I spent a large part of my childhood growing up in Papillion, a small (4.2 square miles) suburb of Omaha, Nebraska (it was named the sixth-best place to live by Money Magazine in 2007, thankyouverymuch). With no professional sports teams within 170 miles, Nebraska Cornhusker football pretty much becomes a way of life there (department stores and shopping centers play the radio broadcast over their loud speakers on game days).
I grew up rooting for the Huskers when they were still, ya know, good: Tom Osborne was the head coach, they were competing for a national title every year and the quarterback was always in the running for the Heisman Trophy (I'll argue with anyone that this run by Tommie Frazier is one of the top-five most ridiculous plays in college football history). One of those option-QBs was Eric Crouch, who won the 2001 Heisman and became one of just three quarterbacks in FBS history to rush for 3,000 and pass for 4,000 yards in a career (and earned the acclaimed distinction of having his jersey owned by me; let's just ignore that 2002 Rose Bowl).
Hopefully, that helps to explain just how much it pains me to see him dancing at a New Kids on the Block concert last week.