An Open Letter to Husker Fans - 4th Annual Edition

Dear Husker Fans,

Here we are again.

One year ago, I sat down at my computer and presented to you a story in which you did not want to hear. I explained how a prodigal son had returned to great fanfare, and made his own unique mark on your inimitable football program. This man hired a dim-witted NFL reject to help cement his own legacy toward the one single thing he held most dear…your admiration.

And yet, both the prodigal son and his flunky head coach apprentice failed…and failed miserably I might add.

During that column 365 or so days ago, I explained how this foolish decision was, despite the fact that it was initially met with false jubilation. I sat down in this very chair and explained to you that this poison was eventually going to destroy you slowly from the inside. I typed away one year ago, warning you of all these dangers. Despite your rebukes and your foolish pride, everything I said would happen did…as your program was destroyed in a matter of not months...but weeks.

You might think I take great pride in predicting your Dresden-esque destruction. You might think I hold dear every tear you cry, as I watched your failures play out in front of the entire country. Sobbing. Crying. Screaming. Yelling. Blaming.

Your season had all of this and it was delicious.

Yes, you might think that the end of this lifelong quest was enough to satisfy my insatiable lust to watch you suffer in pain and misery every bit as much as I did each time you gave me a pity clap on my way out of the gate of the stadium. You may think that each Oklahoma State touchdown made up for the hysteria, the delusions, the paranoia and most of all the unexplainable arrogance that hit super-human levels.

If you thought any of this…you were wrong.

When I moved to this state in 1986, my favorite college football team was about to embark on a 3-8 season. Your team went 10 and 2. In 1987 my team went a robust 5 and 6. Your team went 10 and 2 again. In 1988 my team went 3-7-1. Your team went 11-2.

On and on and on it went; each season worse than the next. Finally, in 1997, an unexpected suprise season was met with an illegal kicked ball and a one-in-a-million fluke that led to another Husker National Championship.

You have no idea what anger and hate is.

Today on the drive home, I listened to a conga-line of whiney-assed Husker fans calling into their favorite radio show. “This has been such a dark period in Husker football history”, they said. “We’re ready to pull out of this funk and get back to what Husker football really is.”

I hope each and every one of you suffer for eternity within the fiery bowels of hell.

But justice is not blind. Today, my team has awoken from a three decade slumber, while your team sits at the bottom of a lake of diarrhea…hoping upon hope that a rookie head coach and talent that would make Rich Kotite snicker can save you. My team loaded with speed, while your team is relying on 4th stringers from a year ago whom you are just POSITIVE sat the bench for no good reason under the old regime. My team is blessed with two Heisman candidates and a bevy of all-conference talent. Your team is converting ex-running backs and sticking them in starting roles in one of the worst defenses the conference has ever seen.

And yet with all of this going my way…I still kept this blog churning, despite the fact that you are beyond ridicule and beyond contempt. For you see...this blog chugs along, because you have not yet begun to suffer enough.

I carry on, because I represent your enemy. I represent every single fan you snickered at for all those years. I represent every single opposing soul who had to put up with your fat, George Straight listening, red cowboy boot wearing, titanic sweaty ass filling up our stadiums...acting as if you owned the place. I represent every single transplant who has had to listen to a sports report in April waste valuable news coverage time to discuss a meaningless fucking scrimmage. I represent every single fan you ever gave that pathetic pity clap to as you applauded under the false label of “classiest fan in the nation.”

Fuck you….Fuck every single one of you.

This week, Husker fans bring their false hopes, “hopefully’s” and “I’m sure of's” to the start of yet another season. But little do you realize that during that game in 1997, when the ball was fluttering through the air, and into the hands of a scrawny wide receiver (or whatever you are calling receivers these days. I just call them slow)….the ink on your contract with Satan was already starting to dry. With the exception of a single Championship game against Texas in San Antonio, absolutely nothing has been the same for you since. This is all your doing. This is what happens when you screw with karma.

Boo hoo.

Yes, as this season kicks off, and you are left to ponder again just how the hell I could forecast your destruction (again)....I want you to remember yet again that this is only the beginning. I want you to remember that there are no easy fixes. I want you to remember that no matter who the fuck you think you are…NOBODY owes you a goddamn thing. NOBODY cares about you. NOBODY fears you. NOBODY wants you to succeed. The goodwill and “classy” nature of your fans have been flushed down the toilet long ago…actually right about the time you all started making excuses for deviants and thugs who took your program from good to great for a period what seems like eons ago.

So as we once again embark on this great journey, I want you to never ever again forget that the glory days are gone. You will never ever be what you once were; and when I mean what you once were, I mean happy, content and optimistic about the future. Tough battles with Western Michigan at home are all you have now, yet unfortunately for you, you haven't the slightest clue what that means. It means everything you worked for…everything you stood for…everything you chiseled into your stadium walls...everything you plastered to your chest as you strut around in front of the world??? Is gone.

Poof.

I hope it hurts.

I hope when you realize what a gigantic clusterfuck your program is in that you never EVER forget what you did and how you acted toward others. Being a gigantic know-it-all and following your team to the ends of the earth didn’t make you better than anyone else…it just allowed your true colors to show when times eventually would get tough. You’re no better than anyone now, and there isn’t a single thing you can do about it.

I hope you realize it’s personal when other teams and their fans mock you.
I hope you think of all those things you did as you’re smashing your Husker trash can.
I hope you remember how you acted when you slam your remote in disgust.
I hope you realize what a douche you are for “throwing bones” against San Jose State.
I hope you possibly gain one INKLING of what a complete and total prick you all really are.

Never in one billion years can you ever possibly contemplate how much I hate you. This is more than a just some stupid blog or some obsession or whatever you want to label it. This is more than just a movement toward the literally THOUSANDS of people who treated me like shit for all those years, simply because I was a fan of a horrendous football team. This is more than about just one season.

This is about you getting what was coming to you. This is about humiliation and the payback that so many others have dreamt of. This is about karma, hate and payback.

I hope it stings.

I hope it hurts.

I hope it makes you not even care anymore.

Let the Bodies hit the floor this glorious football season, and may the rotting carcas of your program follow you everywhere, as you think back to how you lived your life according to this:

"Our past deeds determine us as much as we determined our past deeds". ~George Eliot

Game the fuck on.