Sidelines
THE lovely Jennifer is from Omaha. She's a University of Nebraska graduate. And she has agreed (thanks to the book "Learn How to Hypnotize People in Just Three Easy Steps") to become my wife, which means she's going to leave her home behind to join me in Hawaii. A big move indeed. Big Red sticks
to the shoeHer only condition was that we'd better find a way for her to watch her beloved Huskers play football on TV. Sure, I said. Those fan groups are everywhere. I'll get cable! No problem!
But then I actually found one.
Now my finger is poised on the "send" button. I'm about to respond to a reader, a nice and complimentary man, who signs all his correspondence with the salutation "GBR."
GBR? Was this a religious thing? His favorite brand of cheap beer? The first three letters of my license plate?
But when his second note talked about Shane Komine, Dominic Raiola and an upcoming Nebraska alumni gathering in Honolulu, it dawned on me that GBR, of course, meant "Go Big Red."
I HAVE JUST RETURNED home to the islands after a long detour into Nebraska and Iowa. A loooooong detour. I went to college in Nebraska. Because the job market in Hawaii is difficult, I started my career there.
But I was not a Nebraska fan. Of course not. I'm from Hawaii. I never "converted."
In Nebraska, you're either a Husker football fan, or ... well, there is no "or." Everyone is a Husker football fan. Streets are deserted on game days. Checkout clerks (probably receiving overtime pay for working on a "holiday") wear red to work, while the radio broadcast is piped over the store's speakers. The Sunday Omaha World-Herald carries up to five or more pages of game coverage, and the main game story is only slightly shorter than the Old Testament. It's like the Super Bowl every week.
Jen sent me a tape of her favorite songs. Toward the end of Side 1, "Hail Varsity" blasted away, the horn section in full force. Just a reminder.
I almost drove off the road.
In Nebraska, they say "Go Big Red" the way we say "aloha." At the end of phone calls. To close letters. To express love.
When they show those holiday greetings from servicemen abroad, that's all they say: "Go Big Red! Oh, yeah, and also Merry Christmas to my family, I guess."
Invariably, at large gatherings (games, county fairs, church), some guy will yell out to the heavens: "Gooooo, Biiiiiiiiiiiig Reeddddddd!" And the crowd will answer, in unison: "Go-Big-Red!"
If you are born and raised in Nebraska, this is musical. If you are not, you have the sudden urge to step in front of a speeding bus.
Sorry. Nebraska people are warm and friendly. Their devotion to their team is truly inspiring. It's just that if you are not actually from Nebraska, it can, at times, be a bit overwhelming.
And now, here it is, for the asking. An alumni group. This is not just a bunch of guys getting together to watch a game in a bar. But an official organization. All I have to do is send this e-mail. Ask for more information. Go to GBR banquets for the rest of my life.
They found me. My new in-laws. The "Family."
I stand, breath held, ready to take that giant, giant step. Below me, only the big, red sea.
Kalani Simpson's column runs Sundays, Tuesdays and Fridays.
He can be reached at ksimpson@starbulletin.com