A series of articles
by Brandon "Blankman" Cavanaugh.
EMERGENCY COMMUNIQUE TRANSMITTING****
Dear Mr. Stoops,
THAT, sir, is how you do it.
****WE NOW RETURN
YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED ARTICLE****
Okay, I admit it. I was a bad Husker fan. Yep, believe
it or not, Blankmaniacs, Mr. Positive and Courteous was a bad wittle
Husker. I stood when others sat. I frequently got into smack contests
with the Pokes. I made noise and I even booed, yes, booed when OSU
came running on to the field. “We don’t boo!” a
mid-30s couple in front of me turned and said. They were handing out
frowns like rich men did nickels back in the 1930s or so I’m
told. “We’re Husker Fans!” they said (capitalization
provided because it was just the smarmy way they came off. As a cock-eyed
“Whatchu Talkin’ Bout Willis” smirk crossed my face,
I had a feeling that sweet, sweet irony would not be far behind.
And then it happened.
As the second quarter wound down and the Husker offense
looked rather anemic, they booed. They booed when Jammal Lord sunk
a few passes into the FieldTurf and they booed when NU set up for
a field goal. Not to mention when Sandro banked the shot off of the
upright, the wrong way no less. We’re Husker Fans, indeed. It
seems that after several months of being poked and prodded, shocked
and teased, the collective known as the “Husker Nation”
or “Corngrigation”, whatever you like, grew some…how
shall I put it? Intestinal Fortitude.
And they LIKED it.
Mr. and Mrs. Husker Fans’ treats for the day
weren’t over after the smattering of boo birds, however. Blankman
found a few partners in crime. Not for booing, mind you, but for being
an ACTUAL Cornhusker fan. One who defends something we used to know
as home-field advantage. One who doesn’t let the offense think
and one who shuts the hell up when the O is on the field, barring
a big play, of course. Aided by these fellow Section 17 souls, the
South Stadium went from tea party to free for all. Josh Fields couldn’t
hear himself chalk up Rashaun’s Heisman votes and eventually,
he coddled the football like an Afghani mother protecting her young
from a barrage of Nutragrain bars and pop tarts while he was firmly
planted into the ground.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was a start, folks.
It seems most everyone got some swagger back, that old Nebraska mystique
that came at the expense of Oklahoma Lite. The O-line, the I-backs,
the Blackshirts and even sweet old Memorial Stadium herself. I shed
tears folks, because I was proud. Proud to see no quit in either the
team or her fans. Proud because I knew even when things looked so
2002 in the first half, I had an inkling Double B (That’s Bo
and Barney) would cram their feet up a few posteriors and things would
be looking a lot more 2K3ish come the second half. I got lucky this
time, I’ll admit it. “That’s what I get for having
faith in something” turned into…well…”That’s
what I get for having faith in something!”
The crowd with stick-em on their hands turned into
a froth. Bones were thrown, metal was thrown up as well, posters were
crushed underfoot, voices were lost and everyone loved every second
of it. It was raw, it was emotional and, dare I say, it was WILLED
by those 800+ alumni in attendance. They wouldn’t let this team
lose and I think that now the confidence is there, at least a little,
this team won’t allow it either.
There’s some work to be done, don’t get
me wrong, but it’s a start. It’s a foundation laid and
we can all take solace in something. Some THINGS, actually. Like 1-0,
17-7, winning season openers since 1985, etc. Enjoy this one, folks.
It wasn’t pretty, as I said, but it was a win and at this point?
I think that’s pretty positive in itself.
and requests for pictures can be sent to Blankman71@cox.net
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