The State of Penn State Football

 Sponsor: Hey, it’s us! For The Blogy! Join our 2021 FTB Donors Club – the best way for you to show your support and keep this train rolling – and receive an exclusive FTB zipper bottle Koozie as a gift! Sign up HERE.

*Please remember to click the ‘Share My Address With For The Blogy’ box when checking out so we know where to mail your gift!

How to view a Penn State football program firmly ensconced among the nation’s top title contenders, yet also a leader among that frustrating tier of perpetual playoff bridesmaids; a team widely regarded as the surest threat to Ohio State’s Big Ten dominance, yet coming off a historically-horrendous five-game losing streak to open 2020?

Let’s consider our Dear Old State through fresh eyes, and see it both ways….

MAYBE IT’S ACTUALLY BAD

We can start with the obvious. The team started 0-5, something that had previously occurred exactly ZERO times in Happy Valley, despite two World Wars, a pre-Zoom pandemic, social upheaval, 9/11, lousy recruiting with awful teams, and then an emotionally-devastating scandal resulting in ludicrous sanctions meant to devastate the program’s ability to compete. Zero. So cry me a river about some new coaches and missed practice time.

You lost to Indiana. In football. I’ll dispense with debating my opinion that the Hoosiers were something of a mirage last year. It’s immaterial. That miserable loss (only the second ever to IU) – which could easily be pinned on terrible turnovers, lackluster defense, and unimaginative playcalling – ultimately came down to a lack of preparation, something we’ve been repeatedly sold as a purported strength of this administration. Devyn Ford does anything but fumble or score, and State gets their coveted 1-0. Unacceptable. I don’t want to hear about officiating.

Ohio State is Ohio State, so whatever. You get EMBARRASSED by Maryland in your building, resulting in only the third loss ever to the Terrapins (but second in the last seven years). You lose on the road at Nebraska, and then make history against perennial pain in the ass Iowa. Two of those teams were shitty, and the Hawkeyes were nothing special either.

Penn State earned all five of those losses, because Penn State stunk last year. Quarterback play was inconsistent to the point of bad. The offensive line underwhelmed (no surprise there), especially in pass blocking, contributing to said QB struggles. And the defense was, at times, among the very worst I have had the displeasure of watching rep the Blue and White. All of this happened, so it’s all relevant, excuses or explanations (or both) be damned, but it’s not the extent of our cause for concern.

Problems that plagued last year’s Nittany Lions were not wholly alien to fans of recent years nor were they totally unique to the pandemic era. After a few twists of fate that I won’t diminish by calling “lucky,” though certainly they were cases of good fortune, against Minnesota and Ohio State in 2016, the restoration narrative that accompanied James Franklin’s arrival in Happy Valley seemed on track to fulfillment. But then a funny thing happened on the way to the playoffs. Neither talent nor experience alleviated troublesome bad habits like problematic clock management, inability to hold a lead, or playing down to competition. The three seasons following the ‘16 Big Ten title saw talented teams fall just short of achievable playoff bids as program-defining wins slipped through their grasp.

The optimist continues to frame all of this as positive preamble to State’s inevitable ascension to the sport’s mountaintop. One can just as easily view it as little more than tantalizing window dressing, setting us up for the heartbreak of pissed-away fourth-quarter leads, near-misses on the recruiting trail, and the agony of “almost” in an unforgiving four-team playoff format where you’re either in or you’re nothing. We got here missing out on too many elite recruits and settling for their stunt doubles, faltering when leading in the fourth quarter, and doing less with more against inferior opponents. Meanwhile, the gap between Ohio State and everyone else, Penn State included, continues to widen.

So it may just be that we’re Helen Hunt, the Fiesta Bowl is Jack Nicholson, and this is as good as it gets. Staking out a precarious perch, we reached for the stars and whiffed, and last season was the ledge and not the pavement – there’s still plenty far to fall, and we’ve just been living in denial despite the many warning signs over multiple years. Then again…

IT’S PROBABLY FINE

I don’t care what anybody says. Digging deep and finding the resolve to get up off the mat following that 0-5 start and winning four straight — even as a bunch of loudmouth assholes like me (and practically everyone else not named Mike the Mailman) left them for roadkill – showed a lot of guts. Things ain’t always gonna go your way in life, and “if you can keep your head while those around you are losing theirs,” you are probably gonna be alright in the end.

And don’t give me any of this “but they beat bad teams” stuff either. They also LOST to bad teams! Several of them, in fact. Practically the entire Big Ten was horrible last year. Penn State faced maybe two-and-a-half squads with a pulse in nine games, so would you rather beat or be beaten by the frauds? In six or seven opportunities, the Nittany Lions did both. It’s not how you start; it’s how you finish. People remember best whatever you showed them last. The final act of Penn State’s 2020 was its finest, and when you think about it, that only makes sense.

After all, the pandemic uniquely impacted PSU in a very important way. It deprived players in four crucial position groups (quarterback, receiver, defensive line, offensive line), not to mention one entire side of the football (offense), of any opportunity for direct, hands-on learning with brand new coaches. As the season wore on, and first-year assistants like Taylor Stubblefield, John Scott Jr. and Phil Trautwein — a trio of staff additions James Franklin made in part to emphasize technical acumen — actually got to share the same space as the players they’re paid to coach, those players got noticeably better. If their ratio of direct coaching time to on-field performance holds up at all, we can expect big things after a comparatively routine Spring and Summer. As for the one guy, Kirk Ciarrocca, who was maybe a bit of a square peg? Fair or not, he’s gone, after one year. And that brings me to perhaps my primary source of optimism.

Other than perhaps trading places with Wisconsin for the starring role in the postseason’s viral moment as Mayonnaise Bowl champions, could you have scripted a more satisfying off-season? Dating back to the Paterno era, I have obsessively tried to read the tea leaves of press conferences and media availabilities in an effort to psychoanalyze the guy in charge, and if I have developed any knack for it at all over these decades, then rest assured last season’s failure, and all the accompanying criticism, flipped a switch for James Franklin. When the opportunity to get the elite offensive coordinator he wanted arose, he seized on it decisively. After the locker room went stale, he took advantage of the transfer portal’s revolving door to address needs and prune liabilities. With in-state and overall recruiting in a recent funk, Franklin flipped the script and assembled a top class headlined by plenty of Pennsylvanians. Now coaches and players alike look and talk like a group that’s here out of desire and not obligation. Penn State has one of the most talented rosters in the conference, maybe in the country, and a head coach with his (metaphorical) hair on fire to make it even better (Exhibit A: The Class of ‘22) while plugging every other leak that sunk the 2020 ship.

Ask Nebraska, Tennessee, Florida State, Texas, Michigan, and many others about how quickly and easily something that seems stable and reliable can go wildly off the rails. I get that we have perhaps the most First-World-Problems-frustrated fandom this side of Athens, Georgia, but here’s a truth we Penn State fans need drummed through our thick, beautiful skulls: There are roughly three to four dozen college football fan bases who would kill to be in our position right now (and half a hundred more who’d first have to discover how to care before the envy set in) and only six or seven who definitely wouldn’t agree to trade places. We have a great head coach who seems like as good a person as you’re going to find in his vile profession, who recruits like a maniac, who’s won way more than he’s lost everywhere he’s gone, whose players don’t get in trouble off the field and do graduate early, and who seems to genuinely live the values of The Grand Experiment that made us care so much in the first place.

Life is good when you’re a Penn Stater, folks. So get to the tailgate lots early on Ball State Saturday and have a Coke (or a Pepsi, if you’re an Athletics employee) and a smile, because when the sun rises over Mount Nittany, you’ll remember why this place is and always will be Happy Valley.

Chris Buchignani hosts The Obligatory PSU Pregame Show, entering its fifth season in televised syndication, with Brandon Noble, Mike the Mailman, and Kevin Horne.