We arrived at Beaver Stadium a little over an hour before the game began and after chatting with Curt Dukes' kin we found our seats with about 55:00 remaining on the scoreboard. We had each smuggled in an airplane bottle of Tanqueray Gin and Absolut Citron that had been purchased by yours truly the day before GameDay. We were going to consume these in our stadium bought drinks as opportunity provided, namely when some schmuck was causing so much commotion the usher wouldn't watch us drop them into our drinks. Unfortunately, as you all well know, we had little cause to use these as celebratory spirits and mostly used them to drown our sorrows. Scratch that, Chris used them to drown his sorrows while relieving himself in the restroom. I dropped the Citron into a pink strawberry Slurpee like concoction, completely ruining the taste of it but giving it a nice kick. My Tanqueray remained alive until the following day. Andrew decided to quaff neither even though my huge form was serving as a front line so that the usher (who in hindsight was probably drunk too) would be none the wiser. For shame. Regardless, I documented the game somewhat with my digital camera and this is what I can remember of it:

This is the pregame and the Huskers have just taken the field. We were in the Penn State season ticket section so we were naturally red wearing pariahs in a sea of navy and white. However we were tipsy and loud, and most importantly we had every indication that Nebraska would steamroll over any team in their way. Big 10? Yah, right. Visions of Baylor taking down Joe Paterno's team wouldn't have seemed so far fetched in our state. Jammal Lord looked strong and confident. The Blackshirts were flashing each other gang signs and giving the throat slice motion to any hecklers in the crowd. All was well and good in the Husker Nation. We were even part of the record setting 110,000 and some change that had filtered, bamboozled, or snuck their way into Beaver Stadium. All the signs were in place for a record setting victory. What we hadn't figured was whose victory it would be.



Skip to halftime. This was the Nittany Lion marching band. Penn State is up 13-7 at this time. Jammal Lord is on the sidelines, breathing hard and exclaiming "There's no place like home." while tapping his cleats together. Darrahan Diedrick has been stopped mostly. Thunder Collins is still under suspension so he has been watching from the sidelines with a 40 of malt. There have been countless third downs. Penn State has made half of theirs. Nebraska might have made a quarter. And the punts. Soooo many punts. We are happy to be down 13-7 considering how we have played. But this has happened before. We are not worried. We are in fact too drunk to be worried (except for Chris, who has been calling everyone on the field multiple expletives). I blink my eyes again, hoping to see at least one of the Peters brothers appear magically on the sideline. I will even settle for Kyle Vanden Bosch. No quarter is given me.




I must have somehow known that the first picture was so blurry that I opted to take another. Bear in mind this was taken soon after the Citron snack but before the pretzel I wolfed down later at halftime. Apparently I was not all that sober yet because the phantom thumb is back. And it brought a friend. We were talking with Penn State alumni, who are all generally more sober than us. There was even a hottie who sat directly on my right. Unfortunately her boyfriend was just to her right. We talked about football a little bit, mostly in the second half. I am too sober and NU has played too poorly for me to talk shit. They were cool people anyway. There were a couple more hotties that revealed themselves when my immediate neighbors moved to get refreshments. Sadly, they were all bedecked in rings. I suddenly didn't feel so badly that my wearing Husker red wasn't going to get me laid, I had no real chance anyway.




This was a Penn State Awards Ceremony, for lifelong All-Stars that had come from the university. I remember Lynn Swann being mentioned but little else. I think he was the blur right to the left of the other little blur.















This is the fourth quarter with about 7 or 8 minutes left. We had moved from our seats next to the rim of the stadium to the end zone in disgust. Penn State is up 33-7. There is no hope. Jammal Lord had just thrown his 2nd interception of the second half, sealing the victory for the Nittany Lions. The Blackshirts were scattered about the field haphazardly like dominoes on just about every play in the second half. My stomach hurts from the Blue Beast that has been fighting in my system with the greasy wings like two union bosses bumping chests. My back also hurts from being hunched forward most of the day. I hate life. Chris is drunk and furious and his face is beet red. He is vowing not to let any of the NU coaches live if he encounters them in a dark alley. Andrew has begun chilling and cheering with the Penn State fans and considers coloring his face in navy.




We are weaving our way through mounds of cheering fans who are all crying for blood. I decide I want to take a picture of some of the lovely Nittany Lion cheerleaders, struggling desperately for the silver lining in this game. Amazingly some fartknocke steps out in front of the camera the exact second I snap the shot. Nothing has been easy this game. At this point we have heard the cheer "WE ARE" and "PENN STATE" 1,000,000 times. If anything it has gotten less melodic throughout the evening. They have already broken out the "Sha-na-na-na, Hey hey hey, goodbye!" and it is barely halfway through the last quarter. Chris is now going into specifics about what he is going to do to Craig Bohl should he come across him later on in the evening.





I finally succeed in getting a picture of the Lion cheerleaders. Unfortunately they are now all sitting down. As an added bonus I get interference from some media types standing right in front of them. On the plus side, I do get a nice shot of that hot redhead's behind. The last touchdown has just been scored, and we are numb to disappointment. We are discussing how the defense fell apart in the second half and how for the third time in a row, a ranked team has picked apart Bohl's pride and joy. There is talk amongst the crowd about Zach Mills for Heisman. It is funny how playing Nebraska can make someone's Heisman Trophy this year. All we can do is wait for seconds of the clock to painfully run out.






Wait! The cheerleaders are standing up to lead the crowd in another cheer! The Nittany Lion faithful want to make this moment last as long as possible, which is understandable. I use this opportunity to snap another picture of the pom-pommed girlies which is naturally blurrier than Thunder Collins' sight after downing a bottle of corn whiskey. I am moderately sobered up at this point so I have to blame fatigue, discomfort, and disappointment on this flub. Oh, well. At least the finger didn't make an appearance.







As soon as the Husker team was in the process of leaving the field, Chris sprung into action like a bat out of hell. The first wave of red and white to get back to the locker room consisted of the starters and the head coaches. Chris took this opportunity to scream at the top of his lungs to Solich: "Time for a coaching change. Time for a coaching change." and repeated it once more. As the remnants of Blue Beast were busy eating my stomach lining out, I did not get to observe this, but I have Chris' assurance that Solich looked up as if hearing him loud and clear. I did not think to snap a picture until the last few third stringers and assistants were leaving the field. State College's finest were stationed all around the field but I am still surprised a flood of fans did not pour out, taking down the goal posts, the sod, and any hapless red and white that might have been in their way. Take a good look at this picture, ladies and gentlemen, this is defeat.