Shatel: Here's to August, when hope for Nebraska football sprints past skepticism

August is coming.

And thats when I always go back to November.

I have no idea where that truck stop was on that late night in 1978.

It might have been Glenwood, Iowa.

Maybe it was Rock Port, Missouri.

Perhaps somewhere in between on dark, lonely I-29.

But I'll never forget everything else about the moment that changed my life.

I had wanted to be a sportswriter since I was 13.

I learned how to type by re-typing columns in the Sporting News.

Joe Falls.

Art Spander.

Dick Young.

Thats who I wanted to be, at the World Series, Super Bowl, Olympics, all that.

Attending college in the Big Eight Conference opened my eyes to a whole new world.

Fall Saturdays.

Nebraska-Oklahoma.

The beauty and drama of college football.

I was hooked.

But it was at that truck stop between Omaha and Kansas City when I said my vows.

It was hours after I had finished writing the Missouri-Nebraska game on Nov.

18, 1978.

It was the weekend I fell in love with a sport.

Sweep Left and downtown Lincoln on Friday night.

The engraved cornerstones at Memorial Stadium.

The glory, indeed.

All that red, under gray skies, high stakes.

And then a spine-tingling thriller.

I left the press box after 10 p.m., and thanks to the one-way streets outside the stadium, I lost my Mizzou colleagues.

And my overnight spot on a hotel room floor.

I headed back to Omaha to see if they were there.

Nope.

So about 12:30 a.m., I left for my house in Kansas City.

About an hour out of Omaha, I needed gas and a Mountain Dew.

Thats when I saw the lights.

A truck stop.

As I went in to pay for the gas, I discovered gold.

There were fresh stacks of newspapers by the front door.

It was the Sunday World-Herald, so thick you needed two hands to carry it.

The color red Husker red popped on the front page in the form of an eye-grabbing photo.

I bought a paper and went back to my car.

For the next hour, I pored through everything, front to back.

I had never seen anything like it.

It was glorious.

The sports section had pages and pages of photos.

Many were large.

Some had arrows pasted on them to show the names of the players and where that specific play was going in the photo.

The attention to detail, and care, was stunning.

There were stories and columns and a What Others Said section showing what other media at the game and around the country had written about Nebraska.

Finally, came the dagger.

I found a sidebar written by the legendary Larry Porter.

Nebraska running back Rick Berns rushed for a school record 255 yards that day.

Locker rooms were open back then.

In his lead paragraphs, Porter took the readers inside with him.

He described Berns peeling off his jersey and shoulder pads at his locker, revealing the red claw marks from where Missouri defenders reached for Berns and missed.

Red.

Claw.

Marks.

Five decades later, I still havent read a better or more incredible description than that.

I imagined the Nebraska fans getting up in a few hours, going through every inch of that paper and reading about the red claw marks on Berns back.

And being drawn back into the game, the highs, the sadness, all the emotions rushing back again.

And it was at that moment I knew that would be my mission: to take readers back through a college football experience.

Let them relive all the moments, the cheers, the pain, the color, all of it.

Be their guide.

Offer a shoulder.

And a perspective.

It didnt dawn on me until years after I arrived in Omaha that I was living my dream in the very same sports section.

That gave me chills.

Still does.

Im not sure if fate brought me here.

I think it was the chance to cover big-time college football at a place where I was surrounded by kindred spirits who shared the same love for the greatest game in the world.

August is when we renew our vows.

And there is no place like Nebraska to do that.

Downtown Lincoln is different in August.

Theres an unmistakable energy.

Anticipation.

When the students return, every day is like game day.

I just returned from a trip around the state.

And as I drove through every small town, I imagined the same feeling there, too.

Football season is here.

The people will be ready.

The great thing about August is that no matter what happened last fall or in the offseason and more happens now in the offseason than ever every team has a fresh lease.

A new hope.

Throw in the hunger factor for Husker fans and this August is going to be electric.

The sportswriter skeptic in me still wonders.

The bold predictions come with too many questions.

Can Nebraska make a 40-yard field goal consistently? Can John Butlers defense get stops? Can the Huskers steal a game the way Iowa did last November, with a sack-and-strip and a field goal at the buzzer? Is this finally the year of the offensive line? How stout is that rebuilt D-line? You dont want to think about depth at quarterback or running back.

Better to ponder Dylan Raiolas talent, work ethic and growth chart.

The impact of Dana Holgorsen.

And Mike Ekeler.

If it all hits, it could hit big.

Go for it.

Its August.

The drink tumblers in every bar around Nebraska are half-full.

August is my therapy.

The game has changed too much.

The incredible money, players like mercenaries, rosters that change like hockey lines.

The media game is changing.

Now the good folks can read my column on their phones on Saturday night.

Whatever you need.

Peel it all away and we still have August, when its just about players and practice and a dream.

And maybe that reminds you of how and when you fell in love with this great game a game that can be cruel, but a game that none of us can ever leave.

Now, if youll excuse me, Im going to head down I-29.

I think I see a truck stop ahead.

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