receive exactly what you wanted.
That's one of the frustrating realities of being alive.
Goodness isn't a guarantee of success.
And wrongdoing doesn't always result in immediate consequences.
I wouldn't want Alex to look back on that weekend and conclude that he should have ignored Mallory because he didn't get Princeton.
Nor would I want him to believe that every future family problem required the same sacrifice.
I'd want him to evaluate the situation fairly.
His sister was genuinely distressed.
He tried to find another solution.
The dean refused to reschedule.
And Alex ultimately made the choice he believed was right.
That's something he could respect about himself.
Even if he regretted losing the opportunity.
Regretting the cost of a decision doesn't necessarily mean regretting the values that led you to make it.
I think that's an important distinction.
And one that young people especially deserve to understand.
Sometimes Family Is the Only Place You Should Be Able to Count On
This is the part of the episode that matters most to me.
I believe family should represent something dependable.
Not perfection.
Not constant agreement.
And certainly not an arrangement in which everyone is obligated to tolerate mistreatment simply because they're related.
But there should be a fundamental willingness to care about one another.
That's one reason I found Curt Willard's decision to leave his son behind on The Waltons so troubling. Curt had genuine struggles of his own, but his child still needed a father. Alex faced a very different situation, yet he demonstrated something Curt failed to provide: the willingness to put a loved one's needs ahead of his own immediate wishes.
If your brother is frightened, you should want to help.
If your sister has been hurt, you should care.
If a parent is struggling, you should at least consider what support is reasonable and possible.
And if someone you love is facing a serious problem, you shouldn't automatically respond by explaining how inconvenient the situation is for you.
Now, family members aren't always capable of providing the help someone needs.
Sometimes they have their own limitations.
Sometimes professional assistance is necessary.
And sometimes a family relationship has become so harmful that maintaining distance is the responsible choice.
I don't believe blood relationships create unlimited obligations.
But in a reasonably loving family, I do believe there should be a sense that people matter to one another beyond what they can provide.
That's what I appreciate about Alex.
He spends much of his time teasing Mallory.
He frequently acts as though she's intellectually inferior.
And he can be unbelievably self-important.
But when he sees her genuinely hurting, he remembers she's his sister.
And suddenly her pain matters more than his usual ambition.
I think that's beautiful.
Because sometimes the person who can comfort you most effectively isn't someone who always says the right thing.
It's someone who knows you well enough to recognize when you truly need help.
Someone who may tease you mercilessly on an ordinary day but won't abandon you on your worst one.
Family loyalty isn't proved by how often we announce that we love one another. It's proved by whether that love means something when showing it becomes inconvenient.
And Alex demonstrated that.
Would I Have Made the Same Decision?
I have to admit, I don't know whether I would have left the interview quite as quickly.
I think I would have tried everything possible to persuade Mallory to wait a little longer.
I'd have explained that the interview couldn't be repeated.
I'd have asked her to sit somewhere safe while I finished.
And I'd have tried to reassure her that we'd leave as soon as I was done.
I don't believe a painful breakup automatically requires abandoning a major educational opportunity.
But that's the benefit of watching the situation from the comfort of our living rooms.
We have time to analyze everything.
We can imagine better solutions.
And we aren't the person standing in Dean Memminger's office, watching our younger sister wander away in tears.
Alex had to decide in the moment.
And the more I think about the scene, the more I respect what he chose.
He knew how much Princeton meant to him.
He knew what he was risking.
And he didn't pretend the sacrifice was insignificant.
He simply recognized that his sister needed him more urgently at that particular moment.
I wouldn't want anyone to interpret his choice as a rule that family always comes before education, employment, or personal well-being.
Real life requires judgment.
But I do think he demonstrated something important.
A good family member recognizes the difference between an ordinary inconvenience and a moment when someone genuinely needs to know they're not alone.
And sometimes the right thing is to show up.
Even when you wish the circumstances were different.
My Verdict: Alex Deserved Princeton, but His Choice Was Worth Making Even Without It
I still wish Princeton had accepted Alex.
I really do.
There's something frustrating about seeing a young man work so hard, demonstrate genuine kindness, and then lose an opportunity he desperately wanted.
Part of me wanted the dean to recognize what he'd witnessed.
To understand that Alex wasn't simply an arrogant teenager bragging about his achievements.
He was also a young man capable of compassion and sacrifice.
And wouldn't that have made him a valuable addition to the university?
I think so.
But perhaps giving Alex the acceptance letter would have weakened the lesson.
Because then we could have comforted ourselves with the idea that doing the right thing always pays off.
And it doesn't.
Sometimes life is unfair.
Sometimes the people who behave generously aren't rewarded.
And sometimes you make a decision that costs you something you'll never completely recover.
That doesn't automatically make the decision wrong.
I also appreciate that Mallory recognized what her brother had done.
She wasn't indifferent to his sacrifice.
She understood that she'd interfered with something important.
And she felt badly about it.
That's what makes the relationship touching.
Alex put aside his ambitions to comfort Mallory.
And Mallory recognized that his ambitions mattered, too.
For all their teasing and bickering, they genuinely cared about one another.
At fifty-one, I've become much less interested in people who make grand declarations about family loyalty and much more interested in people who demonstrate it.
The person who shows up.
The person who listens when you're hurting.
The person who remembers that your problems matter, even when they don't directly affect him.
And the person who can recognize when somebody else's need deserves a little more attention than his own convenience.
Those are the people worth having in your life.
Not because they should be expected to sacrifice everything.
But because genuine care involves recognizing that we're not the only people in the world with needs that matter.
And that's what Alex learned.
He discovered that his impressive academic record wasn't the only thing that defined him.
He was a brother.
A caring brother.
And when it mattered, he behaved like one.
Alex didn't receive the Princeton acceptance he wanted. But he gave Mallory something no university could have offered her that afternoon: the reassurance that her brother would be there when she needed him.
And although I still think he deserved a second interview, I appreciate that the writers didn't turn his sacrifice into a transaction.
He didn't help Mallory because he expected a reward.
He helped her because she was his sister.
Because she was hurting.
And because he loved her.
To me, that's what family should mean.
Not that everybody gets to demand unlimited sacrifices.
Not that personal ambitions are unimportant.
But that when something genuinely difficult happens, the people who love you should care enough to help if they can.
And when they do, we should recognize what that kindness may have cost them.
Because sometimes the greatest lesson television can teach us isn't that good people always get what they deserve.
It's that we should still try to be good people even when life doesn't promise us anything in return.
That's what Alex P. Keaton taught me in "Go Tigers."
And honestly?
For a young man who usually measured success in grades, money, and future career opportunities, that may have been his most impressive achievement of all.
Even without Princeton.
