For the Penn State offense, it’s starting to feel like 2020 again, boys and girls. And, believe it or not, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
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We were promised fireworks – the big, loud, colorful, explode-y sort; the kind your Instagram followers (or Facebook friends if you’re 55) insist on posting every July 4th for reasons that escape us – but through four weeks our hands are starting to burn from holding sparklers too long.
We were told this would be a thrill ride in a Ferrari – fast, exhilarating, the ultimate six-figure neutralizer of height and physical appearance – and instead we’re stuck in a Ford Fiesta Uber with a driver who won’t stop talking. Yeah, sure, we’re reaching our desired destination but the journey from Point A to Point B has been several galaxies shy of glamorous thus far.
All off-season, pundits gabbed we’d see the best of Mike Yurcich. You know, deep balls flung all across the yard. Rainbows. Points-a-plenty. Home run carries. Pixie dust. Puppy dogs. Exotic formations that feel like your first kiss. Tempo. Smashmouth spread. Taco Bell at 3:14 a.m., eight drinks deep. And yet, if anybody had the gumption to tug at the third-year PSU OC’s five-o’-clock shadow, it wouldn’t shock us if the guy pulling the offensive levers is really Kirk Ciarrocca in a Scooby Doo “bad guy” mask.
Statistically speaking, the 2023 Penn State offense makes zero sense. Blue and White bizzarro world.
