knapplc
International Man of Mystery
My heroes have always been Blackshirts.
There's something about the chaos they bring, the fierceness of a run-stuffing linebacker or the predatory aggression of a blitzing rush end, that thrills me like the offense never could. Your Mike Roziers, your Tommie Fraziers, your Rex Burkheads... they're great, and I love them all. But most of the time when they were on the field, I just wanted them to score quickly so I could get back to watching the best side of football: The hunters.
Broderick Thomas. Carlos Polk. Terry Connealy. Grant Wistrom. Ralph Brown. Kyle Vanden Bosch. Barron Miles. Danny Noonan. Mike Croel. Trev Alberts. Demorrio Williams. Kenny Walker. Jared Tomich. Keyuo Craver. Jason Peter. Fabian Washington. Terrell Farley. Mike Brown. Josh Bullocks. Barrett Ruud. Demoine Adams. Jim Skow. LeRoy Etienne. Ed Stewart. Mike Minter.
These are the guys I'm paying to see. Ready at the snap. Make your move. Open field to the ball carrier. Crush the quarterback. Stuff the run. Separate the man from the ball.
The Blackshirts were industrial-scale mayhem. There was a magic to these guys, a mystique.
Havoc and disruption, tumult and noise, fire and aggression, reveling in pandemonium and panic. They were what football was all about. They were why football was fun.
At least... they used to be. Not even that long ago, in 2009 when Suh & Crick, E-Mart & Compton, Asante & Hagg, Gomes and Amukamara all wore black in practice.
But somewhere along the way the fire went out. The joy disappeared. Even the 2009 defense fell victim to a blowout. And from there it's been... not so fun. Before 2009 it had been years since Nebraska fielded a formidable defense. Since then, it's been downright disheartening to be a Blackshirt fan.
For too long the defense have been Blackshirts in name only, bodies in a place where once stood giants.
It's been too easy, for too long, to pick on the Nebraska defense. Sure, every year we have a formidable talent in some position or other, but for every throwback Blackshirt there was always one of these guys.
Our Lupus.
There's something about the chaos they bring, the fierceness of a run-stuffing linebacker or the predatory aggression of a blitzing rush end, that thrills me like the offense never could. Your Mike Roziers, your Tommie Fraziers, your Rex Burkheads... they're great, and I love them all. But most of the time when they were on the field, I just wanted them to score quickly so I could get back to watching the best side of football: The hunters.
Broderick Thomas. Carlos Polk. Terry Connealy. Grant Wistrom. Ralph Brown. Kyle Vanden Bosch. Barron Miles. Danny Noonan. Mike Croel. Trev Alberts. Demorrio Williams. Kenny Walker. Jared Tomich. Keyuo Craver. Jason Peter. Fabian Washington. Terrell Farley. Mike Brown. Josh Bullocks. Barrett Ruud. Demoine Adams. Jim Skow. LeRoy Etienne. Ed Stewart. Mike Minter.
These are the guys I'm paying to see. Ready at the snap. Make your move. Open field to the ball carrier. Crush the quarterback. Stuff the run. Separate the man from the ball.
The Blackshirts were industrial-scale mayhem. There was a magic to these guys, a mystique.
Havoc and disruption, tumult and noise, fire and aggression, reveling in pandemonium and panic. They were what football was all about. They were why football was fun.
At least... they used to be. Not even that long ago, in 2009 when Suh & Crick, E-Mart & Compton, Asante & Hagg, Gomes and Amukamara all wore black in practice.
But somewhere along the way the fire went out. The joy disappeared. Even the 2009 defense fell victim to a blowout. And from there it's been... not so fun. Before 2009 it had been years since Nebraska fielded a formidable defense. Since then, it's been downright disheartening to be a Blackshirt fan.
For too long the defense have been Blackshirts in name only, bodies in a place where once stood giants.
It's been too easy, for too long, to pick on the Nebraska defense. Sure, every year we have a formidable talent in some position or other, but for every throwback Blackshirt there was always one of these guys.
Our Lupus.
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