College Football Nirvana

There's no crying in baseball.

But for Nebraska football fans, reading this blog post by Louisiana-Lafayette's radio play-by-play announcer may have brought on some misty eyes. May, hell.

WHAT JAY WALKER wrote did cause more than a few of us to well up a bit:

I've been to nine SEC stadiums. (I'll go to a tenth next season at Georgia.) I've seen the grove at Ole Miss, experienced the Gator Chomp, the Mississippi State cowbells, been a part of Alabama football in both Birmingham and Tuscaloosa. I've been called "Tigerbait" in Baton Rouge and experienced some pretty good hospitality in South Carolina.

I've said hello to the folks at Illinois and Minnesota. Felt September heat in Tempe, AZ.

Been to Manhattan, Lubbock, Austin, Stillwater and College Station. College Station was probably the best. Folks say "Howdy" when they see you. And they say "welcome."

Haven't been to the Horseshoe, the Big House or Happy Valley. Nor have I seen Touchdown Jesus.

But I've been to College Football Nirvana.

It's located in Lincoln, Nebraska.

From the time we touched down ("Welcome to Lincoln," the police officers doing the escort said) to the time we left the stadium ("Thanks so much for coming, have a safe trip home. We hope you'll come back again") every Cajun fan felt like a guest.

That's right. A guest. Not the opposition...not the enemy....a guest.

Check into the Cornhusker Marriott, not far from campus. Fans of Big Red Nation are already there. Smiles, handshakes....welcome to Lincoln. Good luck tomorrow.

Board the bus for dinner. Arrive at Misty's, Lincoln's famous steakhouse (I mean, you gotta eat a steak, right?). There were about 25 in our party. We had to wait about twenty minutes for them to get everything ready. No problem. As soon as the patrons saw the Cajun gear, they wanted to talk...introduce themselves....welcome to Lincoln....thanks so much for coming. Hope you enjoy the game.....

Is this for real??

And, it continued throughout the evening and into the night. We made lots of friends. We Cajun people make friends pretty easily, but it's even easier when folks want to be friends.

In Lincoln, they all want to be your friend.

Gameday is different in Lincoln. They tailgate, sure....but it's tougher because, well, there's just not a lot of tailgaiting spots. But they do open the soccer field next to the stadium. Families can let the kids roam free. Nebraska radio does a pregame show there. And, a band plays during the commercial breaks.

I did an interview at the soccer field with the Nebraska radio folks. And then, had a pretty good trek to the media entrance. At each gate, the sight was the same. Hundreds lined up, waiting for the gates to open so they could get into the stadium and watch their team warm up.

By the time Nebraska came out, about 45 minutes before kickoff, the stadium was about 65% full. There was no "hey, let's stay outside and pound a few more beers."

Because it was gameday. And they came to see football.

By the time the band was ready to come out, 86,000 strong were in their seats. They stood and clapped along when the Cornhusker Band played "Fight on Cajuns" to honor their guests. And when the band played "There is no Place Like Nebraska" I knew that the statement was true.

WALKER GETS IT. Nebraska is a special place, and game day in Lincoln is something akin to the concentrated essence of a state.

And, at least in Nebraska circles, the Louisiana blog post has gone viral. It's even featured on Huskers.com.

I think I know what came over the Cajuns' radio guy. It happened to me in 1983.
Actually, it really started in high school in Baton Rouge, when a Nebraska-native buddy would sing the praises of his home state at every opportunity. And it built a few years later when -- as a student at Louisiana State -- I started following the Cornhuskers in addition to my LSU Tigers.

I was hooked in Miami at the 1983 Orange Bowl, when the Huskers beat LSU 21-20 and I couldn't quite decide who the hell to pull for. But I was awfully happy Nebraska won and knew I had to get to this special place out on the Plains.

THAT YEAR, I took some time off from college and -- somehow -- landed a spring and summer reporting job at the North Platte Telegraph. There, I made friends for life and got the equivalent of a graduate degree in community journalism before I even had finished by BA at LSU.

Out in the Sandhills, I fell in love with Nebraska and knew this place would someday be home. It didn't hurt that I fell in love with the Telegraph's wire editor.

And one fine day in early August, I asked her to be my wife. In Lincoln. In the shadow of Memorial Stadium. At NU's football picture day.

So, I married the pretty wire editor in North Platte on the day we packed up a red Nissan Sentra with Nebraska 15-county plates and a red Chevy Vega with a Louisiana plate and an NU window decal. We then headed south for my final 27 credit hours at LSU and her introduction to culture shock, Tiger football . . . and a year of lame jokes about the state tree of Nebraska being a telephone pole.

Sometimes in Baton Rouge, life can be one big "Tiger bait!" when you're "not from around here." Even when you're nowhere near Tiger Stadium.

SOME 26 YEARS LATER, Nebraska is home. Has been for the last 21 of them -- just like I knew it would. And it all started with Big Red football . . . and with the classy fans who so love "dear old Nebraska U."

As folks say today, Nebraska fans "represent." No matter where they are, they make present what is so special about this place we call home.

And you never know where something like that will lead.

P.S.: Thanks for coming, Cajun fans . . . happy to hear y'all passed a good time.

Come again soon; bring andouille. I'll get the gumbo started -- best in Omaha.

And because your play-by-play man is such a stand-up fella, this LSU grad will never call UL-Laf(ayette) "You'll Laugh" again. Nebraska is wearing off on me.

There is no place like Nebraska

On Nov. 3, 1962, I was a year and a half old.

One month earlier, Wally Schirra took his Mercury space capsule, Sigma 7, for a seven-orbit spin around the earth.

And President John F. Kennedy had exactly 1 year, 19 days to live.

That fall day in 1962, a formerly woebegone football team, the University of Nebraska Cornhuskers, was showing signs of life under brand-new Coach Bob Devaney. And when the Huskers took the field against Missouri in Lincoln, it was before -- ye gods! -- a full house of 31,080 spectators.

Big Red lost 16-7 that Space Age afternoon but -- Man, woman and child! -- NU would be packing them in the aisles (and every available seat) for the next 47 years. And counting.

THOSE FOUR DECADES-PLUS would include five national championships and two coaching legends -- the late Devaney and Tom Osborne, now a former coach-turned-congressman-turned-NU athletic director. Those decades also would include the Steve Pederson/Bill Callahan years, when we wondered not whether the sellout streak would end but after which embarrassing loss.

But it didn't end. Unbelievably, but there you go.

Bad athletic directors and coaches sometimes come, but Cornhusker fans weren't going anywhere. The university over the years expanded Memorial Stadium to 86,000-plus seats, and Nebraskans kept filling them all.

And the fans in the stands above the visiting team's entrance kept giving "the enemy" a standing ovation at game's end -- win, lose or Callahan Era. Because there really is no place like Nebraska.

Where they're all true blue,
We'll all stick together,
In all kinds of weather,
For dear old Nebraska U.

This is the place -- and the football program -- the Sunday World-Herald commemorated with a special "throwback," 1962-style "Blue Streak Sports Section," where readers got details of the Huskers' 55-0 waxing of Louisiana-Lafayette just like they might have back when The Streak began. I well remember when sports sections were just like that . . . and it was fun to go back.

Just like it was fun for fans to "go back" with retro fashions for a retro-themed game Saturday. Josefina Loza was there for the newspaper:

Lincolnite Mike McDannel planned a special outfit for this day. The 49-year-old wore a red velvet blazer and matching fedora, a red tie with the word “Nebraska” embroidered in white and socks with tiny N's covering them. His retro digs once were worn by his father, Donald, who passed away in 2001.

Dad and Mom Caroline introduced Mike to the passion behind Husker fans years ago. The then-Grand Island family bought season tickets with their vacation money.

Mike's first NU game was in 1968. He might have the ticket to prove it, he said as he took off his fedora and flipped it upside down. Seven ticket stubs were tucked inside the cap's sweatband. Some dated to 1971, when the admission price was $6.

Mike and his mom grabbed spots at the nearby coffeehouse patio to watch fans file in, another tradition they've kept for years.

Some fans were dressed in vintage wear — including skinny neckties; red-and-white-striped overalls; and even one red-and-white go-go dress — but mostly they wore Husker shirts.

“It's really a sight to see,” said Caroline, who has been attending games since the 1950s.

THAT VIGNETTE gets to the heart of what Nebraska football -- and Nebraskans -- are about. A son turning out for the home team yet one more time, honoring not only a statewide love affair but also a father long gone.

By donning Dad's scarlet-and-cream outfit and taking Mom to the big game.

Go Big Red!

OK, if you didn't like that one . . .

How about these license plates?

Even I can do better than that

If you're going to have a contest for your state's new license plate, is it really too much to ask that most of the choices don't suck?

Well, yes. It is too much to ask if you live in Nebraska, where state government -- taking political correctness and inclusiveness to new heights -- apparently had students from the (deep breath) Nebraska Center for the Education of Children Who Are Blind or Visually Impaired (ain't THAT a name and a half?) choose the license-plate finalists.

I mean, this (at right) is a finalist. For the love of God, stuff like this is what keeps Rush Limbaugh in business railing about the evil and incompetence of government.

Come on, what state official's brother-in-law did this? If the state wants to get into the graphic-design bidness, it should start by restricting the sale of Adobe software and making owners pay a yearly license fee.

Give the money to arts in the schools.

ANYWAY, I'm not the only one dismayed. Advertising and graphics-arts types in the Great State are livid the state opened up license-plate design to legislators' brothers-in-law instead of just awarding a contract to a Nebraska design firm.

From the NE Creative blog:

Here we go again... We went down this road already so you don't want to see my vent but this pisses me off. Bland license plates that will reflect our state as we drive to other states and others drive through our state. Spend some money, help a small design business out.

NE CREATIVE'S Zach Origitano then quotes from the Archrival youth-marketing agency's Facebook page:

The State of Nebraska is missing a huge opportunity. The license plate is more than just a functional sheet of metal, it's a branding opportunity. As the state tries to grow its tourism and change the perception of being a boring piece of flat land, it should think about all its touch points. The license plate could have been a big one. Instead of creating an image that enhances Nebraska, the four designs presented as our options do us one worse: it maintains and reinforces the status quo.

It's hard to critique the amateur designers--- they did the best they could and took part. In many ways we applaud them for making the effort to get involved. Rather, we have to look at the final designs as a result of the process. With an image opportunity so big, how could the State think it's even a semi-good idea to have an open-ended design contest? This would have been worth the time, effort and money to pay for the best talent the state has to offer. Nebraska has some incredible design talent. But you won't get them through a non-paid open call for entries. Instead, you'll get the amateur works you see with our final four. You get what you pay for.

OH, I DON'T KNOW. Yes, the amateur designs selected by the state stink. Well, that's not entirely true . . . a couple are competently done, if not exactly inspired or original. But I keep thinking professionals -- high-priced professionals, no less -- came up with the Atlanta Journal-Constitution redesign.

Face it, pros can suck as bad as anyone.

So, I think the problem we have here is one of suckage and not of amateurism. I mean, I'm an amateur designer, and my first reaction to the story today in the Omaha World-Herald was "I can do better than any of these."

So I figured I'd try. It took me about an hour or so from conception to finish. The result is at the top of this post.

I thought I'd go for a blend of simplicity, Nebraska tradition and breaking the mold.

The "NEB" on the plate is an adaptation of the state identifier on this 1933 Nebraska plate:

MEANWHILE, the whimsical artwork of the crusty old "cornhusker" is taken from the pre-1962 logo for the University of Nebraska Cornhuskers:

THEN, I just brought back Nebraska's traditional license-plate slogan, "The Cornhusker State."

It was as simple as that. I don't think it sucks, and I think it injects an element of whimsy that laughs at how folks on the coasts try to stereotype Nebraskans. Of course, what do I know about "branding"?

Then again, you get what you pay for. The designers all said.