Hello. Welcome to Stanceville - the bizarro Dr. Pepper Fansville alternative universe. Each week, we’ll provide you with the satirical sights, sounds and week that was of college football in Stanceville.
Week 0 - Big Red Rejection
Each Sunday starts the same here in Stanceville.
You sip a few cups of coffee and pop a few Excedrin before slipping into your nicest Dockers for church. It’s tough to beat a family church outing. Church is a way of life around here.
The friendly peace-be-with-yous. Constant ups and downs of kneeling and sitting. The obnoxious GO-BIG-RED chants immediately following the Lord’s Prayer. There’s just something about it.
But before you and the family hop in the GMC Acadia and head off to church, you, the man of the house, have to get the kids up.
The wake-up call is never an issue for 9-year-old Suzy. She loves Sunday School and is excited to see her teacher a few pews away.
13-year-old Tommy, on the other hand, can be difficult. Tommy’s a good boy. He loves sports, does all his chores and even mows the elderly neighbor’s lawn each summer. An All-American kid.
But Tommy took after you, his dad. He loves the Nebraska Cornhuskers. Like really, loves the Huskers. You even affectionately call him Touchdown Tommy.
He sleeps on Husker sheets. Has Rex Burkhead and Ameer Abdullah posters in his room. He even has the Nebraska horseshoe atop his door frame that he slaps every night before bed.
But the last few years have been tough for Tommy.
He’s grown up on all the good stories, you see. You know, the ones about Lawrence Phillips putting the fear of God into Scott Frost. The time the UNL students tipped over the Miami Hurricanes bus outside The Res. Even the wholesome time Bo Pelini called his boss a p**** and a c***.
Even with all those fond memories…you’ve seen a change in Tommy. He’s less exuberant. More apathetic. He drinks a lot less red Kool-Aid.
But just like his dad, he’s faithful through and through. He’ll always support The Big Red.
Or so you thought…
9:35 AM BEFORE CHURCH ON SUNDAY
*You call into Tommy’s room*
Dad: KNOCK KNOCK “Hey sport, let’s hustle. I want to catch the 1011 Big Red Wrap-Up on the way to mass.”
silence
*You turn the doorknob, peer inside and are horrified of what you see*
Dad: “Cheezus Pete son! What in the Bill Callahan are you doing?”
*You’ve caught him red-handed*
Tommy: “Dad, ugh, shoot, ugh it’s not what it looks like I swear…”
Dad: “Explain yourself! I didn’t raise you to do something like this. Especially not on a Sunday morning.”
(You think to yourself….SHIT. Carol was right. You and Tommy do need to have THE TALK.)
*You walk over, grab the computer monitor and squint to see what’s got him all worked up.*
It’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined.
Tommy: “Dad, look I’m sorry. It’s not what it looks like.”
Your heart drops out of your chest. You can’t believe what you’ve just caught little Tommy doing.
Dad: “SOCCER? SOCCER? That’s it, son. You’re grounded! Your Mom and I didn’t raise you this way.
Tommy: “Dad, I’m sorry but at least you know now.”
Dad: “KNOW WHAT?”
Tommy: “I can’t be a Husker fan anymore, Dad. I love you. But I can’t do it.
*long pause*
Tommy: “Last Saturday was the last straw. I believed in Coach Frost. I thought he was the next Coach Osborne.”
“But losing to Illinois…like that…I can’t do it.”
“I’ve tried really hard. For years, I prayed to Patron Saint Osborne and threw the bones every night before bed. I even sleep in my corncob hat.”
“But I’m done. I’m sick of the greed and the losing and the embarrassment.”
“I just can’t do it anymore.”
“I want to start wearing kits. I’m a Manchester United fan now.”