By Chris Buchignani
Dear Coach Campbell,
Welcome to Happy Valley. You’ve got a lot of your plate, so I’ll summarize everything below with the hope that one day you’ll find a few moments to go back and read the rest: Learn to love this place, and it will love you back.
That’s the short version. For the good of the order, I’ll now offer a lengthier primer for what awaits as you assume leadership of Penn State football, a journey I hope may eventually lead you to understand, to your core, a passage like this:
“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.”
These are the words of Ross Lehman, Class of ’42, who served for 13 years as executive director of the Alumni Association (1970-83) and ranks among our most eloquent voices for articulating the special feelings experienced by those who have given most freely of themselves to leave Penn State better than they found it and so been rewarded in kind. If you are fortunate, we will one day count you among their number. Allow me to humbly offer some suggestions that may help set you on that path.
A new head coach at a program like Penn State enjoys the opportunity to leave his personal imprint on a great legacy, and such an audacious endeavor requires unwavering belief in yourself and your abilities. It also demands the humility to accept that no matter the scope of your impact or scale of your success, you are ultimately only one part of a larger whole. Every one of college football’s blue blood programs possesses its own unique identity, a special sauce combining a pinch of history, a dash of place, and a heaping helping of tradition and pride that distinguish each member of this exclusive club. You must not allow this to overshadow your own instincts and personal leadership style, but you dismiss it at your peril. We don’t put names on our jerseys, but the old saying nevertheless applies that “the name on the front will always be bigger than the one on the back.”
If you understand the inherent wisdom in that maxim, you are well on your way to becoming one of the great Penn Staters, which is more about achieving a certain state of being than meeting a set of specific requirements: “Having a Penn State degree doesn’t automatically make you a Penn Stater, and not having a Penn State degree doesn’t mean you can’t be a Penn Stater.”
That’s a quote from former assistant coach and current University trustee Jay Paterno. You will hear a lot – locally and nationally – about Jay, his family, and his dad. Listen to everyone, but keep your own council. I wish I could tell you that a job like this comes without its share of palace intrigue, but the unfortunate truth is that academia differs from a medieval court mainly in the manner and barbarism of the executions. Someone once told me that, “Academic politics are so vicious because the stakes are so low.” You’ve already put in a decade at a land-grant university, so I suspect you know this drill. But if you arrive in Happy Valley hoping to find the exception that proves the rule, allow me to save you from disappointment.
But know this about Joe Paterno. Many of your newfound neighbors, friends, and donors will have known the man and grew up with his presence in their lives, they still know and love his family, and yet a growing number have had none of those experiences; the leader who unlocks the full potential of Penn State will be the one who embraces and unites them all, without judgement and with a servant heart. This is your program now, it was built up in no small part thanks to Joe, but also with the contributions of others. Remember that they all own important pieces of it, and none of them owns the whole thing; it’s bigger than that.
A few final thoughts…
You have already demonstrated that you possess more self-restraint than I do, because had someone offered me free beef for life in return for staying in Ames, it would have been an offer I couldn’t refuse. And while we’re on the topic, you’ll soon be asked to create your own customized burger recipe at The Field. I’m guessing you’re the sort of guy who doesn’t need to be told this, but as a heads up, stay away from arugula and tapenade.
At some point, you should climb Mount Nittany, a rite of passage for every Penn Stater. You don’t have to do it this week. In fact, you don’t need to do it this year. The beauty of Mount Nittany, second only to the Nittany Lion (and arguably Mike the Mailman) as the symbol of our best, is that it has always been there, since before Penn State was founded and indeed before human beings first stepped foot this Valley. It represents the timeless quality of a place where we mortals have temporarily set up shop to pursue the University’s mission of developing better people and reminds us that we are all just passing through. The view of town and campus as seen from a vantage point atop the Mountain, a place where countless others have stood since State’s earliest days, can reinforce our own insignificance in the grand scheme even as it reminds us to seize the moment.
So be mindful, but be patient.
None of this can be forced upon you. You must choose to seek it. You cannot find it overnight. It develops over time. In this opportunity you have earned, in this ludicrous profession you have chosen, your days will always be busy, your schedule perpetually packed, and your focus ever on the list of present needs plus tomorrow’s roster of potential problems. There will be little time for reflection and even fewer chances to pause and take in the ways the place is taking hold of you. But bit by bit, it will start to seep in, and one day, you will wake up and discover that you are home.
To echo Jay’s sentiment from above, Penn Staters aren’t born; they’re made. Most of the folks who, through their time and talents, helped make Penn State and State College worth loving arrived here from somewhere else. I hope that you will come to love this place like they did. That you will, in your own way, come to see it as a “lovely, intriguing spot” in the same way that once inspired Ross Lehman’s penmanship. That a hike up the Mountain, breakfast at The Corner Room, a beer at The Phyrst, a family photo at the Lion Shrine, and a late-night stroll through a quiet campus may all become, in time, spiritual experiences that transcend the transactional and touch your soul. Whether that ever happens is ultimately up to you. “This place will change you if you let it.”
But it never will – and as a result, you will never extract the maximum benefit to yourself – if you do not allow it to happen. I’ll close with my final, and most vital, piece of advice: Open your mind, your heart, and your spirit to everything the Nittany Valley has to offer.
It will find you when it’s time, and when that time has come, you’ll know. See you around.
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.
Chris serves as vice president of the Mount Nittany Conservancy, where he helped launch the organization’s Nittany Valley Press publishing imprint and led efforts to endow HIST 148: History of the Pennsylvania State University, a three-credit undergraduate class in the College of the Liberal Arts. In the past, he has served as founding vice president and later president of the State College Area School District Education Foundation, secretary of the University Club, Inc., and vice president of the Penn State Student Media Association Alumni Interest Group.
