A Nebraska Cornhusker and a German Walk into a Bar...

My friend Otto recently moved to Omaha from Germany. Sensing the big red tidal wave that will crash over this state in a few weeks, he asked me to give him a crash course on college football and the Huskers.

We met at Barry O’s and snagged a couple of stools at the bar. Kelly smiled and poured us a couple of Boulevards.

“So, this college football thing,” Otto said, drawing his first sip. “How does it work?”

“Well, most of the big colleges and universities have football teams,” I said. “American football, that is.”

“Thank you.”

“And 120 of those schools play in the top division, which used to be called just ‘Division 1-A’ but is now called ‘Division 1, Football Bowl Subdivision.”

“Much catchier.”

“And this is big business,” I said. “Games on TV from morning through night every Saturday, and most Thursday and Friday nights. Also some Sundays and a few Monday nights, even the occasional Wednesday.”

“Never on Tuesdays?”

“Nah, that would be stupid. Anyway, the teams are ranked before the season by the media and coaches, and then they play a three-and-a-half month regular season, 11 or 12 or 13 games each with one or two random bye weeks. A handful of conference championship games are at the end, but not every conference does that.”

”My wife’s volleyball league is more organized than this.”

“Otto, if you’re not going to even try—”

“OK, OK, sorry. Go ahead. So, why do they bother ranking the teams before they play any games? And how can they even do it intelligently before the season?”

Otto and his silly questions. This would be a long night. I waved Kelly over for more beers. 

“Well, the voters just make their best guesses about how good the teams are, relative to each other,” I said. “It’s based on stuff like number of returning starters, last year’s performance, coaching, that kind of thing.”

Otto was amused. “A little popularity contest. I suppose there’s no harm in that, these rankings can’t really mean anything.”

“Actually, they mean a lot,” I said. “A whole lot. The season is essentially a dogfight to climb to the top of the BCS standings, and the polls are a key part of it.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask this,” Otto said. “But what are the BCS standings?”

I paused before diving into the BCS morass. “I’m going to give you a choice,” I said. “I can either explain the BCS standings in detail or we can each throw back a shot of Jose Cuervo. Your head will feel the same either way but the tequila will be faster.”

“Tequila.”

Kelly poured, we drank, I continued.

“OK so the BCS standings are computed every week after the human voters and computers rank the teams.”

“And the rankings change a lot?”

”Some weeks, yeah. Depends on the results of the games the week before.”

Otto rubbed his forehead. “But, you said the voters rank the teams based on how good they think they are? How can a team’s ‘goodness’ change drastically each week?”

“No,” I said. “’Goodness’ is the basis for the rankings before the season.”

“Before we watch them play.”

“Right. After the season starts, it’s sort of a weekly reward and punishment system based on who won the games the week before.”

Otto sat up in his stool a little. “OK, maybe that makes some sense. So if a Team A beats Team B, Team A will be ranked higher than Team B in the standings the next week.”

“Not necessarily.”

Otto slumped back down.

“Let me get this straight,” Otto said. “The teams are ranked based on their ‘goodness’ before anyone has even seen them play. Then once the season starts and they actually get a sense for how good the teams are, they ditch the ‘goodness’ thing and move them up and down based on results, except a team can be ranked ahead of a team that it lost to.”

“That’s right.”

Otto looked like he wanted to punch me.

“Fine,” he said. “So at the end, how do you crown the champion? There must be a playoff or something.”

“No, not in the top division,” I said. “Can’t afford to have the students miss class.”

“They have a playoff at the other levels?”

“Yeah, every other level has a playoff. I guess those schools are on trimesters or something.”

Otto stared blankly at the TV. I was losing him.

“Let’s stay on track,” I said. “There’s no playoff, but the top two teams at the end of the season are matched up to play in the championship game.”

“That’s a playoff,” Otto said.

“Huh?”

“That’s a two team playoff,” Otto said. He was no longer angry; I think he felt sorry for me. “You have a playoff system, it’s just a really small one.”

“Anyway, the winner of that final game is the champion.”

“And no more voting after that game?”

“Actually, they do vote,” I said. “They force them to vote the winner of that game as the No, 1 team.”

Otto chuckled. “That would be funny.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Let’s talk about Nebraska,” I said. “You moved here at a good time, we’re getting really good again. We’re used to winning but up until a couple years ago it was a tough stretch.”

“How good were you?”

“Usually really good, sometimes dominant,” I said. “We won two national titles in the early 70′s, and won then in 1983 we had a great team. A GREAT team.”

A guy in a light blue golf shirt ordering gin & tonics overheard us and nodded at me. “A great team,” he said.

I don’t like talking about 1983. That game was 27 years ago and I’m still not over it.

“Why so great?” Otto asked. 

“We were the best,” light blue shirt said. ”Undisputed. Favored by two touchdowns in the championship game.” He walked away with his gin and tonics.

“It was supposed to be a coronation, not an actual game,” I continued. “But it didn’t happen. And you’ll still hear people talk about that team. Rozier, Gill, Steinkuhler, Rathman. And a receiver—fast as lightning, number 27. Wow, I’m blanking. What was his name? This is terrible. I can’t believe I’m forgetting his name.”

“Tequila on the brain?”

“I guess. Anyway, in the 90′s we were the best again for a time. Three national championships, a 60-3 run over five years. Dominated a lot of that decade. Lost blue chip recruits because they were afraid they wouldn’t make it on the field. Dammit, what was that receiver’s name! He dropped a pass in the Orange Bowl against Miami…”

“So, I was doing some reading,” Otto said. “The quarterback is the most important guy on the team, usually? The guy who runs things? That must be the position you worry about most.”

“Zac Lee,” I said.

“Thought so.”

“Huh? No, Z-A-C L-E-E. He’s our quarterback. This will be his second season as starter.”

“Is he good?”

“I have no idea.”

“Sounds about right,” Otto said.

Kelly poured more beer.

“I was at Westroads Mall today,” Otto said. ”Saw more red shirts than I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Get used to it,” I said. “Wait till I bring you to Lincoln for a game, you’ll think your eyes are bleeding.”

“I did see one lady in a shirt with a big orange cow on it, said TEXAS on it.”

“Fryar!”

“A little harsh, don’t you think?”

“Huh? No, Fryar—Irving Fryar. He was the receiver in 1983. Damn those guys were good.”

“So, tell me about this season,” Otto said. “Everyone seems excited, but you’re moving somewhere?”

“Yeah, this will be a weird year,” I said. “Nebraska plays in a conference called the Big 12,” I said. “For now. This is our last year—we’re leaving next year for the Big Ten.”

“Yeah, 12 seems like a lot of teams. Can’t blame you guys for moving to a smaller conference.”

“Not smaller,” I said. “The Big 12 will have 10 teams and the Big Ten will have 12.”

Otto glanced at his watch. “You’re making this whole thing up, aren’t you. You’re a funny guy.”

“I’m not kidding, Otto. I don’t get that part either. We need a rule about conference names.”

“Alright,” Otto said. “So you’re quitting the Big 12. Why?”

“That’s another complicated story,” I said. “I suggest we skip that one too, have a Cuervo break instead.”

“Done and done.”

Kelly appeared and poured our tequila. Explaining college football is easier with Jose Cuervo standing by.

Otto returned to his Boulevard. “So, are you nervous about this season? I mean, all I hear about is how Nebraska’s finally ’back.’ That’s a lot of pressure. Are you worried it’s not true?”

“I’m nervous about the season, sure. Always am. But I’m not worried about whether we’re ‘back.’”

“Why not?”

“Because this is what it means to be back,” I said. I poked my index finger on the bar. “This conversation we’re having, and hundreds like it that are happening as we speak. The fans are ready again. We’re not afraid to play anyone anymore. This is ‘back.’ It’s already happened.”

Otto nodded. “I have to tell you, I don’t understand all of this. The voting, the two team playoff, the conferences, all that stuff.”

”Don’t worry,” I said. “It’ll start making sense once the season starts.”

“Really?”

“No. Not really. You just have to understand one thing. It’s about the games. When the ball is kicked off, the game is all that matters.”

“I know that feeling,” Otto said. “I love that feeling.”

“And the games are fun—incredibly fun. The rest is just noise.”

Otto looked at our empty glasses.

“One more beer?” I said.

“One more beer,” Otto agreed. “I was going to ask you about the Callahan era anyway. What was that about?”

“Kelly, make it two shots of tequila,” I said.

From the FanTake Blog: Better Off Red

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