Five hours before kick was the magic hour.  I walked down the street in what is usually a fairly busy downtown and besides very few cars, I only saw a couple of runners and someone waiting on the bus.  The wind from the north blew the yellow leaves across the road and sidewalk where they make a lovely crunch under my feet.  The wind was just enough to give the air a bite, but the sunny bright blue skies hinted at the joy to come, at least here on game day.

My destination was a local breakfast restaurant where a few early birds had also gathered.  I love this little ritual of mine for early game days because I get to be by myself for a quiet breakfast, read a little and enjoy my favorite waffle and bacon.  At a large table ahead of me is a group of older men, all wearing bright yellow jackets with the word EVENT emblazoned on them.  These guys meet here every game day I assume because they’re always here when I get here.  The server knew them well and engaged in some fun banter with the old gentlemen.  And as old gentlemen can, they talked not only about football but something about not being very PC.  I’m not surprised.

After breakfast I walked to the stadium to watch band rehearsal and watch my better half do what he was meant to do – get excited about marching band.  He and his partner are like two peas in a pod, anticipating what the other is going to say or finishing funny phrases for each other.  They work together like a well oiled machine and have become great friends.  It’s fun to watch.  I had an opportunity to talk with one of their colleagues while they worked, sharing what’s being going on in our lives, comparing notes about similar activities.  I love this person because she always makes me think.

After rehearsal, it was off to the usual burger place with the guys where more lively banter ensued, some shop talk and then off we went, them to get ready for their concert, me to wait for a friend going to the game with me.  Oh yes, today was all about the game, wasn’t it?  Going to a game for a team who at mid season had yet to win a game.

It’s been a miserable season, both weather wise and scoring.  A new coach, a new philosophy and a new hope, with fans wanting to believe that this guy can help them recreate the past.  A past, now nearly 20 years ago that fans still reminisce about with great fondness and passion.  You see, in this state, this is the one thing that just about everyone has a connection to in some way or another.

And so my friend and I walked with nearly 90,000 other fans to sit in a really large bowl overlooking a beautiful green field on a bright sunny fall day, all wanting to believe that THIS would finally be the day.  This would be our first win with this new coach, the golden boy, the preserver of the legacy that is Husker football.

The people who sit in my section are great, it’s a family atmosphere, just nice people excited to see the only thing really going on in the state at that time.  Every store is playing the game rather than music, the sports bars are full, groups are tailgating around TV’s and others have gathered in their homes with friends and family.  You can’t go anywhere without someone asking “what’s the score?”.  But there’s nothing like being there in person listening to someone say “I hope my kid will want to try out for the marching band some day” and listen to a woman about my age yelling instructions to the team during the game.  The entire section high fives each other after every touchdown, dances and claps off the beat with every tune.  A man at least my age was rocking out to some rap and he wasn’t even inebriated!  It’s a glorious time.

How do you get hundreds of thousands of people to believe in something that for almost a year has been one big disappointment?  Hope.  People want to believe that good will happen.  They want to believe that their guy always wins, that good triumphs over evil, which is difficult in this case because both people from Nebraska and Minnesota are, well, just nice.  It’s Americana at its best, in a place in this country where people believe they can make a difference, that being kind matters and not only is cheering on your team important, but applauding for the opposing team at the end is also important.

Yes, we want to believe in the good in everything, that good will overcome evil and everything will turn all right in the end.  And while it may all sound very naive, I’ll take it over the hateful rhetoric, cynicism and hopelessness I hear from the coasts.  Maybe if they could just enjoy a college football game on a beautiful fall day, they might begin to believe as well.