I learned everything I needed to know about happiness by playing Galaga.
My buddies and I spent far too much time at our local arcade, a hollowed out converted restaurant in a strip mall with bad pizza and crusty carpeting. But it was our sacred space, the place where rows of video games would ding and beep and beckon for the rolls of quarters in our sweaty hands.
Galaga was my game. As my friends scattered I’d rush past Pac-Man and Donkey Kong and Defender and head toward that dark blue machine along the back wall, ready for an afternoon of blasting enemy starships (and also bees?).
That game had everything — explosions, victory music, kidnapping.
There was really no way to “win” at Galaga. Sure, there was a Top 5 leaderboard where you could enter three-letter swear words, but there was no ultimate battle or final round or anything. Like most video games of that era, the game ended when your last ship exploded and that was that. You just played until you ran out of quarters and it was time to go home.
The thrill of the game — the point, even — was conquering the game’s many Stages. After each successful round of blowing up bad guys, the gods of Galaga awarded the player a badge and a moment to reflect on a job well done, another Stage won.
As we get older we often look past our Stages. We start to think like adults, focusing on long term plans and consequences. We save our money, buy some insurance and strive to achieve new high scores in a never-ending quest to be happier than happy.
We are especially guilty of this when raising our kids. It seems there’s never time to dwell on the Stages that have been won — there’s always some new worry to opt into, some warning to pass on, some test to study for. When one problem is solved we happily replace it with another.
We realize too late that when it comes to parenting, the little Stages are the good part. Those are the things you remember — the rides home from the soccer games, the look on his face when he realizes the training wheels aren’t there and somehow the bike is still rolling.
There’s no final Stage to win as a parent, after all. You just keep playing until you run out of quarters and it’s time to go home.
It has been bleak time in Husker Nation in recent years. A parade of misfortune has resulted in win totals of 4, 4, 5, 3, 3 and 4 over the last six seasons.
For a fan base that’s used to national attention and relevance, it’s been a lot to endure.
In the 90’s Nebraska once posted 60 wins over a five-year period; the modern Huskers have 23 wins over the last six seasons. The freshmen on Nebraska’s roster were in sixth grade the last time the Huskers played in a bowl game.
But there is one benefit of a period of sustained failure: it allows a team to hit the reset button. When you’ve wandered the desert aimlessly for six years, any sign of water will raise spirits, and you aren’t burdened by the mirage of being “almost there.” You can just start over.
That is the story of Nebraska football in 2023. The fans get to experience conquering all of college football’s Stages again, one by one, from the beginning.
Last Saturday the Huskers raised their record to 5-3, well on the way to six wins and a bowl game. Stage conquered. Next year may bring seven wins and a better bowl. That’s another Stage. After that eight or nine wins may be on the table, who knows. Bring on the Stages.
On Saturday we heard the old familiar sound of conquering a new Stage. It had been a while. In the third quarter of the Purdue game, while Quintin Newsome high-fived his way to the end zone returning a blocked field goal, the roar of the crowd was different. It was full of something that had been missing. If you’ve heard it before, you’ll recognize it. We’re gonna win this game, we’re gonna be 5-3, we’re going to a bowl game.
There is no feeling like winning a national championship, but Nebraska fans are experiencing the next best thing.
Georgia fans won’t feel the joy of conquering a Stage this year unless they win another national title. Losing the championship game would be a disappointment, missing the postseason playoff a disaster.
Clemson has won at least 10 games for a stunning 12 years in a row, but that’s not enough to keep the Clemson faithful off the ledge after a rocky start in 2023. On Monday a caller to Coach Dabo Swinney’s radio show asked him to explain exactly why he deserves to be paid $10 million a year to go 4-4.
Swinney let him have it:
"And you're part of the problem, to be honest with you. It's people like you —the expectation is greater than the appreciation…
What's happened at Clemson is — we've won so much — it used to be the fun was in the winning. Now even when you win, people like you complain and criticize the coaches and question everything.”
They’ve run out of Stages and they’re not having fun.
A wise man I know likes to say, when relaxing with family, friends and a cocktail on the patio, “these are the good times.” And he is right, every time. I think I’ll remember those times on the patio even more fondly than birthdays and anniversaries and graduations and other organized celebrations.
Husker fans, these are the good times. Something new is being built in Lincoln, and we are sitting on the patio. Pour a drink and celebrate each of these conquered Stages without shame. If you’re going to skip over the good parts of your team’s journey, why bother being a fan in the first place?
We’ve got a pocket full of quarters and the Stages are waiting.
Great perspective on many levels. And Galaga was the only game in which I was decent...still enjoy a game every once in awhile
PS it looks like Connor Stalions fell on his sword
Philosophical Faux...good stuff!