It won’t matter.
It won’t.
You’ll still show up. You’ll still spend the money. You’ll still be there. You’ll still lose your voice. You’ll still eat your chicken baskets. You’ll still wear white. You’ll still answer the call of “We Are” with “Penn State.” You’ll still get angry at an interception. You’ll still nearly pass out over a pick-six. You’ll still have hearing loss from just how loud it was in there. You’ll still squeeze your butt onto a metal bleacher next to a random stranger you’ll eventually get to know to watch a football game.
It’s what you’ve done. It’s what you’ve always done. It’s what nearly everyone who cares about this university has done from the time Penn State first suited up a football team and will do until the end of college football – or the world.
Nothing has changed that before. Nothing will change that again.
A name will not matter.
You’ll complain. You’ll agree. You’ll leave messages. You’ll write angry columns about those who disagree. You’ll get on soap boxes in comment sections and moments in meetings for comment.
But it won’t matter because it won’t change a thing.
You’ll still be there in the fall. You love this place too much.
Moreover, this place loves you back too much.
Penn State football is not about one person. Penn State football isn’t even about Penn State football. It’s the only thing I actually learned in my four years of college.
When they changed the name to the organization that sleeps outside of the football stadium in the offseason before my first season as a student, I thought it would matter.
And it didn’t.
I still joined that organization. I still found my home at Penn State through that organization. I still found my friends. I still found incredible friendships. I still found the love of my life. I still found my community.
Then, I watched my other friends at the newspaper that wrote about the football team find their sense of community too.
I watched hundreds and thousands of other students find their place just like all of the ones that came before me did and all the ones that will come after you and me and all of us will.
Of all of the things my student debt paid for, the greatest and grandest was not my degree. It was the sense of community that Penn State gave me. It’s more valuable than any amount of money – even $50 million over 15 years. That’s what I watched. That’s what I saw. That’s what I learned at Penn State.
And a major piece to that fabric is Penn State’s football program. Penn State’s football team. The team that was the – let’s be honest – singular reason why I went to Penn State.
It’s the reason that millions of others went to Penn State. It’s a reason that the school is so prominently known in the country and in the world. But it’s not the only thing that makes Penn State what Penn State is.
Fourteen years after things took a dark turn with that football program, we’ve once again lost sight of that.
Monday morning I watched various “leaders” of Penn State passionately defend how they felt about one person who is related to Penn State football’s program and how that person should have their name on the football field.
How that person is bigger than Penn State. How that person was bigger than Penn State.
How, in the last 14 years, it seems like we’ve learned nothing.
As I listened as they swore up and down they would pledge money – but only for reasons that benefited them and their feelings – it was clear that it won’t matter if they get what they wanted.
It won’t change how they feel. Instead it will only fuel them in a search for more and more and more, and with it, Penn State would progress less and less and less.
Frustrated as they tiringly missed the point once again, I reminded myself that it won’t matter. They’ll never stop. They’ll never get tired.
A name or not for them, it won’t matter.
People would later decry the name that was approved as a smart marketing play and ploy for the next 15 years on comment sections and message boards. I watched people debate the marketing tactics – and the return on investment that it will bring.
But it won’t matter. It’s not my money. It’s not money that’s going to change how I feel. It’s money that won’t change how you feel.
The players will still show up. They’ll still play a game. The same game that’s been played for over 130 years. It’s the same game that’s been played under coaching careers that spanned for 60 years and for two years and for all of the years in between. Those players will still wear the same colors. They’ll still wear the same helmets. The same numbers and everything in between.
Some years, their collective output will be great. Some years, it’ll be legendary. Some years, it will be terrible.
But it won’t matter.
You’ll still park your car in cow fields. You’ll still crack open beers before the sun even rises over Mt. Nittany. You’ll still throw the ball around like you’re the starting quarterback. You’ll still use port-a-potties. You’ll still use the woods “over there.” You’ll still get into the stadium early for the band. You’ll still rub the Lion’s ears. You’ll sing along with the “goddamn words.” You’ll still cheer when the drum major lands a flip. You’ll still swear at bad officiating and bad play calls.
You’ll still make memories. You’ll still make connections that last for days, years, decades and lifetimes.
A name that you’re fired up and angry about right now won’t matter because you’ll still be there in the fall. Or next fall or whenever you get back or even if you just watch on TV.
It won’t matter because I’ll still be there in late August. It won’t matter because you’ll still listen along in October. It won’t matter because we will still be there – even in December.
You love this school too much. We love this place too much.
Not one person, not just one team, but the whole thing that gave you that team, that person, your people, my people and most of all, a community.
That’s what will matter.
A name — or any name — just won’t.
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