Dwelling in the Cellar: Ruminations from the Basement of a 15-Game Losing Streak
The Nebraska Cornhusker men’s basketball team hasn’t won a game since January Seventh.
That’s back when there was still 48 Democrats running for President of the United States, we were all still chest-high in our New Year’s resolutions, and the Coronavirus was but a fleck of infected saliva phlegming it’s way into the air via a non-elbow-contained cough.
It was simpler times, back then.
Back when the Huskers had just beaten the Iowa Hawkeyes at home, draining 10 threes in the process, and notching their second win in the Big Ten conference. In short, the season was still theirs for the taking.
So. How did we get here?
How did the SS Fred crash into a Hoiceberg and leave Nebraska fans scrambling for lifeboats while the head coach and his chiseled jaw were left to stand thunderstruck at the wheel of a failed maiden voyage?
How did a team full of athletes and quickness and early-season flashes of promise end up so perplexing trash that we don’t need to just practice our free throws, we need to burn some motherfucking sage at both free throw lines and bring in a backcourts worth of priests just to try to exorcise whatever head-spinning possession seems to have been voodoo’ed upon us?
The expectations were appropriately low, with most Husker fans understanding the gargantuan challenges facing Hoiberg and his team of newbies. You know in the beginning of every ninja movie ever, when the #NinjaFightingForce is just learning how to work together? One gets nunchucked in the crotch, another gets tossed off a building, and they keep getting into one another’s way? I think a lot of us expected that.
But, somehow we’ve managed to limbo under that already shin-level bar like the surprisingly limber drunk at the office Christmas party.
Certainly, Hoiberg was the right hire at the right time. He essentially had a roster full of dudes who were wholly unfamiliar with one another, his system, and the Big Ten’s style of play. He grabbed the talent that he could — which ended up being a lot of JuCo talent and a few transfers willing to head to Lincoln on short notice — and desperately grabbed onto Thorir Thorbjarnarson to keep him around.
With a lauded ability to take exactly these kind of Polaroid players, slap them together, and come out ahead, we were all hoping that Hoiberg would treat this season like the guy slapping Flex seal on the side of the water tank:
It didn’t pan out.
Because, at Nebraska, there’s never just one hole to plug. At Nebraska, that whole tank is full of cracks and leaks and it’s being filled with rusty pipes that have lead in them. And piranhas. You get the point.
This isn’t to say that there wasn’t anything enjoyable about this year, or that there weren’t any bright spots. But, you absolutely have to go fracking for positivity, if you’re looking to polish up the dingy 15-game losing skid that has ended the season and many of the alleged good things from this year have a Andre Almeida sized asterisk next to them.
And, this isn’t to say that Hoiberg hasn’t done what he can with what he’s got. His offense certainly appears to get players open looks. Making those looks, though, has proven to be significantly more difficult that we would have hoped.
Is there any reason be excited for the Big Ten Tournament? Doubtful.
Is there a reason to panic? Nah.
The good thing about streaks? They’re like The Irishman: even if it feel interminable, they can’t last forever.
Now, if anyone needs me: I’m going to be scattering chicken bones while having a sage bonfire.
