It’s Saturday in September, a day that for the first forty years of my life meant only one thing: college football. Growing up in Nebraska, Cornhusker football was more than an idle distraction, it was religion. Every year I memorized the entire starting line-up and the quarterbacks and running backs down to the fourth string. Back then with fewer channels seeing a Husker game on TV was a rare thing and I would never dream of missing it no matter what other commitments I had. I remember attending Saturday weddings this time of year and the frantic dash people made to their cars afterward to turn on the radio, desperate to know the score.