Tales from the Heart of Huskerland

It's just a game. I always detested that phrase. Imprudently shoved in your face by a bewildered family member or someone else close to you who just doesn't get this whole Nebraska football obsession or why it's cause for so much agony and vitriol. I hated that phrase because there's some truth to it. But also because it's horribly wrong. Completely and totally 100 percent false. This phrase frustrated me endlessly and I didn't quite know how to explain why. It is just a game. That is technically true. But Nebraska fandom is a far cry from a game of checkers. A simple game does not foster such a large, organic community of people that share such a powerful common interest. A common interest that instantly makes friends out of strangers and breaks down barriers. Sports fandom is the only thing I've ever encountered in my entire life that gets Republicans and Democrats to actually get along for a few hours. And some think it's just a game. A c

Sometime in the 2030s...  "Dad, tell me again about the Hy-Vee Heroes Trophy!" "Well son. Once upon a time Hy-Vee's marketing team decided they wanted to..." BOORRRRRRRINNNNG.  Way to take all the fun out of a rivalry trophy. Trophies that only exist for the sole purpose of being fun. The $5 Bits of Broken Chair Trophy is the only real rivalry trophy Nebraska is playing for this season as far as I'm concerned. That's not a declaration of who Nebraska's rivals are, but a critique of the actual trophies themselves. The $5 Bits of Broken Chair Trophy is the only one that's actually fun. The only one that has a story behind it worth telling. Not only does it have a great origin story, the bizarre nature of it demands its telling every time someone new hears about it. What a freaking crazy concept for a rivalry trophy, right? And don't get me wrong. I appreciate the gesture of the Heroes Trophy to honor heroes from both Iowa and N

"There were just Cornhusker people. Cornhusker people everywhere." In Chicago for my company's annual meeting about a year ago, one of my Chicago colleagues tried to describe her one time being in Lincoln, Nebraska, which so happened to be a game-day. The exact quote sticks vividly in my mind because of the way she described it. The thousand yard stare (which I admit is probably my memory being hyperbolic) she wore on her face was priceless as she attempted to put the Sea of Red into words, describing it as if she were in the middle of a horror movie in which the protagonist has to wade their way through a swarm of rabies infected rats to get out of the cellar. I don't consider that an insult to Husker fans. I get it. She doesn't care a lick about sports and the horror of unexpectedly having to wade your way through one of the biggest crowds you've ever seen in your life in the middle of Lincoln, Nebraska of all places makes it a damn funny comparison.