"Something for the Huskers...."

[ohiohusker]

I just got this from my cousin..........sure hits home for me!!

 

 

 

Here is a little something for all the Huskers,

>

> It's more than the game, really. I think it means more for out-of-staters

> too. At least for those who don't live in or get to lincoln much. It's more

> than simply going back home. It's a sense of renewal, of reinvigoration, of

> reconnecting to things in life which drive you and make you wait for this

> day like a child waits for Christmas.

>

> it's about flying in, descending slowly over the yellowing cornfields,

> gazing out the window, looking at your watch impatiently, until you get

> close enough to see the Missouri River, and you start to feel at home again.

> You land, and wait anxiously to deplane and upon the first burst of light in

> the terminal as you leave the tunnel, you instinctively look at the faces,

> as if you'll see someone you know, even though no one is there waiting for

> you.

>

> You take the familiar walk to your rental car, and drive down past Carter

> Lake, a drive you've made 300 times before-at first, as a teen to go to the

> drag races out on the old, distant, ! dark la nes ending out beyond Dodge

> Park when nothing else was there, and now, the other way, down a nicely

> manicured road, and as you do, you catch your first glimpse of the downtown

> skyline. You see the Woodmen Tower and other familiar trappings of a city

> nicely grown up, one you're proud of and seems both imposingly new yet still

> familiar to you since you left for good 20 years ago.

>

> You drive past the new Qwest Center and Hotel, feeling proud that the city

> that couldnt attract major shows now is a destination for them. You think of

> the Old Civic Auditorium, the old barn where you took in your first NBA

> game, watching Nate Archibald work his magic, and where you saw your first

> concert, on Crosby Stills Nash and Young's last tour together. Your mind

> drifts to watching Baron Von Raschke vs Mad Dog Vachon wrestling for the

> Heavyweight Championship, the first time your mom ever let you ride the bus

> downtown by yourself to go somewhere.

>

> Suddenly, something yanks you back! to the present, driving down Dodge St

> past all the old familiar 2 am destinations when you had to cover one eye to

> read the signs in days of yore. Past the old Ready Mix Plant, past UNO and

> Memorial Park, and you're almost there, in your old neighborhood. You get to

> 72nd and Dodge, which to you, is still the Center of the Universe, as it was

> for you growing up, even though today, it's considered "east omaha" almost.

>

> Then the familiar drive past the old house, by Crossroads and down where

> Peony Park used to be, the Goodrich Malt store and Roberts Park. You think

> of family and friends you'll see at some point during the vist, and of

> family you miss and that you can only see in your heart. You wish they could

> be there with you, and with you share the eager sense of anticipation, that

> special pre-fall ever so slight cool in the air at night as September

> approaches. A touch of sadness comes and goes as you remember how long it

> has been since you last shared such feelings with t! hem.

>

> You feel grounded again.

>

> On Saturday, though, your step is light, your senses sharp, your emotions

> bubbling up and a sense, again this year, of renewal, that whatever happened

> in the past year, you're turning the page today, because it's time for a new

> year, a new season. At least that's the way it is for Huskers.

>

> Then, the drive. It's 45 minutes, but seems like an instant. you savor it

> yet it seems to pass too quickly. The first drive of the fall down I-80,

> past Sapp Brothers, weaving through whatever construction they've put in

> your path this year. You notice the rural country side and landscape, and

> how much more comfortable it feels to you than other places. You cross the

> Platte River in what seems like no time, signifying that you're half way

> there, time to turn on KFAB, just because that's what you do and have done

> for decades before. Then, you hit the familiar "Waverly Curve" where I-80

> kisses Highway 6, and you know you're in the home stretch.

> yo u finally get to Exit 401, and that's when your pulse starts to quicken.

> You can feel it again, the adrenaline. Your mind races with all the times

> you've made this drive before, and what you saw when you did.

>

> Tearing down goalposts after conquering the Sooner Jinx, Mike Rozier

> slashing bowlegged through what seemed like statues then. Johnnie Mitchell

> making fingertip catches on a day when you couldn't feel your hands. Tommie

> Frazier and LP making you realize that, all those years when you said "some

> year"-well, that year was here. Blackshirts' wreckage strewn across the

> astroturf. Eric Crouch bringing you to tears hauling in the pass on a day

> you thought would never happen again.

>

> All those things run through your mind as you watch your speed carefully,

> down the highway, until--look--there it is, to your left, that huge, gray,

> sturdy, impenetrable facade, with the huge N, telling you that, indeed, you

> were home again.

>

> In days past, you'd park in yards or! alleys for 5 bucks. Now, you park in

> parking garages and see the same folks, every year, who welcome you back and

> take your money. You get out and start walking, almost trotting anxiously,

> because you want to be on the street. You want to see older folks wearing

> the hats, and overalls, and other things that you swear you'll never wear,

> but laugh to yourself because you're thinking in the back of your mind,

> someday you probably will too. The traffic cops, the lines at Barry's, the

> people window shopping or just sight seeing. The smell. The feel. You can

> close your eyes and see it as it is today, and as it was in 1975 too.

>

> And finally, the best part of all, the walk. from wherever you choose to

> prepare before the game, the walk is what you feel in your blood, what you

> think about on the plane, what you've waited for all winter, spring and

> through the dead of summer. You try to see and sense almost everything, but

> cannot. But as you walk down 10th St, seemingly en masse with h! undreds of

> others, you see the party tent on your right with the same van and satellite

> dish you've seen for 20 years. You hear music, and fight songs, and GO

> HUSKERS and GO BIG RED. Your heart skips a beat, or two. You catch yourself

> smiling. You get closer until, on your right, there it is.

>

> Memorial Stadium.

>

> And as you walk up the tunnel to get inside the stadium, as you walk up the

> stairs and get closer, you can see the sun and hear some of the pregame on

> the field, and when you finally emerge into the stadium, you take a deep

> breath and absorb what seems like a transfusion of life force. You stop, if

> only momentarily, to simply stare and see everything again. You swell with

> emotion, yet strangely try to hide it, because that's what Nebraskans do.

>

> And when you're finally seated, and the Pride of All Nebraska finally bursts

> onto the field, you let it go...8 months of frustration, waiting, boredom,

> drain---everything, and you soak in Hail Varsity, March Grand! ioso an d

> There is No Place Like Nebraska like the desert soaks up a cloudburst.

>

> Go Huskers!!!

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[rawhide]

Substitute Lincoln and I'm home.

 

 

THX

 

 

GBR