Hype: A Cathartic, Semi-Insane Rant About Nebraska’s Upcoming Season

Posted: August 30, 2013 in Sports
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Can you feel that?

That subtle, tectonic shifting from furnace-blast Midwest summer to the first inhalations of fall?

That undertow that’s been pulling at your ankles for the past 8 months that’s suddenly gotten hungrier; stronger?

Can you hear the sounds?  Thunder-rolling crescendo as it edging away from white noise, as 1.8 million people begin symphonically warming?  As 184,000 sets of feet turn on a militarily precise dime and start heading in the same direction looking for the same thing and wearing the same colors?

When the prairie sun breaks the prairie skyline tomorrow we’ll be fully back into the most exciting time of year in the state of Nebraska.  The time of year where a sleepy college town explodes up from the paralysis of August and the comatose heat of summer-simmered dog-days like they’ve gotten a direct injection of adrenaline to their collective heart.  The time of year when the tide comes rushing in, bringing with it unrelenting passion and fervent hopes of victories in a tidal wave of Red and White and Black with capitalized letters.

There’s a vibrating, tremulous motion that’s sprung up from the dirt roads under our feet.  A humming, tingling, electrical impulse that’s suddenly thrumming through our office chairs as we stare blankly at the spreadsheet going un-sheeted and un-spread in front of our eyes.  There’s a pulsing, kick-drumming, beat that’s rising like a hot-blooded pulse the closer we get to gameday.  A dull ache, rising from magma deep that’s magma hot.  It’s the absurdly rational, human juxtaposition of anticipation for a game that’s more than a game to people who hold their college team close and their state pride closer.

It’s the pride that’s been dammed up all frost-covered winter and wet-spring and napalm summer starting to spill over the top.  Starting to crack the walls of the dam, fissures spraying and pent-up trickle turning to cascading plume of long-held excitement.

It’s the whispers of hope that dwell somewhere in the caverns of your fanhood that suddenly come echoing up from the depths, ringing like hammer-struck gong.  It’s the desire to see the team, the state, our team, our state go down onto the field and smash the misheld conception that our home is merely a grain silo filled with corn and empty pastures filled with cows with the crown of their Red and White helmets concussing the fallacies of the uninformed, concussions be damned.

It’s there, ingrained in the belief that sports can mean something, even if that means sometimes they mean a little too much.  And in the rocket-fueled dreams of on-field glory running over the cup of a million strong toasting the unbridled love of the toaster their drinking with.

It’s all there.

And even if it might seem a little crazy, even if it is crazy.

We love it.  We live it.  We’re even proud of it.

One thing’s for sure.  One irrefutable fact is lodged somewhere down deep in our aortic, Husker-bleeding arteries:  we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Go Big Red.



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