Think about it. Here was have hundreds of thousands of fans with a decade or more of built up frustration. Most have plenty of college eligibility. Have about 50 per week walk on as temporary linebackers. The pure, unadulterated fan-range should give them enough adrenaline for two or three good aggressive attacks on up-the-middle runs or pass rushes before their spines snap like twigs from the stress of hitting much, much more athletic people. But this is a sacrifice most of us are willing to make. Heck, some of us (but not me) may even be in some kind of shape, and last even longer. And finally, we can use the nearly guaranteed injuries to stop the clock in key situations.

Additionally, it will make us nationally relevant. The publicity will be staggering... the only fanbase in the nation literally risking their lives for the team. We'll make the not-top-ten every week (or are we already doing that? I don't want to know, actually). Recruits will see that dedication. They'll appreciate the feverish foolish fervor. They can visit the graveyard the school will set up for those of us that don't make it. They'll see the towering monument depicting the gruesome outcome of our struggles.

And there's benefit for the fans, too. Not only does it contribute to the Husker's football team, but before you are carted off to the hospital, you'll be able to sit on the sideline. Best seats in the house. For free. Also, you may be able to keep your blood-stained jersey if the paramedics don't cut it up too much on the ride to the hospital. Bonus swag. And It will also let the more frustrated amongst us work out some aggression... or at least will weed us out of the population. And in the worst case, maybe it doesn't help the team, but at least we'll know we tried... or else we'll be dead and won't care.

I'll lead by example. I'll send this to Mike Riley and I hope to be in the next game. I'll be the short fat guy the announcers will say, "He's a football player? I mean he weighs enough, but he looks really small." Then on the next play, I'll channel all my frustrations, and with a mighty cry of "HUSKER POWER" I'll launch myself kamikaze-style, without regard for my safety (who may be playing near the line to compensate for having a fat dufus in at linebacker), into the opponent's offensive line. You'll be amazed as my fan-rage-power propels me through the line and allows me to hit the quarterback with all the momentum can be stored in my considerably-sized stomach fat. You'll whisper to yourself, "There goes DarthFluttershy... he died as he lived: as a fat dufus."

Maybe it'll be a very late hit. I'll surely be called for targeting. But screw it, we all knew we were going to give those yards up regardless, if we're honest. And maybe I'll disrupt the play. Maybe the sheer insanity of it will make the QB miss a throw. Maybe every bone in my body will suffer compression fractures like I was just run over by a freight train. Maybe he'll be so disturbed by the gore covering his jersey he won't be able to continue. Maybe he'll be rattled knowing that the next time he sees an expendable husker fan linebacker, that he's gonna get hit, even if he throws it. More likely, he'll just be upset that he just killed a fat dufus who was clearly insane, but maybe he won't want to do that again and that will throw off his game.