A series of articlesby Brandon "Blankman" Cavanaugh.

A Fan Remembered

So here we are, yet another bye week sitting in our laps and on the minds of many in the world of College Football, rivalries are on the mind. Ohio State/Michigan, Alabama/Auburn and Harvard/Yale dot the landscape, but as I watched these games, my mind was squarely fixed on one thing: The passing of a guy who was not only one of the best Nebraska football fans I’d ever met in my life, but a man that I was proud to know and proud to call a friend. Over this season, I have spoken of many things from coaching and execution to awards and disappointments, but today, I am going to share with you the story of Daniel “Ben” Wormington.

Ben and I actually met back when I inhabited America Online message boards. You think you’ve seen passion and flamers on your boards? This bunch’d put you to shame. The thing was, as I waded through how good NU was or how badly they sucked, there was always a constant and that constant was Ben. He would always be around with a wit that was refined and at the same time, so obscure that when you did realize just what was being said, you were impressed with both he for mentioning it and yourself for figuring it out. A number of us decided to get together at that year’s Spring Game to put faces to the screen names as folks tend to do nowadays. Me being a younger Blanklette, I had no ride, but Ben offered to give me a lift down to Mecca.

Now, thing was? My father was a little wary of this whole internet thing and rightfully so. A meeting was then arranged between myself and Ben’s family so that my father could meet the man I had spoken so highly of. Well, suffice it to say my father walked in skeptical and left admiring his son’s choice of companionship. He and Ben ran the gambit from politics to humor to a common passion in all three of us: Husker football. The time eventually came and I enjoyed my first crystal clear memory in Lincoln. We, the Onlinebackers (get it?) we called ourselves, converged on a microbrewery known as Crane River which is now a Misty’s in downtown Lincoln for some chatter before and after the game. It was there I met people I’ve known for a decent period now.

This became a tradition and something I always enjoyed, but it wasn’t my only experiences with Ben. My father had become ill one weekend and we had secured tickets to go to Lincoln and watch the Cornhuskers demolish someone (yeah, it happened) and I couldn’t really find anyone to go with. Then it struck me like a snowball from Row 96: Why not go with the guy I admired so much? It’s this kind of thinking that came back to bite me in the backside later, but we’ll get to that shortly. The ride down was fantastic; Ben had burned a CD of music melding our tastes and times perfectly. We spoke like we’d known each other for years and that was another quality I loved about the guy. Not only would he talk to you, he would be genuinely interested. The man cared about EVERYONE with a truly appreciativeness in his voice and his listening.

I remember it was chilly and grey; I was probably wearing the same worn Blackshirts leather jacket I wear to this very day. The Cornhusker Marching Band was preparing to take the field for the pre game pageantry and the leaders started their very extended march towards midfield. Ben leaned in close and whispered, “Do you think those guys are from the Ministry of Silly Walks?” Yeah, the guy loved his Monty Python, too. Hard to see why I liked him so much, ain’t it? I still chuckle to myself whenever I see that sight and think back, almost like I can hear him whispering to me. We got together sporadically over the years, meeting up with folks like Denise from Omaha, Kim from California, Dan from Florida, Ray from Cleveland, Steve from Reno (at the time) and several others whose company I’ve grown to adore. Ben was always there, always joking, always smiling and always listening.

Whenever Nebraska would lose, when Armageddon came to drape the world in black for a Husker fan, Ben would be one of the few, if not THE person, whose outlook was, “Hey, it’s a game and there’s such wonderful things out there to enjoy, why let it beat you up?” I know, my paraphrasing is about as accurate as a 14 year old male stenographer at a nude co-ed debate at Cal-Berkley, but you get the gist. The point is, he always made me and several others nod, understand and wonder why we got so out of control in the first place. He helped me appreciate life and I know I’m not the only one who he had that effect on.

So now we get to the reason I’m typing this article tonight. On November 23rd, 2002, it was a very exciting time for me as I was going to be moving out of the house I had resided in for about 20 years and into a new one. The actual moving was pretty rough, but the idea of a new hovel was exhilarating. The BlankCave, as she is now known, was a welcome sight. So, I got everything set up as far as my system goes so I could check my e-mail and what not while I unpacked and got everything just the way I liked it, you know. That’s when I saw a message that boggled my mind (as easy a feat as I’m sure some of you think that is.) Ben had passed on. I thought it was a joke, some horrible misunderstanding, some silly mistake. Unfortunately, no matter how much I didn’t want to believe, it was fact.

I had lost a person that I had seen a handful of times but considered a best friend. He was there through all of the relationships he knew wouldn’t last. He was around to congratulate me when everyone else forgot. He was there for the good times and bad. Now, he was gone. It was like losing a safety net and truthfully, sometimes I still feel like I’m walking a trapeze wire without one. So what IS the point of this article? It’s vaguely NU-related, but it’s basically my opportunity to tell you this: I know it’s hackneyed, I know it’s played out, but please, take the time to let your loved ones know you care, that you love them, that you appreciate everything they do because you truly, truly never do know when your November 23rd will be.

I appreciate you all indulging me as this is more of a therapeutic action for me than anything, but hopefully, it has been somewhat enjoyable on a level of knowing what you’ve got and never taking it for granted. I know that I never will again. As sad as it may seem, I credit a lot of who I am today and how I look at life as thanks to that one man who showed me how wonderful life truly was. This article is dedicated to his memory and to all of your “Ben”s. The best of thoughts go out to each and every one of them.

Questions, commentary and anything else you’d care to share can be sent to: [email protected]

===Brandon a.k.a.Blankman #71===

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