I attended the Michigan at Nebraska football game this past Saturday.
I returned to Memorial Stadium after a seven-year absence. My last appearance was the infamous cancellation affair when Akron came to town and promptly left Lincoln due to a wicked lightning display and thunderstorm.
Even though you know last week’s final score, please don’t change the channel.
Speaking of changes, I noticed several as I viewed the game from section 32, row 69. If you’re not familiar with the stadium, my seat was in the northwest corner.
50 years ago, there was no tunnel walk, no fireworks, no smoke machines, no flyovers, no screaming public address announcer, no boom-boom-boom music exploding from the loudspeakers, no video boards with accompanying sound effects and no alcohol sales.
I stress the word sales. There was alcohol, but it had to get past the ticket taker via creative smuggle. As in one’s coat pockets.
If the University of Nebraska’s goal was to achieve yet another huge money grab by selling beer, they have accomplished it to perfection.
As I sat on my isle seat, hundreds of people paraded by me carrying two, three or even four cans of beer.
Insert grouchy old Cornhusker thought here, as in: That didn’t happen in 1975!
The 2025 beer drinkers repeatedly hopped down the steps to the vendors located below me. It was as if most of the folks were in the stadium to drink beer and not watch football.
As Archie Bunker once stated, you can’t own beer, you can only rent it.
The beer renters – especially men – formed long lines at the bathrooms.
I had to use their lavatory midway through the second quarter. I was astonished that the bathroom line for MEN featured at least one hundred bladder holders.
It brought me to tears.
I couldn’t wait in line that long. I unethically entered the exit and found my spot. I was quickly chastised for not waiting my turn by a young buck who had consumed a few barley pops of his own.
I didn’t care; I had an emergency mission to accomplish.
Insert another grouchy old Cornhusker spew: Oh, how it used to be!
During the third quarter of the 1975 Texas Christian at Nebraska contest, I trotted down 96 steps to use the bathroom. I entered the latrine, said hello to the trough and quickly returned to my seat.
No beer drinkers were present to attempt a derailment.
Attending a Nebraska football game in Memorial Stadium is an extraordinary experience. It’s one that I believe every Nebraskan should experience for at least once in their lifetime.
The sea of red, the marching band, the tunnel walks, the military flyover, the fireworks, the giant video boards, the release of thousands of red balloons following the first score, the tailgating and the action on the field are tools that unite the state.
Other than the University money grab, what’s the only other accomplishment of the sale of beer? To me, the booze serves as a fan deterrent from the action on the field.
And to bring an aging man to tears for a near underwear rain shower.
Oh, as far as the Cornhusker football team, there’s no change. The Big Red still cannot win big games.
Despite the deafening roar of 87,000 supporters who were emotionally drained following the three-point loss.
With the Exception of the stadium’s beer drinkers who drained themselves in another way.