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.

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.”

Fishing and Other Monday Problems.

While Tim is off taking a class on Self Editing it seemed like an ideal time to stop by and tell you how much he needed a class on Self Editing. He could use it as a writer, and as a person. Get a couple of bourbons or even a couple of cups of coffee and he can go on and on about the minute differences between the hazards of flying and the danger of commuting.

After a while I was afraid to get in the car. I didn't say anything about it, because he has some startling statistics on the number of pedestrians involved in accidents. There is a small folder sitting inside his pedestrian collision folder detailing the number of people who had collisions with cows while walking. It seems most of them were walking in fields, but he says that counts, and it is his folder.

And don't even get him started on luxury cruises. Unless you have the time, inclination and nutritional requirements to set through the Power Point presentation. He seems to believe the Bermuda Triangle is actually more of a sphere, from one pole to the other and covering every body of water, including Lake Maloney, in North Platte, NE. It is one more reason to hate climate change.

It is hard to imagine the good he could have done if he would have worked that hard in school, if he would have used his power for good instead of evil.

Well, my day is almost done, the parts have been cut, and assembled, the bills have been posted, and the sunshine is calling my name. I am off to the Lake for a little fishing and relaxing, thank goodness I am the world's worst fisherman, it is a lot more relaxing if you don't catch anything. Don't believe everything you read, unless you read it here, would we lie to you.

Dreams Interrupted, Why,, oh Why?

It was the strangest thing, a day that started with a quiet, gentle rain shower. It was kind of peaceful, and kind of jarring. A peaceful dream of rolling hills, missed exits and giant, monolithic facades carved into the hillsides of Eastern Nebraska was interrupted by the polite pitter patter of the refreshing spring rain.

It was an odd dream. I was driving across Eastern Nebraska by myself, in my car (a RAV4). We are from Nebraska so it is not that odd, but we don't go there often so it is kind of odd. I never go by myself so that is a little odd. But my car is a lot better than my wife's car so that is not too odd.

I missed an exit, which is not strange, I miss exits, turns, landmarks all the time. I took the next exit, which is normally my reaction to a missed exit, and I have a lot of experience. But, I missed the ramp back on the freeway, which is a little unusual. I am so experienced at ending up in the wrong place starting over is almost as natural as starting.

Then, in my dream, I improvised, which is not that strange, because improvising is what gets me so many places that are not the destination. I went cross country, reasoning, in my dream that I have a four wheel drive vehicle, which is a little strange, I do have four wheel drive but I never use it, it just came on the car. I would never use it to cut across a field to get back on the highway.

And here is where it got strange. It was not just cutting across a field, it was driving up the side of snow covered hill, a big hill. Bigger than most of the hills in the part of Eastern Nebraska that I was dreaming about driving through. On the top of the big hill was a small path, not a freeway, just a small road, barely big enough for my car. So, I drove along the narrow road, on top of the snow covered hill until it became so narrow that there was no longer enough room for my car.

I had no choice, I started backing up. which is not normal at all, because I am awful driving

backwards, even worse than when I drive forward which is an adventure. If this had happened in real life I would probably be forced to leave my car, and walk back to Ohio. I love my car, but leaving it would be much better than backing off the side of the cliff the hill had become and dying in the flaming wreck at the bottom.

But here is where it gets odd. As I was backing up I noticed a huge, ornate, exquisite, wonderfully detailed building carved out of the mountain side, the mountainside in eastern Nebraska. Which is odd, there are no mountains in Nebraska. Even if there were nobody would have spent the time to carve such a masterpiece out of the stone.

Naturally, I stopped backing my car along the harrowing, dangerous single lane mountain top road and got out to take a picture. Which is exactly what I would do if confronted by something so odd, so that is not odd, at all. But, the rain woke me up before I could take the picture. Dammit, I was so close. It was so cool, you would not believe it. But, you will have to trust me.

It's potty time

It was a great idea, and one that should have been further developed. Nobody has really gone to the trouble of rating Interstate Rest Areas. These expensive, vital links to interstate travel and commerce are unreported, and frankly vary widely in quality, and amenities. It seemed time that someone begin the toil, and labor that would be involved in such a worthwhile endeavor.  I never planned on reviewing them all, just get the ball rolling.  And, then anyone who travels anywhere could submit a review of the rest areas they used.  Sort of a Yelp or Trip Adviser, for bathroom breaks.

But, as with so many revolutionary ideas this one died on the vine when my wife and son refused to stop unless someone needed to stop.  And then it was kind of rushed without time to fully evaluate the offerings.  So, we only have a small sampling, and there is no real organization. Honestly organization is not really a strength, though, so it probably is not all her fault.

So, here goes.  There is a rest area just east of Rapid City, sitting right on a river, though I don't really know which river, that is very nice, and clean.  The attendant was pleasant and polite, but the vending area was a little skimpy.  And the river was in danger of flooding out the entire area, but I don't suppose you can blame the rest area for that.  If you are traveling on Interstate 90, and happen to be slightly east of Rapid City, west of Wall, stop in (unless it is flooded) with confidence.

West of Kearney, outside vending machines.
What are we, animals?

Nebraska, along Interstate 80, had a variety of quality in the rest stop offering.  If you can wait, I would.  Don't stop anywhere west of Grand Island.  The areas in the eastern third are much newer, with vending areas that are inside, which is much nicer when deciding between cookies and a candy bar, or chips and crackers.

Iowa seems to be upgrading, so you are kind of safe anywhere, but only on Interstate 80, don't use the old ones on I29.

Illinois, the Rest Stop State

Illinois is a safe place to use any facility.  They have trails, and attractions, like a Metro Park, with elaborate vending areas, right inside the sumptuous main buildings.  Indiana and Ohio, well just don't bother.  Just wait until the next state.

Here is the first installment of the Rest Areas of America.  We will continue this during our next trip, we are dedicated Interstate travelers.  If you would like to submit a review, just send it along.

A brief update, for what it's worth.

We are at T-minus four.  T being our Trip this coming Friday to Louisville to watch the Cardinals play, (L1C4), and four is the number of times we have to haul ourselves out of bed at the screaming, incessant urging of the alarm clock, and drag ourselves to work.  You know, I really like my job, and actually enjoy going to work, but damn, I hate the alarm clock.  I can't be the only one who detests the intrusive, blaring, jarring assault of the alarm clock.  Science should really look into this, it might be a national problem.  But, we are here to talk about happier things, like loading into the car driving three hours, or so, down Interstate 71 and watching Louisville win a basketball game.

It is going to be kind of a quick trip, down on Friday, back on Saturday, my oldest son has to work on Saturday evening, and he is very responsible, it must come from his Mother, but there will still be time for a side trip to Jungle Jim's in Cincinnati, and I have decided to look for a "I'd rather be drinking Bourbon" coffee mug,  So, if you know where I can find one on Friday evening leave a comment and let me know.

I am thinking of emailing coach Rick Pitino to let him know I will be at the game this Friday.  He was happy to hear that we were going to the game last year, he even emailed me, from his iPhone.  Of course, I emailed him first, but I think he was happy to hear from me.  I am a blogger, after all, you know.  And I have tens of followers, and that carries some weight.

In a bit of a news flash, Nebraska won against Florida State in basketball, in Tallahassee.  It may not be all that impressive, but it makes me happy.  I might have to email Coach Miles my congratulations, he will be so happy.  He emailed me last year, in case I didn't mention that.

Anyway, it is late, I am tired, and starting to ramble, more than normal.  Go Cards, Go Big Red, and enjoy the week, it is the last one for a while.

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.

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."

Sports, it is not just a game, maybe.

I am a college sports fan, I don't care much for pro sports, but college football and basketball are great distractions for me.   Like any fan, I have my favorite team, and watch, and root enthusiastically for, them whenever I can.   But, there are others I root for, and want to win.  I like the games, and the competition, and the sport.  There are few games, in either sport, no matter who is playing that I can't watch, and enjoy.

College football is winding down and my favorite team is going to a bowl game (a reward for a winning season), but not the conference championship, which is unfortunate, but not tragic.  They lost too many games to qualify for that opportunity, which is ok, they had a lot of injuries, and at times did not play as well as fans might have hoped.  All in all, though, it was a great season, with many exciting moments, and a few losses, but life is filled with ups and downs, and so are games.

Recently, someone asked if I felt conditions in the world of college football had changed so drastically that my favorite team was destined to be a middle of the pack competitor, and would never return to the horror of lofty expectations that haunt so many teams.  It wasn't phrased exactly that way, but, you get the drift.

That is a very difficult question, with many possible answers, but the best I could muster, was "I haven't really thought about it that much.  I watch the game, root for my team, and when they lose I feel sad, for a while, and when they win I am happy, for a while, but either way I am still a fan, and soon move on to other things."  This might be ADD, or a deluded sense of self importance, or maybe just a healthy dose of indifference, who knows?   But, when pressed for an answer after a loss, I always quote the wisdom of Bill Russell, "it wasn't because they weren't trying."

It was a good season for my favorite team, maybe not great, but good, and as is often the case after a good season, there was a lot of talk about firing the coach.  The athletic director said he was not firing the coach, and was looking forward to his continued leadership.  This was a good sign.

There is so much emphasis on winning, on championships, on perfect seasons it really drags a lot of fun out of the games.  And with every misstep during a season fans, and sports show hosts on radio and television cry in anguish, screaming for blood, or at least retribution in the form of a very public dismissal.  Coaches and teams are held hostage to demanding, unrealistic standards.  Sometimes, as a casual fan, the venom gets a little tiring, but as Arnold Bennet said, "pessimism, when you get used to it, is just as agreeable as optimism."

It is always enlightening to talk with fans after a game, win or lose, they can dissect a game and critique every flaw, each coaching mishap, no matter how well planned or thought out, is fodder for public, acidic discussion.  He should have called a screen pass, he should have run up the middle, they shouldn't have blitzed in that situation, why didn't they blitz, For the Love of God, How Could They Be So Stupid???  And they players fare no better, these young men, who have dedicated such a disproportionate amount of their life to becoming skilled enough to participate at this level are routinely roasted for drops, misses and mistakes.  And this is by fans.

So, I salute the University of Nebraska and the Athletic Director for standing by a winning coach, if that sounds like an odd statement you are obviously not a fan.  And congratulations to Coach Pelini on his continued employment, I am happy that our are going to a bowl game, it wasn't that long ago we stayed home.  And congratulations to all fans everywhere who root for teams through wins and losses.  And mostly I salute the players who leave so much on the field every week, it has been great fun, and I am awed by your talent.

A brief re-creation of our trip to the spring game in Lincoln

Here is a short film, depicting our recent trip to the Spring Game in Lincoln. It is only minutes and four seconds long, though, you will probably feel it was much longer, if you watch the whole thing. It would be a good idea to turn down the volume, I like music loud.

Please enjoy, or at least tolerate, and smile politely.

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Location:Somewhere in the midwest.