Let The Football Begin

I read an article over the weekend that said for many, spring is the season of renewal and rebirth, but Nebraska Cornhusker fans come alive in the fall. Each autumn, we don the red apparel, tune our radios to the pregame show, and wait anxiously for the first shoe to meet ball, sending the pigskin high into the air over the green field of Memorial Stadium.

Football Saturdays are a type of religion for fans of the Big Red. We worship the tradition, we pray for a win, and we tithe to the vendors selling slices of Valentino's pizza.

The pinnacle of Nebraska fanhood is the coveted "season ticket", and we were lucky enough to score those holy seats a few years ago in a stadium expansion. On football Saturdays, we join 80,000 of our closest friends, tightly clutching our red balloons and waiting for the first touchdown. We learn the names of the folks crammed into the seats next to us, we discover their favorite swear words, and we high-five the big plays despite the threat of swine flu.

We study the starting line-ups until we're familiar enough to call the players by their first names, spot their parents on the sidelines, and wonder if the kid is doing okay in biology class. We know how the coach feels the game is going by watching the speed of his gum chewing. And we leave the stadium after a 49-3 win grumbling about how our pass defense could use some work.

I'm proud to be from a red state, and I'm not talking politics. Football season is here, and the crisp autumn air signals the arrival of tailgate parties, Blackshirts, and Big 12 Championship hopes. Go Big Red.