It's Only Just A Game, Right?

That one second that would be put back on the clock.
I don't consider myself a Nebraska football fan.

It's not a knock against the state where I was born, grew up in and have lived my entire life. In fact, I will readily admit that I was a fervent Husker fan in my teens. I dreamed of pulling on the Scarlet and Cream, working out in the massive Nebraska lockerroom and hearing the cheers of the 76-thousand plus fans in Memorial Stadium.

Were my aspirations far-fetched? Of course. I stood nearly 6-foot-2 in eighth grade but weighed a paltry 120 pounds. If I had any hope of making a football team – any team (Pop Warner, junior high, junior varsity, varsity, college, etc.) – it would be as a kicker. But my leg strength was awful and the few afternoons my dad and I ventured up to the local high school field, I could barely kick it through the uprights from more than 30 yards (equating to 20-yard field goals).

So what changed my perspective on Nebraska's football team from Husker fan to casual observer? It had to be my "real" career as a sports reporter. I saw my first Husker game in person in 1987. Two years later, I was covering the team on Saturdays, watching from the press box and interviewing Heisman Trophy winners like Rashaan Salaam, future NFL'ers like Roy Williams and Danny Wuerffel and Hall of Fame coaches like Barry Switzer and Steve Spurrier.

So up until tonight, my biggest heartbreak involving the Husker football team dated back to my days as a high school junior. It was Jan. 2, 1984. Yes, the "instant classic" Orange Bowl. The one that followed Nebraska's 1983 season that saw the Husker offense get a cover story in Time magazine for being one of the most prolific in the history of college football. "The Triplets" (Turner Gill, Irving Fryar and Mike Rozier) were poised to earn Tom Osborne his first national title. And, as we all know, it came down to a failed two-point conversion that let Miami steal it all away.

I vividly remember calling my friend, Matt, long-distance (he lived in Des Moines) on that Monday night after Nebraska scored to pull within 31-30. We watched Gill roll out to his right and throw a pass to Jeff Smith, only to have Miami safety Ken Calhoun tip the ball away. The phone went dead. Omaha World-Herald sports editor Mike Kelly wrote a column that began, "The sun did come up," though it really didn't the next day (it was cloudy and overcase). I wore a black armband on my Husker jersey for months (seriously) and we suffered through one of our coldest winters of all time. Talk about piling on...

So when Nebraska saw the game officials put one second back on the clock last night in Dallas, I already started feeling that sinking feeling in my stomach that we had all been here before. The Hollywood Ending that Ndamukong Suh needed to possible vault him into the top three of a Heisman Trophy vote crossed my mind. But before I could start playing it out in my mind, Texas' Hunter Lawrence already had the kick in the air, sailing toward the uprights.

At first, it looked like it was going to go wide. But it kept curving and curving and tucked just inside the left upright. My friend, Bob, whom I had been texting updates to all night long, sent me three different texts asking what happened. For some reason, my texts either weren't reaching him or they were delayed. So three times I had to type, "Texas won on a 46-yard field goal." Talk about having to rub salt on a wound.

Lasting images from this game (off my TV screen):
As the Huskers lined up to kick the go-ahead field goal,
Texas quarterback Colt McCoy couldn't bear to watch.

Does this look like the expression on the face
of a confident Heisman Trophy candidate?

Pelini and the Huskers thought they had won the game.

This is how close Nebraska came to winning.