Every once in a while, it’s good to dethrone the king.

Humility is a powerful trait, and in football it’s nearly always a good thing.

That being said, the Nebraska-bred, overprotective, beloved warmth for the presumably infallible Cornhuskers makes me, well … want to puke.

For those noncollege football fans, Nebraska happened upon a national championship last year.

I spent the summer in Omaha, Neb., as a sports intern for the Omaha World-Herald. The paper was great and my co-workers were terrific, but if I see one more “Finished Business in ’94” bumper sticker, there’s gonna be a hit-and-run.

The state of Nebraska is enthralled — to a fault — with Husker football.

Kids grow up not with Winnie the Pooh and Care Bear dolls, but with little plastic figurines of Cornhuskers, which by the way, borders on the nation’s stupidest mascot. It’s right up there with the Banana Slugs from the University of California-Santa Cruz.

On one typically slow summer sports day, I was sent to Duncan, Neb., to interview a high school baseball standout. Since Duncan has a population of two, including cats and dogs, I wasn’t too familiar with its location.

So I called the father of the high- schooler I was supposed to meet to get directions.

“Once you get in the city limits,” he said as I was trying to hold back laughter at the term “city,” “just count three houses down from Corey Schlesinger’s home.”

My question, which seemed obvious at the time, was: “Huh?”

“You don’t know where Corey Schlesinger lives?” dad asked.

He found my response amusing. “I don’t even know who Corey Schlesinger is,” I said.

As it turns out, Schlesinger was a Husker fullback last year who fell into the end zone during the Orange Bowl. “Sorry Dad. My bad.”

But when it came down to crunch time, my lack of knowledge about obscure Nebraska football players didn’t matter. As you pull into Duncan, the biggest, and only, billboard in town says: “Welcome to Duncan, home of #40 Corey Schlesinger.”

There’s even a map that shows you how to get to the Schlesinger home — well, not really, but it’s cheesy nonetheless.

In light of my summer brush with the good ‘ol boys on the Husker patrol, I was surprised, and admittedly a little amused, to learn that there is trouble in gridiron paradise.

It seems Heisman Trophy candidate Lawrence Phillips, Nebraska’s star running back, who scored four touchdowns only last Saturday, had a little brush with the law. I guess he just didn’t realize that pushing a woman down three flights of stairs probably wasn’t the most upstanding thing to do.

He’s sorry now, though. Phillips’ attorney, Hal Anderson said: “He is very, very upset with himself.”

Phillips’ backup, Damon Benning, was also recently charged with assault. And yet another former Nebraska player is scheduled to stand trial for attempted second-degree murder.

I guess Lincoln isn’t all footballs and roses after all.

The alleged actions of Nebraska’s “bad boys” are deplorable and I do have sympathy for their supposed victims. Violence, even for Husker football players, should never be condoned.

But if any good is to come out of the situation, let’s hope the Huskers’ troubles off the field will serve as a humbling experience for Nebraska fans. Just once, I’d like to cross the Missouri River without seeing a million miniature Cornhuskers suction-cupped to car windows.

And maybe, over time and with some serious counseling, Duncan will lose the billboard.

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Chris Miller is a junior in journalism from Marshalltown. He is the head news editor of the Daily.