There was a moment last Saturday when the worst case scenario flashed through my head.
And it was also at that moment that I realized I had underestimated the enormity of Scott Frost's task here in Nebraska. I had to remind myself that the last time Nebraska had a team as bad as Mike Riley's 2017 team kids were doing Duck & Cover drills in class to "protect" themselves from the inevitable arrival of Soviet nuclear bombs.
I can easily imagine some Nebraska fans in 1957 sitting through some awful blowout loss looking up to the sky in the middle of the 3rd quarter and screaming "C'mon Nikita! Just nuke us already!"
Not many, myself included, took into account hard hard it is to completely erase bad habits and the mentality of going into every game expecting the lose & lose big. And while Frost and staff may have been able to put a charge of confidence into these players, when you're defending a 3rd & long with the game potentially on the line, that small cloud of doubt in the back of your mind will inevitably creep up. It's what causes the secondary and linebackers to revert to old bad habits, forget assignments and play stiff. It's this doubt on a 3rd & short late in the game that causes an offensive lineman to fire off the ball too high or not execute a pull or chip block as crisply as they should.
Erasing that doubt completely takes time and winning. Just because Frost is here doesn't mean we get to pretend there are no lingering effects from a 4-8 season.
And while most of Husker nation has taken this 0-2 start with grace and patience, others have started reverting back to old habits.
One fan on Facebook hurled a metaphorical Molotov cocktail into a crowd while screaming "FIRE THE O-LINE COACH!" at the top of his lungs. Stunningly brilliant insight from a man who doesn't even appear to know the man's name (Greg Austin).
Some were ready to start a riot, to dust off the old pitchforks and torches once again before being talked down by other fans. Force of habit, really.
And I get it. I was angry too. Nowhere near angry and delusional enough to want heads to roll, of course, but the last 15 years of Nebraska football have conditioned us to fear in the deep, far reaches of our mind that we don't like to admit exists that the bombs could fall at any moment.
For me it happened at the 2009 Iowa State game. Somewhere between Nebraska's 6th and 7th turnover I was in hysterics up in row 88 of the south end-zone, screaming through tears that this Nebraska team was no better than the 2007 team. In my mind the bombs were falling. It was a scene of chaos. Mushroom clouds were forming on the horizon while the Husker offense did their best Oprah impersonation, throwing out gifts to any Cyclone they could find.
Complete and utter annihilation was on its way. (See how I tied that all together???)
But just like in the 1950s, the bombs never actually came no matter how inevitable they seemed. The failed Mike Riley Experiment was our own personal Bay of Pigs Invasion and the 2017 season was our Cuban Missile Crisis. Like that hypothetical fan from 1957, I was ready to be put out of my misery in the 3rd quarter of that Ohio State game. Our beloved football program was pushed to the brink of annihilation, but in the 11th hour the nuclear strike was called off.
Scott Frost was called in to save the day. And while we may not want to hear it, bumps in the road are natural. And while that old familiar feeling of imminent doom may have crept back into our minds last Saturday, I can assuredly tell you the bombs are not coming.
At least not the metaphorical ones. Couldn't tell you about the real ones.
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And it was also at that moment that I realized I had underestimated the enormity of Scott Frost's task here in Nebraska. I had to remind myself that the last time Nebraska had a team as bad as Mike Riley's 2017 team kids were doing Duck & Cover drills in class to "protect" themselves from the inevitable arrival of Soviet nuclear bombs.
I can easily imagine some Nebraska fans in 1957 sitting through some awful blowout loss looking up to the sky in the middle of the 3rd quarter and screaming "C'mon Nikita! Just nuke us already!"
Not many, myself included, took into account hard hard it is to completely erase bad habits and the mentality of going into every game expecting the lose & lose big. And while Frost and staff may have been able to put a charge of confidence into these players, when you're defending a 3rd & long with the game potentially on the line, that small cloud of doubt in the back of your mind will inevitably creep up. It's what causes the secondary and linebackers to revert to old bad habits, forget assignments and play stiff. It's this doubt on a 3rd & short late in the game that causes an offensive lineman to fire off the ball too high or not execute a pull or chip block as crisply as they should.
Erasing that doubt completely takes time and winning. Just because Frost is here doesn't mean we get to pretend there are no lingering effects from a 4-8 season.
And while most of Husker nation has taken this 0-2 start with grace and patience, others have started reverting back to old habits.
One fan on Facebook hurled a metaphorical Molotov cocktail into a crowd while screaming "FIRE THE O-LINE COACH!" at the top of his lungs. Stunningly brilliant insight from a man who doesn't even appear to know the man's name (Greg Austin).
Some were ready to start a riot, to dust off the old pitchforks and torches once again before being talked down by other fans. Force of habit, really.
And I get it. I was angry too. Nowhere near angry and delusional enough to want heads to roll, of course, but the last 15 years of Nebraska football have conditioned us to fear in the deep, far reaches of our mind that we don't like to admit exists that the bombs could fall at any moment.
For me it happened at the 2009 Iowa State game. Somewhere between Nebraska's 6th and 7th turnover I was in hysterics up in row 88 of the south end-zone, screaming through tears that this Nebraska team was no better than the 2007 team. In my mind the bombs were falling. It was a scene of chaos. Mushroom clouds were forming on the horizon while the Husker offense did their best Oprah impersonation, throwing out gifts to any Cyclone they could find.
 |
| Exactly how I remember it. |
Complete and utter annihilation was on its way. (See how I tied that all together???)
But just like in the 1950s, the bombs never actually came no matter how inevitable they seemed. The failed Mike Riley Experiment was our own personal Bay of Pigs Invasion and the 2017 season was our Cuban Missile Crisis. Like that hypothetical fan from 1957, I was ready to be put out of my misery in the 3rd quarter of that Ohio State game. Our beloved football program was pushed to the brink of annihilation, but in the 11th hour the nuclear strike was called off.
Scott Frost was called in to save the day. And while we may not want to hear it, bumps in the road are natural. And while that old familiar feeling of imminent doom may have crept back into our minds last Saturday, I can assuredly tell you the bombs are not coming.
At least not the metaphorical ones. Couldn't tell you about the real ones.
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