By Chris Buchignani
Has any season – any Penn State team – ever felt more snakebitten than this one?
After weeks of upheaval that saw long-time head coach James Franklin relieved of his duties and interim head coach Terry Smith struggle to keep the runaway train on the rails through two brutal road contests, the Nittany Lions were rewarded with a third straight test against a top-five defense. The team fought valiantly, making good on Smith’s promise that his players would not quit on their season, but the ending echoed an all-too-familiar theme from this season, and this era of Penn State football, really: painfully close and not quite good enough when it mattered most. The Lions suffered their first-ever home loss to Indiana, currently riding higher than ever as the nation’s second-ranked team, on one of the most improbable toe-drag touchdown catches to ever survive replay review.
One could hardly blame the citizens of Nittany Nation for throwing in the towel at this point (or several before). This year was meant to be a crowning achievement, a celebration of the arduous journey back from the dark days of the Sandusky scandal to reclamation of the program’s lost elite status. Instead, we have all watched in horror as that progress went up in smoke with a historic collapse that claimed Franklin’s job and drained the enthusiasm from Happy Valley. Now, as other schools around the country join Penn State on the dizzying 2025 coaching carousel, fans of a program that built its brand on stability nervously await clarity on what comes next.
The reaction is understandable; people are frightened of the unknown, and it can be reasonably argued that Penn Staters have never before experienced a traditional head coaching search.
College football was a totally different animal in 1950 when the University settled on Rip Engle to lead the team. Rip’s assistant Joe Paterno subsequently received assurance that he would succeed Engle upon his retirement, and then the issue became moot for over four decades. The circumstances around Bill O’Brien’s 2012 hiring were as unconventional as they come, and even the search that landed on James Franklin two years later, which happened amid scandal fallout and sanctions, was led by a lame duck president and athletic director. Prior to last month, the University had also never in its history fired a head football coach for poor performance. Fair to say that while we have been through a lot together as Penn Staters, we have never done this dance before, and we have valid cause for concern. Because the stakes also couldn’t be higher.
Penn State recently placed a $700 million bet on future football success with its commitment to renovate Beaver Stadium, and it’s no secret that the economic health of the entire region hinges on seven lucrative home football weekends each year. James Franklin will be off to his next gig any day now, and critics of his firing – internal and national – will be waiting to pounce on the first hint that Pat Kraft acted rashly and will surely make a spectacle of it. If Kraft fails to make the right hire, he will torpedo his career and his reputation and potentially drag the rest of us down with him.
Despite this uncertainty and the justified unease accompanying it, Saturday’s loss to Indiana, however painful, also offered comfort for any worriers out there with the wisdom to discern it.
On a gorgeous late-Autumn day in Happy Valley, as the Friday evening showers gave way to Saturday morning’s clear skies, bathing the still-vibrant foliage of Mount Nittany in sunlight, tens of thousands of Penn Staters ignored the team’s record and defied the narratives, turning out in dogged support of their beloved Nittany Lions. Perhaps a little later in arriving, and maybe a tad fewer in number, they nevertheless filled Beaver Stadium nearly to capacity, even with the home team far away from the usual warmth of the national spotlight. Their faith was rewarded by a team many had already written off as feckless malcontents, destined to scatter to the wind and live on in infamy. Perhaps for the first time this season, these Nittany Lions played with a grit and ferocity befitting the uniform they wear and the inherited legacy that accompanying it. As they battled heroically into the game’s final stanza, the crowd came alive, filling the stadium with a cacophony that reminded the college football world why it routinely ranks among the game’s most inhospitable venues for visiting teams. As it must always be, the students led the charge with their vigor and enthusiasm, still proud and happy – as we all were and are – to be at Penn State and to be Penn Staters.
Terry Smith, a Letterman-turned-head coach who is both son and father of Penn State alumni, when asked why current and future players should hold firm in their commitments to the Nittany Lions, said it best: “Penn State is still Penn State.” What happened during the fourth quarter on Saturday reminds us of what that means and what bounty of unique riches awaits the next head football coach. That is a generational project whose strength and will are not easily diminished.
This town and this University have survived far worse than a single season of misery and bounced back stronger than ever. In fact, if the years of this new century in the Nittany Valley, whose first decade began with four losing seasons in its first five years and ended in a tragedy that defies comprehension, have taught us anything, it is this: Penn State and State College are perhaps best defined by their resiliency. How much suffering and how many setbacks can Penn Staters withstand and still keep coming back? The answer is, “More than you’ve got to dish out.”
When Mike Mauti and Michael Zordich famously stepped to the fore in the immediate wake of unprecedented NCAA sanctions designed to decimate Penn State football, they defiantly declared, “This program was not built by one man, and it sure as hell will not be torn down by one man.” They backed up these words by leading one of the most remarkable, fulfilling, and unforgettable seasons in college football history. The lesson of this past weekend echoes the wise words of those two legacies who refused to allow the spirit of Penn State to be dampened. This program was not built up in one year, and it sure as hell will not be torn down in one year. Everything that makes Penn State what it is has been here for a long time, it was present inside Beaver Stadium for this season’s few fleeting moments of joy, and it will remain long after those minutes, both the glorious and the torturous, have faded into memory. These enduring qualities, rare among even the greatest universities with the richest histories of football success, are what make Penn State a desirable destination for visionary leaders who seek to make their name as winner.
As long as that holds true (and it always will), the rest will take care of itself – for the next head coach of Penn State football and each one thereafter.
Chris Buchignani is cohost of The Obligatory PSU Podcast and The Obligatory PSU Pregame Show, entering its 10th season this Fall. He teaches a course on Penn State Football History for Penn State OLLI.
