Penn State is a Benediction
As Penn State celebrates its 105th Homecoming with a nationally televised game of ranked unbeatens, we share some inspiring words from one of Old State’s most eloquent voices.
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Penn State held its first Homecoming celebration in the Fall of 1920. The centerpiece of the weekend was an October 9 game played before a record-breaking “standing room” crowd of 12,000 at New Beaver Field. The returning alumni, who inaugurated the new tradition that would continue on for more than a century and that we’ll again renew this weekend, watched one of State’s best early teams, which would finish the season 7-0-2, the front-end of two-year undefeated span. The Nittany Lions, led by star halfback Charlie Way and future College Football Hall of Fame quarterback Glenn Killinger, sent Dartmouth packing by a 14-7 final tally.
At the time, Penn State was still a relatively young institution, having struggled through the early decades following its founding and, at the turn of the century, escaped its probable demise against seemingly daunting odds (not for the last time!) thanks to the steady leadership of visionary president George Atherton. As the new century blossomed, Old State was only just starting to hit its stride. The dedication of a special weekend to welcome alumni coming back to campus symbolized the roots of the college taking hold here in the Nittany Valley. Through toil and struggle, Penn State’s founding leaders and early classes of students had built something that would endure, that was worth returning to celebrate, and that was set to inspire future generations to profess their love and loyalty.
Football became one of the banners around which those revelers would rally. The Nittany Lions are inextricably linked with the experience and expression of the Penn State Spirit, and so the annual Homecoming game is the centerpiece of a full week spent connecting a rich past and promising future. This Saturday, as the latest group of young men carry the flag of Old State to the national stage and play before a (much larger) capacity crowd, the University will also recognize one of its greatest teams, the undefeated 1994 Big Ten (*national, see below) champions, on their 30th (oof.) anniversary. Appropriately, this year’s opponent, Illinois, fell victim to that ’94 team’s legendary offense in what turned out to be the season’s memorable moment – a 96-yard game-winning fourth quarter drive, on the road, in harsh conditions, with the season on the line.
I have been thinking about all of this a lot recently, as I just finished up teaching a course in Penn State football history for the University’s branch of the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute, a very cool program to which I would encourage you to obtain and/or gift a membership. While we covered many of the great games, coaches, and players who have built Penn State into one of only seven FBS programs with over 900 all-time wins, I dedicated significant time to exploring the reasons why we care so much about all of this, why we allow to so dominate our thoughts and lives as Summer wanes and Autumn approaches. In the course of that effort, I shared the following passage from Ross Lehman ’42, who I described as the bard of Penn State. I’m not sure anyone has better captured the essence of the Nittany Valley’s special something, and so in the spirit of Homecoming and my humble efforts to educate and enrich the Lions-loving public, I now share it with you:
I was a naive, unsophisticated, partly uncultured lad when I came to Penn State. As I entered the Nittany Valley, the first sight to greet me was the beautiful tower of Old Main. When I entered the classroom, I encountered such unusual professors as Hum Fishburn, Nelson McGeary, Lou Bell, Bob Galbraith, and many others who exposed me to the awe of new worlds unfolding. They opened a door to challenging ideas, and another door beckoned, and another … endless, and I felt that knowledge was forever moving and lasting in my life. If I had felt lonely and isolated in these hills it was not for long. I became part of the heart throb of Penn State, and it was a new, exciting world. I fell in love with this unique place.
The campus was, and is, something rather special. It houses the “Penn State spirit,” which is a difficult thing to define because it is composed of so many things.
Perhaps it can be called a feeling, a feeling that runs through Penn Staters when they’re away from this place and someone mentions “Penn State.” The farther we are away, in time and distance, the stronger the feeling grows.
It is a good feeling, a wanting-to-share feeling. It is full of a vision of Mount Nittany, which displays a personality of its own in all its seasonal colors, from green to gold to brown to white. It is the sound of chimes from Old Main’s clock, so surrounded by leaves that it’s hard to see; it is getting to class not by looking at the clock but by listening to it.
It is the smell of the turf at New Beaver Field after a game, and the memories of Len Krouse, Leon Gajecki, Rosey Grier, Lenny Moore, Mike Reid, Franco Harris, Lydell Mitchell, Todd Blackledge and Curt Warner helping to swell our fame … and the top of Mount Nittany as seen from the grandstands in autumn.
It is the quiet of Pattee Library, facing two rows of silent elms; sunlight falling gently through those elms on a misty morning; a casual chat under a white moon on the mall.
It is talk, too: a great deal of talk, here, there, all around … in fraternity and sorority bull sessions or over a hasty coffee in The Corner Room or at Ye Olde College Diner, talk un-recalled except for the feeling of remembrance and the heart-tugging wanting some of youth.
It is the smell of a laboratory, the wondering about a tiny cell and its pattern—in its own tiny universe like that of a Milky Way galaxy—and the professor’s scintillating comment that prompts a lone wrestling with a sudden intriguing but frightening thought about our awesome cosmos.
It is a dance in Rec Hall; a beer in the Rathskeller; a kiss in a secluded campus niche; the romance that bloomed into marriage; the smell of a theater; the laugh of a crowd; the blossoming of spring shrubs and the blend of maple, oak, birch, and aspen colors in the fall; the ache of a night without sleep; and the sharing of a thousand other little things and incidents that honed our “Penn State spirit.”
It is the flash of many faces and of the single one that touched our lives forever.
It is here that Penn State molds a person’s life from the raw and unsophisticated into the conscious and cultured. We learned that a person must first be responsible to [themselves] before [they] can be responsible to [their] university, [their] society, [their] world.
It is on this beautiful campus that we learn, as my wife Katey wrote,” A [person’s] soul and [their] life are [their] own, and even if [they] give [themselves] away in hundreds of careful and loving pieces, [they’re] still [their] own [self] with [their] own life span, and no one [else] has a claim on it, …”
And here, in this lovely, intriguing spot called Penn State, each of us staked our own special, precious and eventful life.
Penn State is a benediction to all of us who have graced these beautiful halls and malls.
Few places, teams, and communities enjoy what we do at Penn State: A potent, enduring spirit that so captures the heart and mind, it provokes not only the sort of deeply held loyalty that has been bringing its sons and daughters back “home” for 105 Autumns, but that also inspires those who love it to compose such moving prose about the manner in which it stirs their souls.
So no matter where or how you’re watching the ninth-ranked Nittany Lions host a battle of undefeated teams under the lights in Beaver Stadium, whether you are there in the stands cheering them on – the direct successors of those 12,000 students, fans, and alumni standing and cheering at New Beaver Field in 1920 – or half a continent or more away watching on TV or following on your phone, know that you are a part of something unique and special. Be grateful that Penn State is a benediction.
And if you’re going to the game, wear white.
Three for the Road
- My biggest concern for Saturday night is the way in which the Illinois offense and their suddenly-competent quarterback Luke Altmyer appear equipped to emulate the game plan Bowling Green used to so frustrate and fool the Penn State defense three weeks ago. Couple that with “Bert’s” tendency to evoke a little football history himself with the power playcalls and formations he so loves and a defense that has matured more quickly than any preseason forecast predicted, and you’ve got the makings a stiff test for this group of Nittany Lions dreaming big dreams.
- I am going on record that Penn State needs to do the right thing and officially claim 1994 as a national championship. I am no fan of programs casting about for flimsy title claims to inflate their overall championship totals, but ’94 was no pre-WWI victory lap against the likes of Lehigh and Bucknell. That team spent much of the season ranked at number one, was subjectively and arbitrarily dropped down a spot and punished by vindictive Midwestern AP voters angry that the college football landscape was shifting under their feet. In a decade that saw three other split national titles, the 1994 Nittany Lions were denied that recognition despite fielding an offense we’re still talking about 30 years later. There’s no better time to do the right thing than right now. In fact, Saturday night with nearly 75 members of that team standing on the field where they thrilled fans, would be ideal.
- Really enjoyed making this week’s episode of The Obligatory PSU Pregame Show for you all. Brandon, Mailman, and even Kevin, and I would all deeply appreciate if you would watch, subscribe, Like, and comment. It’s a pleasure and honor to make something we hope helps our fellow Penn Staters enjoy the football season just a little bit more.
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