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I posted this last year from a different account, made some slight changes for this year. We made it fellas.
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There is nothing quite like it. It happens every year. Like the changing of the season, or an old familiar feeling.
The last decade of Nebraska football has been about as painful as one can imagine. Yearly expectations turned into unescapable madness. Turning on that TV on Saturday to watch the boys in Scarlett and Cream, instead of an escape it is a 3-hour agonizing pursuit of happiness which seems just beyond our fingertips but always out of reach. What was once a chipper “There is no way we lose this game”, turned to a somber “How are we going to find a way to lose this one”. Inventing new ways to lose, each one topping the last.
You see I am just a young buck. 80% of the Nebraska Football memories I have are those like I just described. The others are one off amazing victories such as Maurice Purify to beat A&M, or Westerkamp to beat Northwestern. A rolodex of mid 2000’s players fill my mind; How about Porkchop, what about Stanley Jean-Baptiste, or Cortney Grixby. Too young to remember 2001, old enough to remember my grandma feeding her Bill Callahan signed football to her dog. Decent enough to be proud of being a fan growing up, but ever since I have discovered my own relationship with football and Dear Old Nebraska U, it has been misery.
My dad never had it that way, he attended multiple National Championships, countless road wins in hostile enemy territory. You see him disappointed at it all; I am sure he wonders where it went wrong, how his beloved team could stumble and fall. I get jealous he experienced the best years, but I am sure it is no easier now for him to watch a game than it is for me. How about an age-old question; Is it better to have loved and lost or have never loved at all?
Often times I chuckle after a loss thinking how I must be a cursed football fan. You see when Nebraska loses, it guts me – a relentless gluttony eating away at the few remaining straws of hope. When the season ends now in late November, when it once went until January. I can’t help but feel relief. I don’t have to put myself through that anymore. And this was the last year of getting my hopes up, not happening again no that is for sure.
And then… Rhule begins to build his culture, Cockeye and CU fans hating on our 5-star prodigy like vultures. Chasing 3 to the nth degree. Talent and development – another off-season National Championship and GBR Cool Aid Sip or the building blocks to returning to blue-chip.
It’s August. The month it returns. We thought it would never come. Good press conferences, going through the schedule 100 times and gaining confidence. 10-2 or 9-3, hell that would be just fine for me. A single-digit jersey here, a Blackshirt there. The wait is over. It is game week. It is finally here. Nebraska Football is back and damn it; it is our year.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
There is nothing quite like it. It happens every year. Like the changing of the season, or an old familiar feeling.
The last decade of Nebraska football has been about as painful as one can imagine. Yearly expectations turned into unescapable madness. Turning on that TV on Saturday to watch the boys in Scarlett and Cream, instead of an escape it is a 3-hour agonizing pursuit of happiness which seems just beyond our fingertips but always out of reach. What was once a chipper “There is no way we lose this game”, turned to a somber “How are we going to find a way to lose this one”. Inventing new ways to lose, each one topping the last.
You see I am just a young buck. 80% of the Nebraska Football memories I have are those like I just described. The others are one off amazing victories such as Maurice Purify to beat A&M, or Westerkamp to beat Northwestern. A rolodex of mid 2000’s players fill my mind; How about Porkchop, what about Stanley Jean-Baptiste, or Cortney Grixby. Too young to remember 2001, old enough to remember my grandma feeding her Bill Callahan signed football to her dog. Decent enough to be proud of being a fan growing up, but ever since I have discovered my own relationship with football and Dear Old Nebraska U, it has been misery.
My dad never had it that way, he attended multiple National Championships, countless road wins in hostile enemy territory. You see him disappointed at it all; I am sure he wonders where it went wrong, how his beloved team could stumble and fall. I get jealous he experienced the best years, but I am sure it is no easier now for him to watch a game than it is for me. How about an age-old question; Is it better to have loved and lost or have never loved at all?
Often times I chuckle after a loss thinking how I must be a cursed football fan. You see when Nebraska loses, it guts me – a relentless gluttony eating away at the few remaining straws of hope. When the season ends now in late November, when it once went until January. I can’t help but feel relief. I don’t have to put myself through that anymore. And this was the last year of getting my hopes up, not happening again no that is for sure.
And then… Rhule begins to build his culture, Cockeye and CU fans hating on our 5-star prodigy like vultures. Chasing 3 to the nth degree. Talent and development – another off-season National Championship and GBR Cool Aid Sip or the building blocks to returning to blue-chip.
It’s August. The month it returns. We thought it would never come. Good press conferences, going through the schedule 100 times and gaining confidence. 10-2 or 9-3, hell that would be just fine for me. A single-digit jersey here, a Blackshirt there. The wait is over. It is game week. It is finally here. Nebraska Football is back and damn it; it is our year.
