Something for the Huskers

[ohiohusker]

I think I've posted this before and it's long, but gives me goose-bumps every time I read it. Really makes me homesick but pumped up for the football season! Hope you all enjoy it as much as I do!

 

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 lanes 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 couldn’t 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 visit, 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.

You 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 hundreds 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 pre-game 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! and

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

 

Go Huskers!!!

[AR Husker Fan]

Can we get an "AMEN" from the Choir?

[Drowning_in_the_Sea_of_Red]

Amen!

[HuskerNCo]

AMEN!!!!!

GOOSEBUMPS (and I just shaved my legs damn it!)

Man I can not wait for Saturday!!!

[Eric the Red]

AMEN!!!

[BLKSHIRTD]

that has to be the best dam thing that i have ever read.

Its true theres nothing like watching a husker game no matter where you are with friends and family or at Memorial Stadium

[admo]

AMEN brothas and sistas!!!!!!! AMEN!!