Even at a university peopled with achievers, identical twins Matthew and Christian DiPaola, senior starting tackles on Cornell varsity football's offensive line, approach the game and their studies with exceptional drive.
The Big Red's starting offensive tackles, who spent their junior seasons side by side at guard, want their team to win the Ivy League championship, and they want to give their quarterback and running backs their best blocking efforts. And they've set about learning their positions with the same concentration they apply to their studies in biology.
The DiPaolas, from Rochester, see a future in medicine. Both are interested in neurobiology, especially Christian. He's thought about being a neurosurgeon since third grade, he said, "when most kids couldn't spell it." Now he and Matthew, approaching the end of their studies at Cornell, are applying to medical schools.
They say they don't especially care if they attend the same medical school, however, they do appreciate the advantages in being together, such as sharing a car, helping each other in little ways that only two people that close can, and, as they have since boyhood, pushing each other toward their goals. But if they must separate for the first time in their lives, so be it, they say.
"It's a sign of immaturity to always have to be together," Christian said. "The world doesn't work that way. Either way, it will be a novelty [to other people]. If we're together, people will ask why we went to the same place. If we're not, the question will be, 'Why aren't you together?' We're always being asked about it."
"It" is the fact that they are alike in so many ways, from their faces (although their voices differ slightly), to their 6-foot-2-inch frames that they've built to over 250 pounds, career interests that coincide and lives that have entwined since birth. They're accustomed to the attention they get as identical twins, and yet they're weary of it. They laugh when questions arise about their individual identities, even as they frown on people who don't bother to learn who is who.
No, they didn't switch classes to fool teachers and friends at Aquinas Institute, the Catholic school on Rochester's north side where they starred in football and baseball. OK, they tried to fool Cornell teammates once, when Matthew tricked a player on Christian's spring scrimmage team into revealing the signal for the secret play that each team was allowed.
"It didn't matter," Christian said. "We had two secret plays."
The DiPaolas grew up playing their own one-on-one football games in their yard when their friends weren't around. They grew up with lessons about hard work from their father, James, an earth science teacher at Aquinas, and their mother, Francine, who fuels the family upholstery business with a drive that leaves them awed.
They've lived together all four years at Cornell.
"It makes sense," Matthew said, "because we've lived together all our lives. We can help each other in small ways, like picking up this book or checking this lab schedule."
"We both have to work real hard," Christian said, "and anything we can do to lessen distractions, we're better off."
"Our father taught us to stick together," Matthew said. "He always said that having someone a lot like you is a resource."
"And he said family is the only thing you know you have," Christian said.
"[Christian] is someone I can trust, no matter what," Matthew said.
"Yeah, no matter what," Christian repeated. "Loyalty is huge."
Consider the weight room, where in preseason the twins led the team in the art of applying muscle and technique to unyielding iron. Family friends Bernie DeCamilla and Art DiAntonio, both from power-lifting backgrounds, showed the boys the way in eighth grade. Now Matthew and Christian bench press 420 pounds and 410 pounds, respectively. They each squat about 600 pounds and dead-lift 725 pounds, with a goal of 800. Matthew says it only makes sense that they're so close in achievement, since they're so close genetically.
The DiPaolas say the fact that they started together on the offensive line last year was an idea initiated by the coaching staff to take advantage of their unique bond of personality and talent. They savored the opportunity, they say, but they're more comfortable now at tackle than at guard.
And in their dreams this year, they imagine the Ivy League championship rings that they've seen on other people's fingers. And they look further ahead, with confidence, for the DiPaolas have a habit of making their visions into realities.