Tuesday morning, we woke to the first snow on the ground of the season. Although the foliage season has passed its peak (like most of us of a certain age), there are still some leaves on the trees. And while the calendar doesn’t officially flip to winter for several more weeks, we know what’s coming.
As I walked campus on Tuesday morning and past the stadium, the biting wind and snow on the ground reminded me that just three games remain this fall. Just one of them will be played in Beaver Stadium. Each year, once football season starts, it seems to blow past us before we even know it.
In a week there will be young men who showed up as 18-year-olds and stayed for four or five years standing in the tunnel of Beaver Stadium one last time. And in the moments of your youth, when you compete on that field you buy into the seeming immortality that the fans grant you.
Then in the blink of an eye, the seasons have all passed and you’re in the tunnel for one last game. The roar you heard when you broke into the open on a run, or made a great block, or made a big hit… they all fade from the present to past in what seems like seconds.
And when potential’s promise fails to reach the heights of our greatest hopes, there is a bittersweet sting to that last walk through that tunnel.
“Gradually, the light of our dreams turns into the monster of our nightmares. They become things not done, possibilities not lived.” —Paulo Coelho
The reality is that only one team each year reaches the summit of college football. For every other team that has the tradition, talent and resources to challenge for that summit, the moment when the dream passes during a tough season can be crushing. For Penn State this fall, that moment happened far earlier than we thought.
As someone who coached the game for two decades, the sting of defeat lasts in the mind in most cases far longer than the memories of triumph. It is innate in the DNA of true competitors that the moments when we competed at our highest level and fell just short haunt us.
But even as those moments remain, there is a love of having competed, of having stood in the arena to measure ourselves against a team that had worked hard, prepared well and had the same level of talent.
This fall, the aspirations of a team and its fanbase came crashing down as losses mounted. How quickly the adulation of many turned toward condemnation.
What struck many was the anger that was stirred within the fanbase. College football fans are reacting with more vitriol than any time in recent memory. There are reasons for that.
The game has become professionalized. Coaches and players are making a lot of money. Fans see the players as something more than just student-athletes playing a game. The proliferation of online gambling has fans more “invested” than ever in the outcome of the games.
The desire to troll one’s rivals on social media used to be the domain of fans, but now official social media accounts of teams are in on the act. The big money and social media trolling has made the discourse about wins and losses more venomous and less civil.
One of the best assistant coaches ever at Penn State, Jim “Ace” Williams, used to joke with us after he’d retired from coaching (and before overtime settled ties) “Remember guys, we’re all with you win or tie.”
In the big money era of college football, what Ace joked about is not a joke for many fans.
In just a matter of moments the euphoria of an overtime lead against Oregon evaporated. The fan base watched as a 15-day span turned south in a hurry. Who was to blame, or if the administration at the university made the right call, is not to be debated here.
The move was made, the season went on. The remaining coaches and players have been left to navigate an alternative reality while also contemplating what is next for them and for their futures.
Terry Smith has been thrown into the breach as the interim head coach, and he has done an incredible job of holding things together. His emotions these past few weeks as he’s talked about Penn State, the players, his family, this fanbase, our history and the community have all been genuine. Penn State needs people like that.
I do not profess to know what is next for Penn State. I have not weighed in publicly or even expressed an opinion privately when asked. Hiring the next coach is a difficult job, one that will play out amid the expressed opinions of multitudes of fans and pundits.
And despite what everybody thinks, there are many outstanding coaches that can represent Penn State with class and integrity on and off the field at Penn State. Many of these coaches are people whose names you may not even know. Oregon’s Dan Lanning was not a household name, and Bo Schembechler’s hiring at Michigan years ago was met with the headline “Bo Who?”
Even if Pat Kraft hired God almighty there would be fans who think God is too old. That’s the nature of the business.
For now, job number one for the fans is to focus on those who remain, the players and coaches competing in the here and now for Penn State.
For the seniors, their life’s chapter of college football is closing. A professional career on the field or in the workforce or perhaps in grad school is what comes next.
But for the coaches, the underclassmen and their families, the future is far from certain. Uncertainty awaits them as the season winds down.
As fans, appreciate that for the past several weeks and for another few weeks the cloud of uncertainty that has hung over all they’ve done on and off the field. The fact that they’re being paid to be part of this makes the emotions of this journey no easier. The ghost of unrealized potential haunts even the greatest competitors when they fall short.
But for just a few more weeks, the coaches and players deserve to be treated and supported as though all the things we hoped would happen are still there. Years from now, as they look back on this season, we have a chance through vocal support to leave in some small part a lasting positive memory of their time here.
