The Cries of Texas

"You jinxed it."

Just when the Nebraska Cornhuskers are three yards away from a first down and hanging the biggest upset of the Bill Callahan Era in the books, Terrence Nunn fumbles, the Texas Longhorns recover and the Huskers, for all intents and purposes, were done. Moments later, a field goal.

Texas 22, Nebraska 20.

A few minutes before T-Nunn's fumble the Huskers had gotten a key defensive stop, were just a few minutes away from sealing the deal on the No.7-ranked Horns and I made reference to "I'm not going home 2-1": My record on these road trips being at 2-0 coming into last weekend.

"You jinxed it."

The guy I had stood beside all game heard my statement, saw me climb a few rows up into the stands to join some other revellers and then turned to me and told me...

"You jinxed it."

A clarification is as follows: That statement was not made in the sense of realization but more in defiance. So it wasn't my way of saying we've won, rather my way of saying "hell no, I didn't drive all this way to lose." That didn't change my feeling, though. What he said rang in my ears but the realization that he was, in my mind, bang on correct was what made me sink.

Why do I say all this? Simply because I'm the most superstitious person you'll likely ever meet. Example: At one point I went to go put my hoody up, realized I hadn't worn it all game long and quickly dropped it knowing that would mess with the cosmic energy in a critical game.

That's just the small stuff. I make the trip to Memorial Stadium on the first night of our arrival every year — in the middle of the night — park in the same spot, touch the "Through These Gates Walk The Greatest Fans In College Football" sign and proceed to tour around the outside.

Back at home, I wear my same jersey every Saturday. A jersey I emblazoned with Turner Gill's name on the back simply because the quarterback who owned No.12 when I bought it had transferred out of UNL. Didn't need his ghost coming back.

So when someone says the words "You jinxed it," and says it with such earnest, well, let's just say it's the kind of thing that hangs in my head... oh, I don't know... all damn weekend.

Listen, no rational thought says superstitions are worth two cents but you're crazy if you think I can entertain that notion. You're talking to a guy who's beard and unwashed Jerome Bettis jersey won the Super Bowl last season.

In the end, however, the loss didn't taint what was my favourite of the three trips so far. We saw an absolutely unforgettable, classic game, were welcomed and received by the unfathomably genuine people of Lincoln and almost immediately began counting the days until 2007's trip.

And that is why an absolutely devastating, heart-wrenching and painful loss like Saturday's can be dealt with, because what we get out of this annual pilgrimmage becomes so much more than just the 60 minutes of football we watch. And consider that coming from the guy who goes to the office on his days off so he can listen to the games online, keeps a yearly schedule/scoreboard from every season on his walls and half thought of stealing a six-foot high statue of Lil Red from a local sporting goods store simply because I liked the thought of having it standing by my desk.

The Canadians for Nebraska banner that made the trip has been left for the good folks at Christo's Pub on O Street with our hopes it will one day grace a wall there. The accompanying t-shirts (Canadians for Nebraska on the front, The Eh Team on the back) are being sent out to different corners of North America, a surprisingly hot commodity considering our phony chapter is half lark, half homage.

The loss stung, the wholly irrational thought of my role in it stung more (sorry T-Nunn) but the greatness of Lincoln in October and the luck I have to be a part of it will ultimately mean more than what shows up on the scoreboard.

But I think I'll wear some lucky socks next time just to be sure.

Go Big Red.