As the fleet of buses carrying Penn State players made its way to Beaver Stadium, at least one seat remained empty for the trek.
Amazingly, every tailgating Nittany Lion fan noticed the vacancy, honking their car horns in remembrance of Joe Paterno and his former pregame perch.
The day had arrived. Penn State was to play for its pride and a fresh start against a good Mid-American Conference team with high hopes.
The “We Are [Still] … Penn State” T-shirts had a human feel to them — a feeling of frustration, a feeling of injustice and a feeling that to achieve success with honor was to turn the page.
This feeling resonated through the valley as I met up with my cousin Mark and his wife near the outdoor track, beginning what would become a six-hour attempt to scalp a ticket to the game.
It became wildly obvious that Penn State fans were looking for a fresh start as I meandered from lot to lot wearing an Ohio University T-shirt. I was greeted warmly. State College residents encouraged me to sign petitions against PSU’s Board of Trustees right before wishing the Bobcats and I “good luck” in the day’s contest.
“You guys have a shot,” said a pair of twenty-something PSU alumni on a grassy knoll near the stadium’s south end. “But after everything that’s happened … just, good luck finding that ticket, man. Good luck.”
A plane flew by moments later, dragging the message “Oust Erickson/Trustees” behind it.
The first quarter began and the more strangers I met, the more I couldn’t help but sense these Nittany Lion fans hadn’t expected to lose after all. Their team had just taken a commanding 14-3 lead, and they couldn’t lose. They just couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair.
And besides, it wasn’t like they were playing Ohio State, right?
It just wouldn’t have been fair to lose — not after the injustice.
With minutes left in the first half, I was graciously sold a ticket for $40 by a totally personable pair of middle-aged PSU graduates.
But once the Marching 110 took the field, one couldn’t help but notice the day’s headline was never going to be about redemption. It was about a program from a different corner of Appalachia that had gone largely unnoticed for the better part of a century.
Remaining cooler than cool, Ohio quarterback Tyler Tettleton floated a 5-yard pass into the arms of Donte Foster with less than three minutes remaining in the game. It was an upset in every sense of the word.
The tone of the “We Are … Pissed Off” T-shirts began to shine through the hospitality that once highlighted the early morning hours.
As much as we tried to make it about Penn State, as much as everybody in the country tried to make it about Paternos, Sanduskys and Freeh reports — Solich and company had different plans for the afternoon.
The stadium quickly emptied, leaving a group of green-clad two- and three-star recruits paying homage to the Bobcat faithful who made the trip, dishing hugs aplenty to OU President Roderick McDavis.
A day later, season-ticket seekers and national media outlets would make phones in Athens, Ohio ring off their hooks. I’d like to think this signaled the turning of that page PSU fans had been trying to find for months prior to the game. But, feel free to ignore my biased opinion.
One thing remains undeniable: the athletes who were “too short” or “too small” for Division I ball are smirking from their Southeast Ohio bedrooms as the ESPN-coined “Year of the Bobcat” carries on.
Pat Holmes is a senior studying journalism and editor-in-chief of The Post. Think you could’ve found cheaper tickets to the game?
Email him at ph835608@ohiou.edu
