The score was 28-27 in favor of Nebraska. The back-up quarterback of the visiting BYU team had moved the ball to Nebraska’s 42 yard line but there was only 1 second left in the game. I could see clearly from my vantage point that three of Nebraska’s blackshirts were lined up in the south end zone waiting for the start of the final play of the game as the crowd of 89,959 held its collective breath. And then…..Nebraska called a time-out.
During the time-out I reviewed the events of the day. Following my wife’s directions we had driven from Omaha to Lincoln, and upon arrival our first order of business was to find a place to park. We both recalled driving over with her father as recently as 2009 and paying $10 for a parking place in a large area of vacant land near the railway line. But much had changed since our last visit to Lincoln and the best we could do for the opening game in 2015 was pay $30 for a spot in a parking garage.
One thing that had definitely not changed was the sheer size and composition of the crowds making their way to the stadium. Somehow I had forgotten to pack my red shirt for the trip to Nebraska (father-in-law Tom would roll over in his grave at this news since he would think the red shirt should be the first item to go into the suitcase) and thus we had to make a quick trip to Huskerhounds to find a suitable substitute. I saw a number of different shirts at that store but there must have been at least a couple of hundred different variations being worn on the streets of Lincoln prior to the start of the game. Many of them referred to the new coach - “I’m Riled Up”, “The Life of Riley” and “Riley Coyote” were just a few of them.
The next step was to buy tickets to the game, and we soon found a man buying and selling these precious items. As soon as we started talking, he asked about my accent. When I told him I was Australian, he initiated a well-informed discussion about the refugee situation in Australia and Europe. He then went on to tell me who his favorite Australian singer was – I thought he would say Olivia Newton-John or Rick Springfield or the Bee Gees – but he astounded me when he said Joan Sutherland (a famous coloratura soprano opera singer who passed away in 2010 and was once called by Luciano Pavarotti the "Voice of the Century"). After a brief discussion of her career we walked away with two tickets in our hands and my head spinning at the thought of a street ticket-seller versed in current affairs and international opera.
Our seats were high up in the south end zone, almost directly behind the goal. This gave us a good view of the whole field as well as the scoreboard screen at the north end. We squeezed into our seats in the 93 degree heat and watched the pre-game activities. However as soon as the game started, everyone in the crowd stood up. I hoped that this was not a new tradition that had begun since our last visit five years ago and that people would not stand for the entire game. I am over 6 feet tall, so standing up does not impair my own view but I feel for those behind me who are shorter, not to mention those who are older and don’t have the stamina to stand up for three hours in a crowded stadium. Eventually the crowd sat down halfway through the first quarter, with the exception of four stubborn holdouts in front of me who stood for a little while longer while everyone else sat.
I was soon brought back to the present moment by the roar of the crowd as the players lined up again for the final play. The ball was snapped, the BYU quarterback dropped back and eventually ran to his right while ignoring the potential receivers who criss-crossed in front of him 20 yards from the well-defended end zone. Eventually succumbing to the relentless pressure from the Nebraska pass rushers, he threw a wobbly Hail Mary pass towards the end zone that seemed to be directed at no-one in particular. In my mind the game was over and Nebraska had won. But somehow, inexplicably, the ball landed in the arms of a white BYU jersey and that jersey held on to the ball as it landed just over the goal line into the end zone. The deafening roar of the red-clad crowd was stunned into silence and replaced by the joyous celebrations of the BYU fans who had been grouped into three small islands among the vast sea of red. I had witnessed a moment that will long be remembered by Nebraska fans young and old, standing or sitting. BYU 33 Nebraska 28.