Memorial Stadium, on game day, is the third largest city in the state of Nebraska.  Once again fall has arrived and Saturdays are spent making the trip to Lincoln to see a football game.  On an ordinary day it is just another building on the campus of the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.  On game day it is the hopes and dreams of an entire state.    Memorial Stadium.  The icon for all that is good in the state of Nebraska.  The place where gladiators prevail and crowds cheer.

    It looms in the background like the Roman Coliseum.  The parking lot fills quickly with cars and trucks decorated in Nebraska red.  Excited fans mill around the parking lot cooking Nebraska beef and drinking beer, wagering on how long it will take the boys to dismantle whatever the other team may throw at them, and debating on how many records will get broken this week.

    Lines into the stadium extend for miles; the short drive from Omaha or the long drive from Ogallala is enhanced by three hours because of the thousands of cars lined up to catch a glimpse of this yearís hope for the National Championship.  Patience is not considered a virtue on game day.

     Names such as Crouch and Wistrom are discussed around the grill and through the enormous tunnels as if every man was their best friend and every woman went to the movies with them.  Pre-game conversations between strangers circle around ìWhat do you think of the boys this year?î and ìDonít you think that Solich has a solid squad?î  There is no football team who comes into the state who leaves without a broken arm or two.  Sometimes even a broken leg will suffice.  That is the expectation.

     The man with a job on Wall Street makes his way home for games, and the woman with the modeling career in California comes back to her roots wearing red.  The farmers sell their farms before selling their season tickets to the games.  Children who cannot even walk are seen wearing the colors of crimson and cream - boys and girls alike can be seen supporting Husker apparel.  From the red of the offense to the black of the defense, the stadium is covered from the first row to the last of die-hard fans.  The man who has had season tickets for 50 years still has to stop and catch his breath when the roar of the crowd welcomes the Huskers.  Cornhusks on the heads of fans are not an optical illusion.  Only in Nebraska can you put a vegetable on your head and still be considered fashion-conscious.

     The state puts its hopes and dreams of the future in these boys.  On Saturdays the state is covered in crimson and cream, only to show support to the team who is going to bring victory and pride to its fans.  It is amazing how a football game can bring together an entire state of people.  Stores close, everyone goes to the closest place with a big screen TV ñ unless they are fortunate enough to have tickets to the game -, and the streets become empty when the Huskers take the field.

     This madness has been caused by years of tears and victories.  Beef and ears of corn, not to mention thousands of die-hard fans and players with hearts of steel, surround the games.  Electricity ignites the fans and the players and causes fear in the hearts and minds of opponents.  Some strange kind of obsession by a state may exist here, but on game days there is no place like Nebraska.