Root for the Other Team.

Last weekend the Nebraska Cornhuskers played the Bethune Cookman Wildcats in football. The game was in Lincoln NE. Nebraska's first game against Akron was cancelled because of weather. I don't really know much about Bethune Cookman, but it seems they are a small college and they took the game because it offered a nice paycheck and a chance to play in front of big crowd. They weren't expected to win. They didn't. They played hard, and never gave up.

I read in interview with Wildcats running back Alfred Adams, a young man that played as hard as anybody on the field. Someone asked him about the crowd and the way they cheered for Bethune Cookman. 

"I was confused. I didn't understand why at first, I didn't know if they were fake or us or what. But, soon I realized they were just encouraging us and it was love because we didn't have any fans here so it was love the whole game."  Adams said. 

I thought about that for quite a while, and it is true Cornhusker fans, after losing the first 6 games of the season and ten in a row, were hungry for something to cheer about. But, I remembered a story that Mac Brown had told on television.

He was coaching the Texas Longhorns and they had beaten Nebraska, in Lincoln to snap a home winning streak that went back several seasons. It was around fifty games in length. Ricky Williams, the Longhorns running back was unstoppable that day. If he couldn't run around someone he ran over the top of them. It seemed like he carried the ball on every play and had about a thousand yards. He left defenders laying all over the field looking as if they needed triage.

ABC interviewed Brown and Williams on the field, asking all the usual questions and getting all the normal answers. "Thank God, my linemen, the coaches..."  I thought, you should thank the defense, they just boosted your Heisman hopes.

"I told Ricky to put on his helmet, people would be throwing things at us when we ran to the tunnel." Brown said. But, something amazing, to him, anyway happened. The crowd gave Ricky Williams a standing ovation. He had played well, and deserved respect.

I thought about those incidents this weekend. Rooting for the other team once in a while is a good practice. We have more in common than we realize. You can learn a lot about life from a football game.

Go Big Red, Hope Springs Eternal

I have worn glasses for over twenty years. Often I neglect cleaning them for long stretches. So everything looks a little fuzzy, out of focus. Things seem a little softer, more acceptable. It can give me the power of a regenerative shortsightedness that most of humanity doesn’t understand. It is the only way I can be a sports fan. 

Most people complain, bitterly, about the weaknesses of their teams. I have a friend, an Ohio State fan, and he was worried about the Tulane game. I said, “Don’t worry, it’s only Tulane.”

“Our offense is doing well, but our defense is struggling.” His reason for concern.

“You could let your offense play defense and still be ok. It’s only Tulane.” I said. I’ m not sure what the final score was, but it was probably pretty lopsided.

It has become almost fashionable to nitpick a team, find problems,  carp endlessly about deficiencies. “They are weak against the deep pass,” They can’t cover the short routes,” “They can’t run between the tackles.” “They couldn’t find their a$$ with both hands and a roadmap.”

Well, this year my team is 0 and 3, and if you were historically inclined enough to look back to last season the numbers get even worse. I don’t like to think back that far if it is going to make things look worse. But, plenty of people are willing to look backward, people with newpaper and internet columns, people in front of television cameras, people who have nothing better to do than tell me how bad things really are.

I just put on my glasses, tinged with the careful accumulation of optimism, a glaze of hopeful expectation, a cautionary filter of pain reducing film, and think, “Well, we got beat pretty bad yesterday, but we could still win the Big Ten. We just have to win the Western Division, win the Conference Championship game, It’s our for the taking.” And my coffee tastes a little better, richer, smoother. 

Of course, I don’t say any of this too loud, or the hostility would become deafening. “We can’t run and we can’t pass, block, or tackle, kick, cover kicks, or call plays. All is lost.” 

And, maybe so. But, from where my view things are looking up. We are starting a new season next weekend, the Big Ten West season, and we haven’t lost a Big Ten West game yet, that’s right we are undefeated in the Big Ten West. Oh, the possibilities, the potential. Not only football, though. The Volleyball team is racking up wins so quickly, so adorably, hugs and smiles, and “kills” for everyone. Basketball season is coming quickly and I am predicting a national championship for the group who is still probably a little angry about being cheated out of the tournament last year.

It is a good time to be a Husker, I just need to keep my glasses away from my wife, she loves nothing better than cleaning away all then rosy cheer I have so carefully applied. 

Oh, and don’t forget to visit my monthly column on the Wild Word, Head Above Water, and vote for your favorite song, at least your favorite song from a list of songs I have so carefully provided. Last month’s winner was Goodbye to You by Scandal. I will listen to it everyday on my way to work, you can decide who has a starring role next month. 

 

Bracketology, Hope Springs Eternal.

It is a bad day, here at the Life Explained Department of Bracketology.* The team we had picked to win the championship has been eliminated already. Yes, we understand that technically the tournament hasn't really started yet. But, technically the team we picked, our favorite team is not in that tournament. They are in the NIT, or they were in the NIT until last night, when they lost.

You see, we had this plan. Somewhere between The Dirty Thirty Two** and the Sweet Sixteen we were going to sneak the Nebraska Cornhuskers into the tournament using the difficult, dangerous double pincer movement made famous by the Ancient Greeks in the decisive battle of Marathon where they used it to such brutal effectiveness against the numerically superior Persian Army. Immortalized in the movie, "Wow, I Did Not See That Coming."

But, they lost to Mississippi State in Starkville. In a game that should have been in Lincoln. More accurately should have been today in the NCAA tournament, but don't get us started about that, we are still furious.



Anyway, we had them sneaking in, unnoticed and winning it all. We hadn't worked out all the details yet, but it involved kidnapping a team, swapping uniforms, and sending them to play in the other tournament. While Nebraska took their rightful place in the Championship game.

But, it didn't work out. Not this year, anyway. So, we have started bracketologing the hell out of next year already. I don't want to give too much away, but Nebraska wins the national championship. And we all go home happy. 




* Not affiliated with the NCAA, Espn, CBS, or any of those other Bracketologists.

** Not the real nickname for the round with thirty two teams, we aren't sure if it has a proper name yet. If not this one is for sale, please contact our attorneys, or just send us cash, we aren't fussy.

Meet Our New Bracketologist,

We, here at Life Explained, have hired a new bracketologist. For the uninitiated bracketology is study of the structure of the NCAA basketball tournament, make wild, inaccurate predictions about the teams that will populate the places and, from this gooey, sloppy mess of guesswork, devine how far each team will travel along their designated path.

There are few jobs that require so little dedication to being correct and have so few repercussions for error. Maybe congress person, or television meteorologist, but nobody pays any attention to them. The bracketologist, however, is a revered, adored personality whose every word is weighed, recorded, acted upon.

Never more than in March. Printers across America and probably around the world, are whirring, spitting out Brackets. Duplicate sheets, by the dozen, as people try to predict who from the field of 68 will bring home the title.

Until this year this writer was the bracketologist in chief. But, since Nebraska got screwed by the inept, untrained, apprentice clowns on the selection committee and it was impossible to overcome the bitter resentment and boundless rage it seemed like it might be time to abdicate to a fresh new perspective.


In all fairness, it takes a lot of fun out of picking a team to win the championship and have them lose early in the tournament if it isn't a team you love.

Since our previous bracketologist (this writer) has set a new record in wrongness having picked the Cornhuskers to win the title when they are not even in the tournament, we feel he has reached the very mountain top of sports forecasting. It is now time for a fresh approach.

Ladies and gentlemen, children, pets, and visitors from other planets, dimensions, and time periods please say hello to Doctor Dawg, sports authority.

Goodbye, Coach. What a Long Strange Trip it’s Been.

“For when the one great scorer comes to mark against your name

He writes - not that you won or lost - but how you played the game.”

Alumnus Football, Grantland Rice

It has been a long season. It was a long afternoon. In a string of long afternoons, in a string of long seasons. Watching the season unfold has been excruciating, I hate to think of what it has been like for the coaches. Reviled, booed, smeared all over the newspaper, television, radio, internet, over coffee, beers, breakfasts, dinners, anyplace that can support the anger and disappointment of broken hearted fans, and “sports personalities. I don’t even like to think about the pain of the players, children, kids really, youthful men, who have worked so hard to reach the exalted ranks of college athlete, Nebraska Cornhusker. Now they are being manhandled regularly. Losing is a great teacher

It teaches humility, acceptance, tolerance. These are the rewards of watching your team slowly disintegrating over the course of a season. When it is three seasons, well the benefits are almost the stuff of biblical trials. But, there is a cleansing in the pain, a strength from putting on the shirts adorned with team logos and rooting against the odds, and common sense, and recent history, and the barely forgotten pain of only a week ago. Rejuvenation by fire, just like the ancient warriors, when their teams were suffering through droughts. The stakes were probably a little higher, losing to the lions meant a whole lot more in Rome than it does in Happy Valley. 

A person learns there are only so many polite ways to refer to the days when a team used to be relevant, “the once proud Nebraska Cornhuskers,” has been repeated so often it rings through the empty spots where I used to keep my vanity. The echo makes a chilling, mournful sound, the mating call of a manic depressive bird. It lasts for days and manifests itself in awkward conversations when the pain comes flooding out over coffee on Monday morning. “So, Tim, did you do anything this weekend?”

“Oh, I put a new filter in the glove box, dusted all the lightbulbs and cried myself to sleep in front of the television, after swearing at people I don’t know, will never meet. I wrapped myself so tightly in the success of a distant team that their loss was a crippling blow to my self esteem, which left me feeling empty, a hollow shell of who I was only the day before. You?” 

Next year we will have a new coach and the expectation of a Phoenix rising from the ashes, and I will buy in, I always do. Every year, no matter what, I tell my wife, who is kind enough to agree, this is the year, we are going to make some noise. I am not referring to a funeral dirge, which is the sound of this season. 

Today, probably, but within a week definitely,  a man will lose his job, and people will celebrate. I will wait until they hire a new coach, I don’t want to be seen dancing on any graves, even if they are only symbolic. When they announce a new coach I will jump on the bandwagon, raise my glass and sing, until then I will be sorry a man lost his job.

Until then I will be sorry to see Mike Riley go. He was a true gentleman in a business filled with jackals. He always had an air of dignity, even in defeat. Which isn’t often the case in the world of big money college athletics. I hoped he would return glory to the program. His kindly demeanor and quiet manner was refreshing. But, that isn’t enough in the business of college athletics. Results are what count. He has been coaching long enough, he knows what is coming. Still, I will miss the calm. Winning isn’t everything, no, it is, winning is everything.

Which is odd, because contracts are never written with any provision for winning. It never says “we want you to win, if you don’t we will fire you.” I’m not sure what the contracts say, but I do know if you have three seasons that are well below the acceptable level of athletic performance and are fired the university is required to pay you through the end of your contract. Unless the school can dream up some “lack of institutional control” scandal, leak it to the press and ruin a man’s career and the reputation of several young men you promised to “mold into successful adults.” Better known as Plan A.

If you want to know the truth, and who doesn’t? I’m not sure what to say, how to wrap this up. So, I will leave you with the words of Thayer, Mighty Casey at the Bat;

“Oh somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,

The band is playing somewhere and somewhere hearts are light,

And somewhere men are laughing and somewhere children shout,

But, there is no joy in Mudville, Mighty Casey has struck out.”

A Road Trip, A Roundball Game, and Some Complaining

Yesterday we went to West Lafayette, IN to watch the Nebraska Cornhuskers play the Purdue Boilermakers. Make no mistake the Boilermakers are named after the profession, people who make boilers and other metal monstrosities that require specialized skills, not the beer and bourbon drink, a monstrosity of a different kind. Make no mistake Purdue is a school with a long tradition of winning basketball games. I remember watching Gene Keady scowling on the sidelines as his team fought their way through a tough big ten schedule. I remember giants like Glenn Robinson, and Joe Barry Carrol. Purdue and I go back a long way. Make no mistake, though. I was there to root for the Cornhuskers.

It was a cold day, about 6 degrees. And it was a long drive, about 3 and a half hours. But, it was a blast. Going to a game at Purdue is a little different. You don’t have to pay for parking. Every place else we’ve been charges at least ten dollars. We parked in a huge garage two blocks from the stadium and it cost nothing. I’m not sure if it was an oversight, or just a simple act of midwestern generosity, either way it seems nice.

Mackey Arena is a place with a long history. a lot of great basketball has been played in that building. But, it is the most difficult place to sit. They pack you in with little room to move, right, left, front or back. And if you want to get a drink or a hot dog, you will inconvenience not only the people in your row, but the people in front and behind as well. It is that cramped. If you get a few guys a little on the heavy side, like me, and the guys sitting next to me it is positively intimate. You get closer to strangers than you had ever dreamed.

Nebraska was an 18.5 underdog. A reflection of how poorly people who make their living gambling thought they were going to play. I was pretty sure that was too many but, they don’t really care about either team, and not weighed down with loyalty. I figured if Nebraska could his some open shots and the officials remained neutral things would be ok. Nebraska missed a lot of shots, and the Purdue center Isaac Haas, who is 7’ 2”, was the target of referee affection, which is not all that surprising. 

Ample proof of that happened late in the game, when the outcome was already decided. Issac Copeland, who is 6’ 9” caught a pass coming down the lane, leaped as if from a trampoline, and dunked over Haas. It was an amazing display of athletic ability. We were sitting straight up from the backboard so we had a great view, and we applauded, politely, to the annoyance of the Purdue fans surrounding us.  Haas tried to block the shot, knocking Copeland to the floor. A play that would have been called a foul had Haas been shooting. The referee called Copeland for a technical foul. Cries of foolishness rose from most sports reporting sites. But, big ten officials are a hearty group with a noted ability to ignore reality. 

It was fun and we had a good time. Coach Miles has his team playing better all the time. Next year we will go to another game, maybe in Bloomington, IN, or Ann Arbor MI, or State College PA. This report was bought to you by the Cornhusker Road Crew, Part Time.  

Another close one slips away.

This football season has been very trying. I am normally pretty happy if my team plays well enough to win. But, this year I have had to revise that opinion, I think. This year I might have to say I will be happy when the Cornhuskers actually win. 

Losing four games on the opponents final offensive play is an almost impossible feat. You have to work very hard to play just well enough to lose. Would it be that much harder to put in a little more effort and actually end the game with a few more points than the other team? It takes careful planning to get so close and fail.

Why, for example, is the coaching staff so keen on passing on first down? Yesterday it was not working, but yesterday that did not stop them from trying. And it did not stop them from trying against Illinois. In both games the Cornhuskers averaged over 5 yards a carry, and with the game on the line in the 4th quarter they couldn't get a first down to win the game. That is a sign of team that does not know how to win. And losing is not a great tutor. 

I am not advocating firing a coach, but there are plenty of people who will. And, as fans, I suppose that is their right. College sports has become an all or nothing affair, and either you win, big, often and repeatedly or you are a loser, and any team with a history of success feels they deserve better. Nobody wants to wait for better.

It is possible that the worst is behind this team, that the difficult lessons learned over the first six weeks of the season are the bitter medicine and the healing will begin with a big win over Minnesota, and a half season accolades, and victories and glory unimaginable in the darkness covering these poor young men now. I hope so anyway.

I don't know the answer, hell, I don't even understand the question. But, I am a lowly blogger. Last year after Wisconsin ran up and down the field and their talented running back set a single game rushing record against Nebraska a reporter asked Bo Pelini what happened, how things went so poorly. "I don't know," was his answer. He got paid a lot of money to know why Melvin Gordon ran untouched all day long, and it was obvious he was a coach on the way out. Riley needs to find some answers to the malaise that afflicts his team. That is why he makes so much money. And for the sake of the team I love let's all hope he can.

Cornhuskers, Football, and Life.

There comes a time in every life when a person has to look at the decisions made, the paths followed. A time when the wealth of deeds needs to be measured, and expectations evaluated. A time when a real man, or woman (having no understanding of women I will leave that to women) will look at his, or her life and understand, almost instinctually if significant progress has been made toward the goals set. Or whether modifications are needed, whether it be to the goals, or to the tactics of life.

Given the state of my life, and my deep, uncompromised loathing for introspection, my mistrust of self examination, and the fact that it is Saturday, the greatest day of the week, the weather is beautiful, and I am feeling very peaceful we are not going to have none of that.

Note my signature finger in the photo!

Instead, we are going to talk about the coming football season, it is Saturday, after all.  I am an unapologetic Nebraska Cornhusker fan. Yes, they have had their troubles lately, and yes they are still in the midst of a rebuilding process that has taken years, and yes the new coaching staff will certainly need time to develop their team. But, I don't care. 

I forgot the finger,
please forgive me.

In the end there has to be something besides winning that drives a fan. You need to feel some kinship with the players, coaches and other fans. Some deep, communal bond that transcends the game. We, my family and I, are big Louisville Cardinal basketball fans (I have been for years, since before Dr. Dunkenstein) and we try to take in a game at the Yum Center in Louisville every year. When you walk around the arena before the game there is a friendly, family reunion feel. People are smiling, and the camaraderie is palpable. It is transcendent, and tonic. And sports needs that.

Of course I want the team to win every game, but, I still wear my Nebraska shirts with pride when they don't. After a loss, when, without fail, someone will ask "what happened?" I will say "they lost." and walk away smiling. These are young men, who work incredibly hard, and are coached by people who have made an obsession of learning the nuances of the sport. And sometimes that is not enough, but it would be a comedy of idiocy were I to try coaching the team, so I don't try to coach, post game. 

When people ask if I am "happy about winning only 8 games a season." I say "I am extremely happy when they win, and less happy when they lose. But, feel comfortable saying it wasn't because they weren't trying."

We have a new coach this year and that is always exciting. We are undefeated so far, and that is great. And, we have a whole season of ups and downs, and the roller coaster ride is what makes it worthwhile, so thank you Mike Riley, thank you Nebraska Cornhuskers, and fans, I am ready.  It will be a great season.

Fantasy Football, A Dream Season.

My cousin, Mike, (in our family we call him Handsome Mike) sent me a poster with the Nebraska basketball schedule, it was a very nice gesture.  In a way, he kind of owed me.  He sent one to me earlier, but, in typical fashion for my family (we think we are so funny) he addressed it to my wife, who kept it.  She is a big fan of the team, and the coach, and, in typical fashion for my wife, likes to do things that will irritate me (she thinks she is so funny).  But, now I have my own, and can look up the next game with impunity.  "Oh, did you notice, we play the Hoosiers next Tuesday?"  I can ask.  I say we, to signal solidarity, my wife, the team, and me.  I am sure they say the same thing.

Earlier this year, my cousin, Adorable Mike, asked me if I wanted to participate in a fantasy football league, I said sure, sign me up. This is not my first rodeo, or at least not my first attempt at fantasy football, anyway, I've never been in a rodeo.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I know one end of a horse from another, but would just as soon stay away from both ends, the one that kicks, and the end that bites.  Plus, there are all those flies hanging around stables, and where there are flies there are spiders.
All in all, it is just a good idea to stay away from farm animals, dangerous things.  And don't even get me started on the smell...  oops.

Anyway, I agreed to join Mike's league, thinking this time it would be different, I would pour my heart and soul into studying the choices, and draft a good team.  Every week would be an opportunity to prove myself, my ability to locate talent overlooked by others, my unique eye for the undiscovered.  I picked a cool name, the Demons, and went on a scouting trip, time to find some talent.

Then, it hit me, I don't know anything about the NFL, its players, or the teams.  So, I started looking into things.  At some point the league had changed, almost radically.  Now there is a North and South division in each conference and the central divisions are gone.  When did that happen?  Why wasn't I informed?

Plus, fantasy football is a real task.  I am not sure how it works, but it seems that the performance of the players on your team are graded against expectations, and a numerical value is assigned according to degree of success.  Then all of these scores are added together and that is how each game is scored.  I think.  Every week is the arduous, time consuming, painstaking task of looking at how each player is predicted to perform, and trading for those whose odds of overachieving are the greatest.  I think.  That does sound like fun!!!

My cousin, Mike the Striking told me that the Demons are in the playoffs.  I suppose it is time to get serious about finding the right balance for the long haul to the championship.  Unfortunately, I don't remember my user name or password.

Don't forget to tune in next week to find out how we did.  Bring your own confetti, I think there will be a big party.

An End, And A Beginning.

December 1st, the end of the season, and a head coach gets fired, and the hatred and blame start in earnest.  It is too bad, but the man has a very nice severance package and will have ample resources to provide for his family.  He did an admirable job at Nebraska, but, his rate of pay probably should indicate that admirable would only carry a coach so far.  There were times when people would expect extraordinary.

Wisconsin, probably was enough to make the decision.  Another lopsided, humiliating defeat at the hands of a team that was really not significantly better than Nebraska.  To be fair no one should really say the Badgers were fantastically superior to NU, but on that day they ran all over the Husker defense, Melvin Gordon ripping off long runs, 40 or 60 yards, (it looked like miles) untouched jaunts into the end zone, and it seemed like the only real threat was one of his teammates knocking him to the ground.  He should thank Nebraska in his post season award acceptance speeches.  Thank you Badger coach for sitting him down in the 4th quarter.  Nebraska's offense could not hold onto the ball long enough to help either.   The storm was approaching.

If that game was an omen the Minnesota game the following week was the tolling bell.  Senior day, and after a decent start, a complete collapse.  Minnesota's quarterback, a very good player, to be sure, starts to look like Melvin Gordon.  Running around the end for 12 or 14 yards a play.  Thank goodness he ran out of bounds.

Bo Pelini did a good job, and I will always be a fan.  It got a little old watching them collapse once or twice a year, though.  Earlier in the season I thought the Cornhuskers were getting very little respect, they were undefeated, had a Heisman candidate running the ball, a defense that looked like it might be living up to standards, and a relatively easy division, in a conference that was having an off year.  But, it seems like voters knew better.  Why bother putting them higher, the inevitable meltdown was coming, with terrifying regularity.

As far as the arguments that say Nebraska has no right to expect better,  I respectfully say, speaking only for myself, I think an occasional conference championship is not asking for too much.  Not being humiliated once or twice a year on television is not too demanding.  Maybe this is wrong, but it sounds reasonable.  To answer the question of who would accept a job at a school that fires a coach with nine wins.  It seems the coaching world is filled with giant egos, and there is no shortage of people willing to take a paycheck that size.

But, the future starts today, and it is being written right now, so I accept the bad with the good, knowing that there will be wins and losses in the years ahead.  But, honestly this is probably the only decision that could have been made.  I raise my coffee cup and toast the future, good luck Bo, I know you will do well, and good luck Shawn Eichorst, it is a difficult road you travel, and I hope you find a great coach, and last Go Big Red, I will always be a fan.

Another Saturday Night, Another Chance to Dream.

As is normally the case, last Saturday we watched college football.  It was a nice day, so my son and I took off for a kick scooter ride, and we had a lot of fun, and took a few pictures, I only mention this so I can add this picture to the post.  I like this picture.

But, when we got home we started watching Minnesota play Michigan, at Ann Arbor. It was close at half time, Minnesota was ahead 10 to 7.  In the second half Minnesota started to dominate the game, and really looked like the better team.

It is always difficult to say whether one team is so much better than the other based on one game, and it is even harder to make that comparison from the results of one half.  But, it doesn't stop the announcers, in this case ESPN analyst Ed Cunningham, who said that Minnesota would have to be considered the odds on favorite in the Big Ten Western Division.

Based on this one half of dominant football he was willing to overlook Michigan State (I don't really remember what he felt their glaring weakness was), Wisconsin  (I am not sure why he felt they were so easy to ignore), and Nebraska, who, he said, "has their problems."  Excuse me, Mr Cunningham, but so far those weaknesses have been amply compensated for by their strengths, to the tune of 7.5 yards per play, and 6.9 yards per rush.  Sure, Nebraska's defense has been a little inconsistent, but anybody who has been paying attention has to say they are improving, and are vastly superior to last year at this time.

Of course, next weeks game at Michigan State (is it just my imagination or did Nebraska play at East Lansing last year?) will help clear up some of the picture, and Minnesota is certainly a good football team, but it is a little early make such bold predictions.

On an unrelated note, we watched most of the Air Force game.  They were playing Boise State, and I was rooting for Air Force.  I like the service academies, possibly because they run the option so much, and so well.  The Falcons were looking very good, really dominating the Broncos.  ESPN analyst Aaron Taylor was pretty certain it was going to be short lived.  With every Air Force miscue he would comment on how it might be just what Boise State needed to mount their inevitable comeback.  It never happened.  But, he did comment on one of the receivers, and how he "used to be a former quarterback."  It might be suggested, possibly, that he is still a former quarterback, and at some point will also be a former receiver.

Analysts are a funny group of people, it would be so hard to make such bold statements so often and wipe them from memory so quickly.  In fairness, though, if you had to fill up so much time with unscripted dialog it would be easy to misspeak occasionally.  I salute the sports announcers around the world, theirs is not an easy lot, and they are only trying to make a living.

Again, the Cornhuskers tromped up and down the field, smashing their way through an Illinois team that would have loved to ruin homecoming.  Ameer Abdullah proved he is a strong contender for the Heisman Trophy, and any other award that could possibly go to such a fantastic football player, who also seems to be such a wonderful human being.  I remember an interview last spring, when Ameer Abdullah claimed to have "more bounce than Benny."  What he forgot to mention was he also had more power than Hercules, more speed than Hermes, and more personality than anybody deserves.

I am starting to fall into that old trap, dreaming of an undefeated season, championships, and glory, and you know, it is great.  No matter what happens though, this team is a lot of fun to watch.  And, I thank them for pleasure, and the dreams.

Football Analysts should remember the wisdom of Bob Dylan who said,

"Well, the moral of this story,
The Moral of this song,
Is simply, one should never be,
Where one does not belong,
So, when you see your neighbor carrying somethin',
Help him with his load,
And, don't go mistakin' Paradise,
For that house across the road."

One for the Ages.

It wasn't fancy and it wasn't pretty, and it didn't carry the significance of some of the meetings in the past.  But, if you think it wasn't important to these two teams you probably did not watch the game.

From the first play it was obvious that, even though the players on the field had not taken part in the gladiatorial contests of the pasts they knew these were schools with a shared history.  An unpleasant, fierce, competitive background.  And, they were willing to carry that standard into the present, and make sure it lived to see tomorrow.

In the end Nebraska won this game.  Using a brutal ground assault, smashing and crushing, and pounding.  Huskers along the offensive must have majored in history, they were surging forward, opening holes, and invoking memories of past glories.  This was a ferocious game, against a determined, talented defense, and this group of huge, powerful, relentless young men won it with their play.

Downfield, Kenny Bell (who has repeatedly shown he is a weapon catching a pass) and the entire Nebraska receiving corps proved that not only can they average over 16 yards a catch, but they can keep their teammates moving forward by throwing blocks that would make a pulling guard smile with pride.

But, it was the play of the two headed, four legged football monster of Tommy Armstrong Jr. and Ameer Abdullah that roared the loudest.  Two flashes of brilliance whose total is more than the sum or even the product of the individual parts.  Tommy Armstrong is a gunslinger, cool, inscrutable, fearless, he is in control, and he is a treasure, in red.  Ameer Abdullah is Shiva, though, he is a five foot nine inch, 190 pound destroyer, the shatterer of worlds.

Watching Abdullah driving through opponents, outrunning, overpowering, brings back so many memories of Nebraska I backs, a dream sequence in a red jersey, a flashback to glorious days of indecent rushing totals, and scores.  If there is a club for great Nebraska running backs there is a special seat reserved for number 8.

No, in the end it wasn't pretty, but to a guy who remembers the past so fondly, it was beautiful.  Thank you, Tim Beck, thank you Tommy Armstrong, and Ameer Abdullah, thank you Nebraska Cornhuskers.

As Bob Dylan said, with such haunting beauty,

"Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood,

When blackness was a virtue, and the road was full of mud,

I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form,

'Come in' she said 'I'll give you shelter from the storm.'"

A Hero Saves the Day.

It was a terrifyingly close call yesterday.  The game could have gone either way, and it was not decided until the very end.  But, in the end a shiny knight, a determined, willful, young man, using speed, elusiveness, and power rescued a team, and it's fans.

The Cornhuskers played a very

determined opponent, a team hell bent on bringing home a victory as well as a big pay check.  They intended to be the loathsome, conquering invaders, sieging the Big Red Empire.  Cowboy hordes from Louisiana with evil intentions.  How difficult the situation looked with less than a minute left.

Most of the day our high powered offense was outrun, and over-powered, and McNeese State looked like a team that had every right to be playing at Memorial Stadium on Saturday, in the fall.  They were fast, ruthless, angry, and impressive.

With time running out, and things looking desperate, we needed something, some spark, somebody had to do something.  Third and six, at our own 41, and people all over were hoping for a first down, and another play that would bring us to within field goal range, at least people around here.

A quick, short pass to Ameer Abdullah, who stepped backward to avoid one tackle, headed upfield slowing long enough to deliver a hammering blow to three defenders, who fell to the ground as he ran past, and people in the stands held their breath.  After picking up a couple blocks, including a crucial down field hit from Jordan Westerkamp, who proved he can make magic without catching the ball, he shifted into a higher gear, sprinted into the endzone and won the game, and people in the stands let out a shout of glorious gratitude, and relief.

Earlier in the week the Cornhuskers had tweeted some of Abdullah's stats, and they were impressive.  But, the thing that stayed with me, was the hashtag, #FearAmeer, mostly because it was so catchy.  Today, it seems we should add a few well deserved hashtags.  I would like to nominate #ThankAmeer, and, possibly #AdoreAmeer, though, in fairness, I did not have to try to tackle him when he was determined to save the day.

Once more to quote Bob Dylan,

"Thunder on the mountain, fires on the moon,
There's a ruckus in the alley and the sun will be here soon,
Today's the day, gonna grab my trombone and blow,
Well, there's hot stuff here and it's everywhere I go.

Thank you, Bob, and thank you Ameer.

Just a fool for a pretty face.

That was pretty impressive.  Of course, it was only the first game, and it was only Florida Atlantic.  Of course, the first several minutes dredged up some old memories, and  scraped open some old wounds, but even when it looked as if it might be a lot more exciting game than many Husker fans wanted there was an offensive spectacle that was chewing up yardage, and shredding the defense.

Something odd happened about eight minutes into the game.  The defense started playing with passion, anger, and a smothering, attacking attitude.  It was a ferocious, terrifying horror movie performance, and the memories began to come from a different time.  A time when season openers were a fashion show, where players who rarely saw the field after September would parade onto the field in the second half to play a game they loved in front of stadium filled with people who loved them.

Sometime in the second half today, the quarterback leading the offense down the field to score was from Grand Island, and the crowd went wild.  It was one part of a 784 yard, 55 to 7 thrashing.  And the crowd went wild.  Ameer Abdullah ran around, over and through the defense crashing and bruising and burning for 232 yards on 21 attempts, and the crowd went mad with delight.

It was a day filled with magic, as proven by the extraordinary catch made by Jordan Westerkamp. Who, in the merest fraction of a second before stepping, out of bounds caught a tipped behind his back.  It was an amazing catch, almost supernatural, and the crowd went insane with joy.

It is only the first game and there are all sorts of things that can go wrong, and it is foolish to get too excited about a team that has only won a single game.  Today, though, it was easy to find a lot to be excited about, a lot to be impressed with, and a lot of things that could make a person dream big dreams.  So, forgive me my enthusiasm, and allow me to say Go Big Red.

In the somewhat vaugue, beautiful words of Bob Dylan.

"It's unbelievable, it's fancy free,
So interchangeable, so delightful to see,
Turn your back, wash your hands,
There's always someone who understands
It don't matter no more what you got to say,
It's unbelievable it could go down this way."

Just wait until next year.

Ok, so I had the Cornhuskers winning the tournament, unapologetically, unabashedly, and with a great amount of pride.  I am a fan, and they are my team, it is a symbiotic relationship, but I probably get more benefit.  But, if the Cornhuskers read blogs it would be more equitable, so it is not all my fault.

But, they got beat today, it was an unfortunate game that took some unexpected twists, and a few tragic turns.  Coach Tim Miles was ejected for the first time in his coaching career, but, I won't blame the official, there will be not finger pointing on my blog, a loss is a loss, and you move on.

The referee who called the technical to eject Coach Miles was just a guy doing a job, and is only human, so we are not going to indulge in any childish name calling.

It does bring to mind an old saying from my time in India when I was working for...  well I am not really authorized to discuss who I was working for.   Anyway, there was an old Punjab saying, "Trust a cobra before you trust a Sikh, trust a Sikh before you trust a Pathan, and trust anybody, anywhere in the world before you trust a truly loathsome bastard like that."  My multi-lingual Punjabi is not that good anymore but, it was something like that.    Not that I think the official in question is loathsome, or detestable, this was just a coincidence, sometimes thoughts show up, a lot of old people have that problem.

Sorry, I slip into memories, occasionally.

In the wonderful words of the fantastic Bob Dylan;

"I'm not sorry for nothing I've done,
I'm glad I fought I only wish we won."

Anyway, this was a special season to be Cornhusker basketball fan, and next year will be even better. With that in mind I have started filling out my bracket for next seasons tournament already.  I am picking Nebraska to win it all.  But, I am not too sure who to pick from the south division, any suggestions?

Hey, somebody has to win.

Before we start today, you deserve a little explanation, a reason for the way things are done in some places.  Mostly here, and exclusively on an NCAA bracket selection sheet.  I am a fan, and root with abandon for a team.  It is a passionate rite that endures bad seasons, and rough stretches.  It is like a friendship, a relationship, a marriage or a family.  Sure, sometimes things are not perfect, and occasionally a rocky stretch will cut deep.  But, we stand together, me and the teams.  I can not pick another team to beat my team on the sheet, it would be infidelity, it would be unfaithful, it would be wrong, and then when the game took place I would have to choose between hoping my team lost, or I lost.  So, I picked Nebraska to win the NCAA tournament.

From an unnamed source and used without permission.

While filling out my brackets I took the words of Coach Miles to heart when he said "I think we're a good enough team to win the tournament."  Coach Miles does not seem to be guilty of overt, macho bravado, or rampant, wild conceit, it is a quiet confidence, at least outwardly, that drives his words.  So, I picked Nebraska to win the NCAA tournament.  

After so many years of accepting an early end to the season, and looking forward to spring football coverage, this is exciting, and the joy of possibility is a powerful force.  Things are getting better, and it is happening now.  So, I am picking the Huskers to win the NCAA tournament.

In the hauntingly appropriate words of the great Bob Dylan.

"It’s undeniable what they’d have you to think
It’s indescribable, it can drive you to drink,
They said it was the land of milk and honey
Now they say it’s the land of money
Who ever thought they could ever make that stick
It’s unbelievable you can get this rich this quick"

One of my earliest memories is, and I was just a child, when my Mother, rest her soul, took me aside at a family reunion, and said to me, "Tim, if something carries a statistical probability, no matter how slight, that does not diminish over time it will eventually happen."  Those may not have been her exact words, but it was something like that.  And, after this season, it is safe to say that the statistical probability of Nebraska winning the tournament not only did not diminish it sky rocketed.  So, while Coach Miles, and I may have the time variable a little off, we are probably pretty accurate, if not this year, one year very soon.  So, I picked Nebraska to win next years NCAA tournament.  Yes, next year, the riches just keep piling up.

And, since I feel so good about this, here is a bonus appropriate Dylan quote for the day.


"It’s unbelievable like a lead balloon
It’s so impossible to even learn the tune
Kill that beast and feed that swine
Scale that wall and smoke that vine
Feed that horse and saddle up the drum
It’s unbelievable, the day would finally come"

So, has our day finally come?  Yes, to me it has.  By the way, I like the Cornhuskers in this years big dance, who are you picking?

Things are stil going brightly.

Yesterday, Nebraska lost to Ohio State in the Big Ten tournament.  It was a close game and either team could have won.  I was disappointed that they lost, but man I love this team.  They fight hard and have climbed so much higher than people expected.  And, one way or another their season is not over.

If they do not get selected for the NCAA tournament they will certainly be a high seed in the NIT tournament.  Which would probably bring some more games to the friendly atmosphere of the very hospitable Pinnacle Bank Arena.  Either way, I will be watching, and enjoying the intense and dynamic Cornhuskers play together as often as possible.

And, when the season is over I am overflowing with confidence for the future.  Names like Parker, Petteway, Pitchford, and Shields have become welcome in our house, and in our conversations.  And, will be, we hope, for several more years.  This is a young team, and the future is filled with glorious, profound possibility and potential.

When looking back at the later part of the season I can't help but think of the Dylan lyrics;

"I got something in my pocket, make your eyeballs swim,
I got dogs that will tear you limb from limb,
I'm circling around the southern zone,
I pay in blood, but not my own."

Tim Miles is building a good team, piece by piece, and in only his second season he has done
something significant and wonderful.  He is a calm presence in front of the camera, and a tempest on the sideline.  He can coach, and he can recruit, and he can give a danged good interview, as well.

Tom Osborne hired the right man, at the right time.  We have a coach who knows how to build a winner, a new state of the art arena, a team of talented young men, who are hungry to prove that Nebrasketball is a state of being, and fans that ready for successHu.  No matter what happened yesterday it is a good time to be a Husker.

Strange, isn't it?

Last night I had the strangest dream, wonderful, but odd.  I dreamed that the Nebraska Cornhuskers beat the Wisconsin Badgers in basketball.  Weird, right?  What makes it even more unbelievable is the part of the dream where the Badgers were on eight game winning streak, including wins over ranked Iowa, and Michigan teams.  And it happened on the same day the Cornhusker Women's team beat Iowa to win the Big Ten tournament.

Here is where it gets really strange.  By winning the game Nebraska played it's way to a first round bye in the Big Ten tournament, and many people feel that the team earned an at large bid for the NCAA tournament.

Every Husker Fan Loves Terran Petteway!  Thank you Cornhuskers Men's
Basketball Facebook Page, and Thank You, Terranasaurus!

And, if that were not crazy enough, the Cornhuskers, in this amazing dream, had the leading scorer in the Big Ten, and he was only a sophomore.  Surrounding this marvelous, magical sophomore was a whole team of outlandishly talented, victory hungry, underclassmen, with more sitting on the bench.  And, they had a coach who was enthusiastic, energetic, and won everywhere.  Taking teams (like Nebraska) and turning them into winners, time after time, and he was coaching Nebraska now!!!

Man, I hated to wake up this morning.  Well, off to get some coffee, and tell my wife about this wonderful dream.

NEWS FLASH!  This just in!  Our fact checker (my wife, who is pretty smart, smart enough to know how fragile I am when discussing college basketball in March) just informed me this was no dream, but all of this really happened.

Thank you Cornhuskers Men's Basketball
Facebook Page, and Thank you  CBS And
Thank you Walter Pitchford.

Thank you Cornhuskers Men's Basketball
Facebook Page, and Thank you  CBS And
Thank you Shavon Sheilds

I know there are a lot of people who deserve a lot of credit for this dream season, but hey I was lucky to get these photos on here.  Blogger does not make that easy, you know. So, thank you all, and keep your eyes on this blog, you just might see your picture.

Something Wonderful This Way Comes.

All right, here is the scoop from last night.  Nebraska beat Penn State 80 to 67, to avenge a loss earlier in the season.  They never trailed in the game, and a quick check with the Life Explained statistician reveals that against Michigan State the last time they trailed at Michigan State was 18 to 20 with 6:06 left in the first half.  So it has been 66 minutes and 6 seconds since the Cornhuskers have trailed in a game.  That is pretty impressive, for any team.

Their conference record in seven wins and six losses, and their record in Lincoln is twelve and one.  Pretty good for a team that was supposed to finish near the bottom of the conference, and early in the league schedule some felt this might be a little too generous.

But, Coach Miles, Terran Petteway, Walter Pitchford, Shavon Shields, Ray Gallegos, the rest of the team, and I never lost hope.  We knew if we kept working hard, and when I say we, I mean them, I offer all of the emotional, and psychological support I can from 1,000 miles away, and through the medium of television, (which is not really a duplex communication medium, you know?), and I think that has helped quite a bit.

"I will meet you for a serving of nachos in the Huntington
Club level, they are always the best there, Coach."

I did email Coach Miles and told him he was doing a great job, and how much fun it was to watch his teams play, and that was before the Michigan State win, so I kind of take partial credit for the win.  He replied to my email thanking me for the support and hoping we could get together next time they were in Columbus, a friendly little meeting, just the coaches, the team, and all of the fans in attendance for the game that night.  I hope we don't have any plans.

Anyway, enough of my personal glory.

Coach Tim Miles, and his team have made this the most exciting basketball season I can remember.  For that we should all thank him.  He has started something amazing, and it is only the beginning.

Thank you, Coach Miles, and in the oh so appropriate words of Bob Dylan,

"May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation,
When the winds of changes shift,
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
And may you stay forever young"

Dylan always said best, didn't he?

The Weekend, What Life is About.

At long last it is Friday.  Friday,a gift from the heavens, a reward for having survived the week, and we did, but it was not always easy, there were a few bumps along the way, no week worth living through will allow unfettered passage.

Monday, there was snow, it had piled up, over the weekend, and it was a white curse, deep, imposing and dreadful.  Sunday, I dug out the driveway, and the sidewalk.  It was not easy, and it gave me an elevated sense self worth.  There was so much snow many of our neighbors had just left it, waiting for the inevitable central Ohio rain to come and wash it all away (coming tomorrow, coincidentally).  Monday, while I was at work the snow plow came through our neighborhood, and while clearing the streets by pushing the snow to the side of the road, managed to bury the entrance to our driveway under a cold, compressed barrier of snow.   Turning it dark, and dingy, and compacted into a substance a little like concrete, immovable, unbreakable, and, awful.  It is still there, taking its toll on our suspension, tires, and patience.

To combat snow the city sends plows to push the snow out of the way, and dump "road salt" all over the freeways, and thank goodness for that, there are enough videos showing cars spinning out of control and slamming into things already.  Nobody wants their 15 minutes of fame to come in an expensive, terrifying ballet of ice-inspired mechanical failure.  It is probably not, technically, salt, it is probably some chemical mixture, but whatever it is after a short time it covers almost everything, and everywhere you go everything you see looks ashen, grey and dead.  It's not bad enough winter is slowly strangling your will to live, but the entire city starts to look like a scene from a post apocalyptic future.  A future where some seemingly benign creation of man somehow went haywire and blocked all of the suns rays that provide color, and warmth, and life.  Personally I am betting on those cursed E-Cigarette things that are popping up all over.  All that "vapor" (vapor, yeah, right) can't be good.

Tuesday and, Wednesday brought cold, mind numbing cold that settles into your bones and stays until almost July.  In the past this was a "cold snap," or a "blast of winter" in some extreme cases it was an "arctic front," moving through.  But, with the advent of twenty four hour news, sports, and weather networks all of those sound so skimpy, so finite.  Now, it is a "Polar Vortex!"  There is a phrase that will make you zip up your jacket a little higher, pull down your stocking cap a little lower, and send local meteorologists rushing for the microphone, and a gimmick.  "It is so cold, Marybeth Anne, we are going to do the weather forecast outside tonight."  Wow, it must be cold!  I said to my wife just the other night, "look at that poor local meteorologist toiling outside in the cold, just like a sanitation engineer, or a first responder, what a brave soul."

But, now we have arrived safely at our destination, Friday, the gateway to the weekend, freedom from the alarm clock, freedom from a hurried good bye, and a mad dash to the car, freedom from the oppressive commute, and the peril involved in driving 70 miles an hour on a road filled with people who probably didn't get enough sleep, and are running a few minutes late, and are bound and determined to make up for lost time by passing everybody on the freeway, even if that requires the use of the shoulder or median, while they finish their breakfast, god, I hope it isn't pancakes today.

But, soon I will be home, safe and sound, enjoying dinner, and a recording of the Cornhuskers beating the Hoosiers in basketball,  Thank you, Coach Miles!  There is something refreshing about that guy, kind of like the weekend.