Something’s Been Off, But the Blueprint Is Still Ours

By Greg Woodman

Two weeks ago, Penn State was ranked number two in the nation. Today, we are unranked. Hearts are heavy. Momentum is gone. But this fall from the Top 25 is not just about missed tackles or red-zone inefficiency. It is about something deeper. Something cultural. Something emotional. And the answers will not be found in a playbook. They live in the soul of leadership itself.

Years ago, Joe Paterno walked from his home to campus every day, whether it was raining, snowing, or sunny. That walk was not just a habit. It was a symbol. A presence. A demonstration that leadership begins with consistency, humility, and love for the people you lead. Paterno was far from perfect, but he built a culture rooted in discipline, humility, and academic integrity. “Success with honor” was not a tagline. It was the operating system. Every Penn Stater — player, fan, faculty member — knew the playbook by heart.

So, what happened? Why is that same cultural playbook gathering dust today?

Something has felt off for the last ten years. Not just in the standings, but in our identity. We started to believe that in order to beat Ohio State, we had to become Ohio State. That to win big in the NIL era, we had to trade in our values for flash. That the Penn State way — built on accountability, unity, and grit — was outdated. And that winning today required compromise.

Maybe we did not say it out loud, but deep down, many of us bought into it. We said, “This is the new game. This is what it takes.” And little by little, we accepted that erosion.

But here is the truth. You do not have to trade identity for success. You can adapt without abandoning who you are. And we do not have to look far to see proof of that.

Look at Penn State Wrestling.

Cael Sanderson’s program is not just dominant. It is principled. It recruits not only elite athletes but young men of character. It teaches resilience, accountability, and service. And it wins more national titles than anyone in the country. It is a program where ego is replaced with trust, and where team-first culture is the foundation of every championship.

Or look at Penn State Hockey.

In less than a decade, the program has built a brand on intensity, discipline, and belief in the mission. The players buy into the identity. They understand they are not just representing themselves. They are representing all of us. And they do it with pride, not ego.

Or look at Women’s Volleyball, or the Olympic sports that year after year compete not only with excellence, but with honor. These programs do not just win. They lead. They cultivate cultures where servant leadership is the standard, not the exception. Wrestlers speak of outworking opponents, yes — but more often, they speak of out-caring them. Hockey players train not for the spotlight, but to protect each other in the corners. Volleyball players lift each other in practice, knowing that no championship moment happens without collective sacrifice. These teams are not just successful. They are culturally aligned. They embody the Penn State way.

Because the deeper story is always cultural. Wins and losses reveal not just preparation. They reveal leadership DNA — and whether a team is built on ego or love.

Peter Drucker once said, “Culture eats strategy for breakfast.” That is not just business jargon. It is truth. No amount of five-star recruits or analytics can replace a broken culture. And culture does not collapse overnight. It erodes quietly. A missed standard here. A compromise there. A shift in language from “we” to “me.”

This current team seems to be made up of great young men who represent Penn State well on and off the field. I can’t speak to how they are in the classroom, but from the outside, they carry themselves with professionalism. I’m not sure how I’d manage things if I had a $250,000 to 1 million+ salary at their age.

But culture is not just about effort. It is also about discipline. And when you see unsportsmanlike penalties after plays, or excessive celebrations while trailing by two touchdowns to an 0-4 team, something does not sit right. Fifteen years ago, that player would not see another down. He might sit a few games. Today, we are told, “Well, that is just the way things are now.”

Really?

That is the unsettling feeling. It is not about being angry. It is about being out of alignment with who we say we are. That quiet dissonance lives in the gut of every Penn Stater who still believes that honor matters as much as victory.

And maybe the team wins out and shocks us all with a national title. I hope so. I will be cheering. But I will also be watching Notre Dame and Clemson, both with two losses of their own, and how each institution treats culture and defines what it means to win. Because winning is never just about the scoreboard. It is about how you win. Who you become along the way. What you protect in the process. 

At Penn State, love has always been in the DNA.

And maybe that is why so many of us feel unsettled. Because somewhere, deep down, we sense that something has shifted. That something essential — something invisible but vital — feels just a little off. It is hard to name. Harder to measure. But it lives in our gut. 

And when you love something as deeply as Penn Staters love this place, you do not ignore that feeling.

You honor it. You sit with it. And you ask what it would take to get back to who we truly are.