‘N’ for ‘Nebraska’? No, It’s for ‘Ninny’

Do you do dumb things? Do you do things that, in retrospect, defy any logical analysis? I’m not talking about honest mistakes, like a guy throwing away a complimentary Victoria’s Secret catalog because it got mixed up with other magazines. I mean things that you consciously choose to do but which are so inherently unnecessary and foolish that in the afterglow of having done them you can only shake your head at your stupidity.

If so, let’s compare notes.

I’m a Nebraska boy long ago baptized into the kingdom of Husker football. With our student-athletes ranked No. 1 last week, I had only seen them twice this season on TV. Because I make a nice dollar writing this column, I ponied up $11.95 for the pay-per-view telecast of last Saturday’s Nebraska-Missouri game.

The Huskers were four-touchdown favorites, but from the outset, the ol’ Mizzou Tigers looked good. They hadn’t beaten the Huskers in Columbia since 1973, but the game quickly took on an unfamiliar look. Every time the vaunted Huskers scored, Mizzou came back and scored. Every time it looked like the Huskers would pull away for a safe lead, they didn’t.

Skies darkened in Columbia, and so did my mood. Sometime early in the fourth quarter, I knew. I got “The Certainty.” Sports fans know it as that moment when you realize your team is going down in a key game.

The Certainty often has a calming effect, like imminent death. You realize you’re no longer in a ballgame but a participant in a force of nature. You don’t fight it; there’s nothing you can do.

So it became in my house Saturday as the fourth-quarter clock ran down. With about 90 seconds left and leading 38-31, Mizzou had a third-and-one. Last chance for the Huskers to stop them. Mizzou got a five-yard penalty to make it third-and-six. Ray of hope? On the next play, the Missouri quarterback eluded a Nebraska tackler and ran for 13 yards and a first down.

There’s nothing you can do. Force of nature.

Before Missouri ran another play, I flicked off the TV. Yes, there were 90 seconds left, but why watch the ending? Why not begin immediately to put the game behind me? With The Certainty confirmed by the last play, I got on my bike and pedaled away, bailing out for Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Forty-five minutes later, I returned and saw my message light blinking. Someone from the office was saying, “Overtime! At least you got your money’s worth. Go Missouri.”

What?

Could it be?

In this crazy, callous world where no one cares about the little guy, could the Huskers really have sent the game into overtime?

“Impossible,” I thought. “No chance.” Missouri had the ball. It was a first down. Only a minute or so to go. He must have misread the score on TV. Then, realizing it was the office scamp who had called, I figured he was tweaking me, rubbing in the loss.

I turned on the TV, but the game was over. I scanned the dial and over the next few minutes, with equal amounts of incredulity and self-loathing, realized what had happened. The Huskers had stopped Missouri on the series of downs immediately after I left the house. Missouri punted, and the Huskers, getting the ball back with one minute left, went 70 yards to tie the score at 38. The game-tying touchdown culminating the fevered last-minute drive was, as I saw on replay, one of the wackiest, luckiest plays in Husker history.

The game then went into overtime, the first the Huskers had ever played. They scored quickly, held Missouri, and won the game, 45-38.

I should have been exultant. I could tell I wasn’t.

It was pretty obvious why: While my alma mater was wrapping up one of the most thrilling games in school history, I was munching the three-piece thighs-and-leg lunch, with a side order of corn and a soft drink.

I spent much of the rest of that day sifting through the process that led me to miss out on what would have been pure exhilaration. Many phone calls to friends followed, but we came up with nothing conclusive. “You just didn’t want to see them lose. It’s as simple as that,” one said.

There’s a lesson in this. Dear God, there must be.

Am I so emotionally fragile that watching another 90 seconds would have done me in? Would watching Missouri fans celebrate be that painful? Why didn’t I consider even for one second that the Huskers would pull it out, especially in light of having paid $11.95 for the game?

Nebraska won, but I knew that I had really lost. I had missed sharing in a moment that, in a state like Nebraska, was a unifying moment of much glee. I could have been part of it, but I threw it away. They had a party, but I missed it.

It’s times like this I wish I had children. If parenthood is about adults pointing out foibles or outright stupidity in the hopes that children will learn from them, I’d be an outstanding father. What a wealth of examples to draw from!

Still, I’ve learned at least three lessons:

To experience unbridled joy, one must be willing to risk sadness.

The Certainty, as I have construed it, is a crock.

Third and most important, teams can really score fast in college football.

In searching for some bright side to that otherwise painful Saturday afternoon, I can report this: The chicken was quite tasty.

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821, by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail at [email protected]