It's official: as of today, The University of Nebraska becomes a member of the Big
Ten Eleven Twelve Ten, so let's take the day to welcome our newfound bros over at Corn Nation, from the Land of Lincoln, to, uh, Lincoln.
Today our amorphous blob of 11 becomes a family of 12, easily divided into two six-packs. On this day, as cringe-worthy as the division naming is, we become legendary (at the behest of Loretta, I'm now linking my hip-hop references, although I'd rather invoke the absolutely chills-worthy Jordan campaign that came out the year after Kanye spit that bar.) (Sub-note: I was once a co-writer on a blog devoted to essay-length analyses of Jordan commercials. I wrote one post which was never published, the blog ceased to exist after the first post.) (Where was I?)
Oh yeah. From an awkward, asymmetric lump we have become two six-packs of a larger 12, more easily carryable - one in each hand! - without wondering which douche took the 12th can out of the second pack. We're more complete, but enough about us.
Nebroskans, this may seem weird. Scratch that: Nebroskans, this will feel weird. Moving always does. You can't find the light-switches for weeks. You reach for your cell phone on that table you used to have on your left side that isn't there anymore. Ever drop a deuce and reach to the right for the flusher, only to find its on the left? Our habits become vestigial. Sometimes it's permanent: my family moved apartments a few months before I came to college, four years later, I still feel weird sitting on our "new" couch and am constantly surprised by the water pressure in our showerhead. (This mainly has to do with the piddly stream that comes out of every single dorm shower I ever used.)
Though you'll be watching the same sports, you'll be playing on what appears to be foreign soil against complete strangers. (If it helps, pretend we're Kansas State, because we're purple and called the Wildcats. Actually, on second thought, NEVER EVER PRETEND WE'RE KANSAS STATE.)
We live in a world where few things make sense: some teams have losing records and draw sellouts, some teams are bowl-eligible in four straight seasons and nobody bats an eye, sometimes good schools let in idiots who like prattling on about hip-hop. Some people, given the option to live anywhere in the world, choose to live in a state which is pretty much an empty cornfield devoid of human interaction. (Don't worry, I'm talking about Iowa.)
Nebraska as a member of the Big Ten is not one of these things. We few, we flyover few have a lot in common. As our state's highways are surrounded on both sides by miles of flat land with the occasional silo, our fall Saturdays are filled with brats and beer and of course, football. Sure you feel connected to your southern comrades and think you'll soon regret leaving a land filled with football teams passing the ball and meth labs, but I believe you'll find your stereotypes to be mistaken, that you'll soon find solace in our similarities: we have a fellow named Dan Persa who brings quite the passing game, not the three-yards-and-a-cloud-of-dust type of ball the Big Ten supposedly feasts on, and I just worked three months in Crystal Lake, and I'll be damned if this part of the world doesn't have our fair share of meth labs. You'll find you belong here.
We bring not a single Longhorn Network, but rather a conference-wide one, what some have called a "Big Ten Network". Instead of losing money in droves, our conference generates it, giving even schools like Northwestern a cut. Instead of an anachronistic conference name indicating that we used to have more members, we have one indicating that we used to have less. It may seem idealistic, like a peaceful utopia, but that's mainly because the Big 12 is a gigantic firetire poopstorm of a conference and Jesus why did you guys even stay there in the first place?
Things will be confusing for a while. Leaving a gigantic firetire poopstorm isn't easy, sort of like how they rescue kids who are starving and they want to eat huge amounts of food but instead they have to slowly wean them up because their stomachs couldn't handle the large amounts of food, or like when MC Hammer bought a gold-plated cage for his tigers and now is broke. But you're here now, and it'll be that way for a while. So get used to it. Things are different here, and they're better.
Sippin' on Purple.
P.S. From here on out, it's just hate.
P.P.S. Screw Iowa?