If you're one of those Iowa fans who acts like a normal human and doesn't have a burning little brother complex about Nebraska, by all means, skip this post. We like some of you. Come and tailgate with us and we can get along as people.
But there are others of you, and those others taught me to take Iowa out of the realm of "teams I don't care about" to "teams I cheer against in every game they play." Those are the tools who call into Nebraska radio shows, the knobs who show up here, the douches on social media. Probably from Western Iowa in most cases, very often living in Nebraska. You tools are the reason it made me deeply happy to see Iowa get its soul shoved out its mouth from the sheer force of that MSU boot up its back end on the final drive.
I can't decide which would have been more delicious, to watch a bad NU team ruin the whole thing for you last week, or the way it played out. Given that you'd still have gone to Indy, and a loss last week might have been motivating and calming in a way, this might be even better.
It was amazing. I drink in your sadeness like a cold beer after toiling outside on a 95 degree day. It is at once refreshing and intoxicating. You got your hopes up as high as they could possibly go without actually winning anything of substance. It's so perfect. It's so Iowa.
If they had won and made the playoff, that's something to hang your hat on. You could have waived that "we made the playoff and you didn't" flag for a long, long time the way things look in Lincoln. A conference title, now there's something you can point to. A playoff berth, it's what all the teams dream of.
But instead, you got to the first game that would have yielded a trophy for that barren case, you got to have the lead, and on the last MSU drive you watched it vanish one brutal power run at a time. It was poetry. It was this:
You can now move on to a bowl game that for the rest of the country will be roughly as big a viewing priority as Nebraska's 5-7 appearance in some bowl that shouldn't exist. "Not a playoff game? Yeah...don't care then. Let me know when the Alabama game is on." We can officially stop calling the Rose Bowl "The Granddaddy of them All" and start calling it "Not the Playoff." That way the nickname can wear in a little bit before the playoff expands to eight teams and bowl games sink deeper into the realm of the sad and outdated.
And who better to appear the first time it's called "Not the Playoffs" than Iowa, the team that seems doomed for all eternity to make mountains out of its molehill accomplishments. And before you all whip up your "rather be 11-1 than 5-7" responses, let me remind you of something. It's true that Nebraska is a long way from relevant, but at least there are Nebraska fans walking the earth who can remember when it was. When it comes to the history and lore of college football, we have been blue bloods. You've just peaked at blue balls.
So on this Sunday morning after your loss, may your coffee be as bitter as that defeat, and remember, we were content to leave you alone. You came looking for us, like the young guy in the small town bar who has a couple too many and decides he wants the toughest guy in town to step outside. You wanted this fight, and now you get to be reminded...you still have not arrived.
Happy Holidays!
Love,
Beav
But there are others of you, and those others taught me to take Iowa out of the realm of "teams I don't care about" to "teams I cheer against in every game they play." Those are the tools who call into Nebraska radio shows, the knobs who show up here, the douches on social media. Probably from Western Iowa in most cases, very often living in Nebraska. You tools are the reason it made me deeply happy to see Iowa get its soul shoved out its mouth from the sheer force of that MSU boot up its back end on the final drive.
I can't decide which would have been more delicious, to watch a bad NU team ruin the whole thing for you last week, or the way it played out. Given that you'd still have gone to Indy, and a loss last week might have been motivating and calming in a way, this might be even better.
It was amazing. I drink in your sadeness like a cold beer after toiling outside on a 95 degree day. It is at once refreshing and intoxicating. You got your hopes up as high as they could possibly go without actually winning anything of substance. It's so perfect. It's so Iowa.
If they had won and made the playoff, that's something to hang your hat on. You could have waived that "we made the playoff and you didn't" flag for a long, long time the way things look in Lincoln. A conference title, now there's something you can point to. A playoff berth, it's what all the teams dream of.
But instead, you got to the first game that would have yielded a trophy for that barren case, you got to have the lead, and on the last MSU drive you watched it vanish one brutal power run at a time. It was poetry. It was this:
You can now move on to a bowl game that for the rest of the country will be roughly as big a viewing priority as Nebraska's 5-7 appearance in some bowl that shouldn't exist. "Not a playoff game? Yeah...don't care then. Let me know when the Alabama game is on." We can officially stop calling the Rose Bowl "The Granddaddy of them All" and start calling it "Not the Playoff." That way the nickname can wear in a little bit before the playoff expands to eight teams and bowl games sink deeper into the realm of the sad and outdated.
And who better to appear the first time it's called "Not the Playoffs" than Iowa, the team that seems doomed for all eternity to make mountains out of its molehill accomplishments. And before you all whip up your "rather be 11-1 than 5-7" responses, let me remind you of something. It's true that Nebraska is a long way from relevant, but at least there are Nebraska fans walking the earth who can remember when it was. When it comes to the history and lore of college football, we have been blue bloods. You've just peaked at blue balls.
So on this Sunday morning after your loss, may your coffee be as bitter as that defeat, and remember, we were content to leave you alone. You came looking for us, like the young guy in the small town bar who has a couple too many and decides he wants the toughest guy in town to step outside. You wanted this fight, and now you get to be reminded...you still have not arrived.
Happy Holidays!
Love,
Beav