I woke up Sunday morning, poured some coffee, kissed my wife, played with my puppies, prayed to my Tom Osborne autographed program from the 97 bowl game against Tennessee and then I cried a little.
I cried tears of joy, tears of hope, tears for the future.
Mike Riley is the greatest coach in the history of coaches and Tommy Armstrong is the greatest quarterback to ever strap on the scarlet and cream. What we witnessed Saturday was the future, ladies and gentlemen. It doesn't matter where we've been, it matters where we're going. "Where are we going", you ask? The National Championship. I could argue that maybe this year we should be considered by the board but MOST DEFINITELY NEXT YEAR.
Holy shit is the future bright. This Husker team's future is so bright it's like truck headlights through the rear view mirror of a Honda Civic while its driving down a highway on the sun. You guys better hold onto your butts because the train to victory land is departing, it doesn't have an emergency brake and the gas pedal is glued to the floor.
Next stop: Rutgers.
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