Redux
Donor
Scene: A dimly lit campsite, a fire mildly burning it's last log. Redux clicks on a flashlight and aims it at his face.
Hey, you guys ever hear of the Mike Riley Curse?
Member of camping group: Is that like the Frank Solich curse?
MUUAAAHAHAHAHHHAAAAA! No my friends, this is far FAR worse! It all started in the Winter of 2014. Nebraskans had enjoyed no less than 9 wins a year for the better part of a decade but still grew restless for days of old when 1 or 2 losses a year was the norm, when trophies stockpiled in broom closets, when sideline demeanor was that of a discarded marionette. So collectively, the fan base ousted the meaney face man (at least many like to think they did) and entrusted a man dubbed the Ginger Asassin to find their next man in charge.
The GA moved quickly, almost like he knew what he was doing. But nobody could have known what was to come. He entrusted Nebraska and their team to a man known as Smilin Mike Riley, a man nobody had ever seen or heard of before. They say he had come from a land called Corvallis but many speculated as to if such a place ever existed. Some say Smilin Mike never even existed before that day, conjured only by those who cried for a calmer sideline and happy faces. Smilin Mike Riley wasted little time implementing his style of football. Gone were the days when Nebraska would simply pound the rock for 3 yards to pickup a 3rd and 2 for a first down, now Nebraska used dump screens to a Tight End (whateverthehellthatis) in Hope's of 10 yards. It didn't take long for opposing teams to figure out this approach. Yet Smilin Mike kept on smilin.
Nebraska lost it's first opener for the first time in almost 30 years, and the losses didn't stop there. By year 3 Smilin Mike was closing in on the Devil's number...
Member of camping group: You mean 666?!!
Bahahaha, no child. I speak of a far worse numeral, I speak of .500!
Camping group collectively GASPS!
After two and a half years of less than mediocre football, the Ginger Asassin was slain. His conjured up mythical being Smilin Mike was exiled, but not before he could complete his curse of .500 and cast darkness over all of Nebraska. He implemented his band of demons to turn our team into ginger bread men. He recruited entitled kids from out west to leave Nebraska high and dry in areas of need. He ate every last sprinkle in Lancaster county. His curse was complete but people were too busy celebrating his exile that they didn't even see it.
Soon, a white knight was given the reings. The prodigal son, a native of the land, Sir Scott Frost was home to save everyone. The celebration continued and the kool aid flowed even heavier all the while the Mike Riley Curse brewed larger and more menacing. The signs were there although nobody wanted to see them. It started with the first game being canceled just as it began. People blamed the weather, but those in the know could tell it was the curse awakening! The very next week against an old foe the curse struck again in the form of a 14 point deficit, Sir Frost and his team clawed back and almost came away victorious but it was not meant to be. Even his hand picked Quarterback couldn't escape without injury. The next week a much simpler task in defeating a team from the Belt of Suns. This too was not meant to be as the curse again reared its ugly head in the form of a 17 point defecit the team could not overcome. Nebraska was 0-2 three weeks into the season. Then a monumental task in the form of Wolverines on a journey to the north, the team was completely blindsided by the curse this week and fell early and hard while the curse just smiled knowing that Smilin Mike Riley would be proud of the "effort".
Some say Mike Riley still haunts Memorial Stadium to this very day, echoes of "golly" can still be heard in North Stadium. There is no telling when the curse will end, it could be weeks or it could be years. But it only took Smilin Mike 3 seasons to instill the mentality of .500 is a lofty goal, a task nobody thought possible in Lincoln. Nebraska stays home this week to battle a scrappy Purdue team, still very much inflicted with the toxic curse so nothing is certain and a once bright future remains cloudy waiting for the day Sir Frost can raise his arms victorious once again while wearing a red N. Until then, the curse will wreak havoc on Fall Saturday's, feeding off negativity and excuses. Until the curse can be broken by Sir Frost, Smilin Mike will continue to haunt Nebraska.
Hey, you guys ever hear of the Mike Riley Curse?
Member of camping group: Is that like the Frank Solich curse?
MUUAAAHAHAHAHHHAAAAA! No my friends, this is far FAR worse! It all started in the Winter of 2014. Nebraskans had enjoyed no less than 9 wins a year for the better part of a decade but still grew restless for days of old when 1 or 2 losses a year was the norm, when trophies stockpiled in broom closets, when sideline demeanor was that of a discarded marionette. So collectively, the fan base ousted the meaney face man (at least many like to think they did) and entrusted a man dubbed the Ginger Asassin to find their next man in charge.
The GA moved quickly, almost like he knew what he was doing. But nobody could have known what was to come. He entrusted Nebraska and their team to a man known as Smilin Mike Riley, a man nobody had ever seen or heard of before. They say he had come from a land called Corvallis but many speculated as to if such a place ever existed. Some say Smilin Mike never even existed before that day, conjured only by those who cried for a calmer sideline and happy faces. Smilin Mike Riley wasted little time implementing his style of football. Gone were the days when Nebraska would simply pound the rock for 3 yards to pickup a 3rd and 2 for a first down, now Nebraska used dump screens to a Tight End (whateverthehellthatis) in Hope's of 10 yards. It didn't take long for opposing teams to figure out this approach. Yet Smilin Mike kept on smilin.
Nebraska lost it's first opener for the first time in almost 30 years, and the losses didn't stop there. By year 3 Smilin Mike was closing in on the Devil's number...
Member of camping group: You mean 666?!!
Bahahaha, no child. I speak of a far worse numeral, I speak of .500!
Camping group collectively GASPS!
After two and a half years of less than mediocre football, the Ginger Asassin was slain. His conjured up mythical being Smilin Mike was exiled, but not before he could complete his curse of .500 and cast darkness over all of Nebraska. He implemented his band of demons to turn our team into ginger bread men. He recruited entitled kids from out west to leave Nebraska high and dry in areas of need. He ate every last sprinkle in Lancaster county. His curse was complete but people were too busy celebrating his exile that they didn't even see it.
Soon, a white knight was given the reings. The prodigal son, a native of the land, Sir Scott Frost was home to save everyone. The celebration continued and the kool aid flowed even heavier all the while the Mike Riley Curse brewed larger and more menacing. The signs were there although nobody wanted to see them. It started with the first game being canceled just as it began. People blamed the weather, but those in the know could tell it was the curse awakening! The very next week against an old foe the curse struck again in the form of a 14 point deficit, Sir Frost and his team clawed back and almost came away victorious but it was not meant to be. Even his hand picked Quarterback couldn't escape without injury. The next week a much simpler task in defeating a team from the Belt of Suns. This too was not meant to be as the curse again reared its ugly head in the form of a 17 point defecit the team could not overcome. Nebraska was 0-2 three weeks into the season. Then a monumental task in the form of Wolverines on a journey to the north, the team was completely blindsided by the curse this week and fell early and hard while the curse just smiled knowing that Smilin Mike Riley would be proud of the "effort".
Some say Mike Riley still haunts Memorial Stadium to this very day, echoes of "golly" can still be heard in North Stadium. There is no telling when the curse will end, it could be weeks or it could be years. But it only took Smilin Mike 3 seasons to instill the mentality of .500 is a lofty goal, a task nobody thought possible in Lincoln. Nebraska stays home this week to battle a scrappy Purdue team, still very much inflicted with the toxic curse so nothing is certain and a once bright future remains cloudy waiting for the day Sir Frost can raise his arms victorious once again while wearing a red N. Until then, the curse will wreak havoc on Fall Saturday's, feeding off negativity and excuses. Until the curse can be broken by Sir Frost, Smilin Mike will continue to haunt Nebraska.
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