My Bad Joe, My Bad

Joe, I'm sorry. I had you all wrong.

I saw a 6'1", 200 pound kid that looked way too much like a D-III linebacker and not enough like a D-I quarterback. Like many of my fellow Husker fans, I looked at you and thought of one phrase: "career backup". Sure, we heard reports about you being a "gamer", about you knowing the system better than even our beloved Zac Taylor, about the respect your teammates had for you. But still we weren't convinced. In a world where style is too often glorified over substance, we gave you a once-over and looked elsewhere on the depth chart. We talked about incoming stud recruits. We drooled over high-profile transfers. We did all we could to ignore you, but you kept fighting like you always had, and even more impressive is the manner in which you did it. In an era of me-first athletes, you put your head down, gritted your teeth, and kept fighting. You said all the right things, supported the guys in front of you, even though deep down in your gut burned a fire to compete that few of us could fully comprehend.

When a kid named Sam Keller announced that he would transfer to Nebraska and sit out a year in hopes of becoming a starter for his senior season, Husker nation rejoiced. Sure, we wouldn't have Zac anymore, but at least we had someone coming in who could bridge the divide between him and whatever hot recruit would eventually take over. Yeah, we knew you were there Joe, but we didn't give it much thought. You were our fall-back insurance policy, something you could rely on in a pinch but certainly not the one you'd look to first. To make a comparison, Sam was the hottest girl in school who we suddenly had a shot with, and you were the girl next door. Sure, we had a soft spot for you for all the sacrifices you'd made, but look at Sam. A coach's dream, a 6'4", 220 pound prototype QB who would come in and operate our inconsistent West Coast Offense like a well oiled machine. The problem was, the hottest girl in school had some maddening faults. A little reckless. Didn't protect the ball nearly as much as we'd have liked. And when you finally got your shot, you showed why the one next door is the one who usually wins our hearts. It took a while for us to find out, but when we did, it was a thing of beauty: 2 games, 915 yards, and 11 TDs. Kind of like taking the girl next door to prom and finding out that she's a 10 when you had thought she was a 6.

I realize that it's only two games. I realize that this piece might have some seemingly gay innuendos with all the hot girl/girl next door comparisons (it's the most accurate one I could think of, but kind of derailed when I realized I was talking about dudes). But that's neither here nor there. What I'm trying to say Joe, is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I underestimated your ability and your heart. And while we are only in the first couple of chapters of your legacy here, I'm excited to see what kind of ending you write.