It was 50 years ago this past week – October 14, 1972 – that I attended my first Nebraska football game.
As an 8th grader at Raymond Central Junior & Senior High School, my plan was to simply walk around the stadium while listening to the Missouri Tigers battle the Cornhuskers in Memorial Stadium.
My mother agreed to spend the afternoon at Grandma and Grandpa Horn’s house – located two blocks north of the stadium — while I walked around the stadium.
I had convinced my parents, at age 13, that I was old enough to go it alone and didn’t need them – or my grandparents – smothering me during my rare moments of Big-Red-Stadium ecstasy. I had learned the gates to the stadium opened at the start of the fourth quarter, allowing anyone to walk in and watch the end of the game. I was determined to get inside the stadium before the final gun.
About 15 minutes before kickoff, I spotted a red and white wooden shed situated outside the main entrance of the east side of the stadium. As I stepped closer, I noticed people picking up tickets and scurrying toward the stadium. I asked the booth attendant if a person could buy a ticket to the game from him, and the answer was affirmative. Before another word rolled off my tongue, which I was trying to scrape off the pavement, a nicely dressed lady in her mid-forties approached me and asked if I wanted to buy a ticket to the game. She told me she had an extra ticket in row 45 of section six of the east stadium. She promised she would sell me the ticket at face value – six dollars – and that I didn’t have to pay her until we got to our seats.
“Where will we be sitting?” I inquired. “Are they good seats?”
“Under the east balcony on the 50-yard line,” the potential ticket seller said.
This was too good to be true.
My state of nirvana increased when she told me it wouldn’t bother her if I had legendary announcer Lyell Bremser turned up on my radio while we watched the game.
We ventured up the ramps and found our seats shortly after kickoff. I missed the pre-game festivities but was too excited to worry about not experiencing the magic of the NU Marching Band’s celebrated entrance onto the field.
Since my seat was under the east balcony, I couldn’t get a full view of the stadium’s crowd but did have a clear view of the field.
Johnny Rodgers caught a touchdown pass and turned around and ran the last yard or two in backward. Johnny made two or three other amazing catches and brought the crowd to its collective feet every time he dropped back to receive a Missouri punt.
Nebraska had mounted a 34-0 lead midway through the third quarter, and a few folks committed the unforgivable sin of leaving the stadium. I told my gracious ticket-seller that I was going to watch the rest of the game from the top of the east balcony so I could view all 76,000 red-clad fans – minus a few early departure sinners – at once. We parted ways, and I found a seat on the top row of the balcony, near the north 20-yard line.
I could see Lyell in his radio booth moving his hands as he spoke, but he was too far away to get a clear look at his face, and I didn’t have any binoculars.
As I watched the final 22 minutes of the game from atop the stadium’s east balcony, the Cornhuskers punched in another four touchdowns, and the final score was Nebraska 62, Missouri 0.
After the game, I enjoyed the Cornhusker Marching Band’s post-game show, and I walked around the stadium picking up programs and other souvenirs people had left behind while I listened to KFAB’s Tom Johnson broadcast the post-game scoreboard show, which included tons of scores mixed with the recordings of marching bands playing their school fight songs.
I was on an absolute high. All was perfect with the world, and I felt extremely blessed.
When one is 13, he can usually count his days of full happiness on one hand.
October 14, 1972, was one of those rare days.