Mcbride, 'Husker Defense Seek Redemption Saturday
LINCOLN, Neb. - For Charlie McBride, last Sept. 21 was probably the longest, most painful day of his 16 years at Nebraska. He watched his young defense disintegrate in front of his eyes.
He saw it allow 27 unanswered points to the University of Washington. It meekly surrendered four touchdowns in the final 16 minutes.
Nebraska lost last September's song to Washington 36-21, and afterward, all Charlie McBride wanted to do was go home, spend some quiet time with his family and nurse his wounds.
In college football, Saturday night is supposed to be a time for physical and psychological healing.
But on that Saturday night, the soothing silence in the McBride house was disturbed repeatedly by the nerve-jangling ring of the telephone.
Friends offering condolences? Members of the administration telling him to keep his chin up? Or maybe boosters offering spiritual insight?
Not in Lincoln after a lost Saturday.
These phone calls were ugly, angry, obscene. One guy, McBride estimates, called 30 times.
"That's common," said McBride, the good-natured Nebraska defensive coordinator, a week before Saturday's rematch in Seattle with Washington. "But if these are the fans who are behind you, that's pretty disappointing."
Football Saturdays in Lincoln are religious holidays. Depending on the score, the coaches and players are either deities or demons.
"After the Washington game, it seemed the phone calls were coming from pretty much the same people," McBride said. "But one was kind of interesting. A guy called and said he was a booster from Indiana (University) and said he wanted to buy my contract out from Nebraska for $1.5 million. My son answered that call and told the guy, `that's way more money than you'll need.'
"I understand the calls. If I was sitting in the stands and didn't know a lot about the game, I'd say those things, too. Usually when we play a bad game, I figure I'll get a lot of phone calls from the guys in the bars out in western Nebraska at some time in the night."
The phone calls come only after losses. It's part of human nature.
"I think the phone calls hurt any human being," McBride said. "Even though it's only a few individuals, it hurts. But if you're in this business, you better learn to live with it. When I was younger it bothered me more. I think it hurts the rest of my family more than me."
McBride escaped last season's phone calls early the next morning by watching the horror film from the game the night before.
He watched Billy Joe Hobert's quarterback draw. He saw Jay Barry run past a diving linebacker en route to an 81-yard score.
He said Washington probably was the best team he'd seen Nebraska play in 15 years at home. He should know. He saw all of Washington's 618 total yards. All 27 unanswered points.
"In the second half, they just blew us out of the stadium," McBride said. "We gave up 600 yards and that was a tough thing for the coaches and a tough thing for the players. I mean, Washington took us to the cleaners in the last quarter and a half.
"Having played both Washington and Miami last year, I would have voted Washington the national champs."
McBride's defense proved it could take a hit. After Washington, it hung together, won a share of the Big Eight title with Colorado and was invited to play Miami in the Orange Bowl.
"You hate to say it, but sometimes you learn more from losing a game than winning it," McBride said. "These kids are still learning what college football is all about. I think we have kids who can play, but we don't have the defensive depth that we've had in the past."
The crank phone calls mean little compared with the delicious anticipation of a week such as this. Preparing for Washington, designing a defense to stop Hobert and Barry and Napoleon Kaufman, are the types of challenges that drive the Charlie McBrides of college football.
"You want to play teams like Washington," McBride said. "You have something you can accomplish."
A Washington loss would be an upset, everywhere but in Nebraska. To most Cornhusker fans, every Nebraska win is expected and every Nebraska loss is a sacrilege.
To McBride a loss means a night of phone calls from the lunatic fringe in those bright red jackets. It's an occupational hazard.
But the loonies should remember. More than 80 percent of McBride's football Saturday nights at Nebraska have been quiet. Silence is the sound of success in the McBride house.