At one point Saturday night, I remember thinking to myself that Penn State’s fans were playing better than Penn State.
Now 24 hours later, I have the ability to reflect on the fact that Penn State played a strong football game on Saturday evening, but in the pantheon of Penn State wins, Saturday night’s was not that special. It will be another one chalked up to Big Ten-ness – largely baked in ugliness.
In many ways, this was not one of those program altering nights like we’ve experienced other times under the lights in Beaver Stadium. By no means was Beaver Stadium the loudest I’ve ever heard it – and I wasn’t there in 2005 when Tamba Hali lit up Troy Smith – though I was there for Allen Robinson’s catch and Grant Haley’s score.
Yet, I can’t help myself from thinking Saturday night was one of the more impressive, consistent and full efforts I’ve seen from a Beaver Stadium crowd.
The White Out Energy worked, and Saturday night’s Beaver Stadium atmosphere served as a hearty reminder of why we have such a deep connection with college football.
Grumbling in my frustration with a sometimes sluggish first half offense and a defense that was annoying me with repeated penalties, I found myself standing in row 22 of section NB and looking around more impressed by what I was seeing from the crowd, rather than the main event.
For starters, Penn State fans were standing much more than a normal afternoon contest and a mere week ago, James Franklin had offered a challenge to Penn State fans – or at least alluded to one – by calling for White Out Energy. For quite literal legal reasons, he had to dance around the phrase “White Out” but minced no words as later players pleaded for fans to wear white.
It was an unprecedented challenge under Franklin’s tenure.
In fact, it had been quite sometime that Penn State fans have pulled off an organic White Out – if ever a full stadium one. If memory serves me correctly, the last time I experienced anything similar was when a ranked Northwestern team visited Happy Valley in 2012. That week, students involved in Nittanyville (myself included) were stealthily asked by those inside the football program to organize a student section white out.
Throughout that week, we plastered the message across campus by printing out flyers whipped up quickly on our own accord and our own printing allowance, while others left overnight messages in chalk on boards and sidewalks.
Come that Saturday, Penn State students happily obliged and Matt McGloin would go on to score one of his best touchdowns that you probably remember if only for the celebration.
Now 12 years later (and some thousands of dollars in student loan debt), I and the vast majority of the other 109,910 had also gotten the relatively more subtle White Out message.
While the White Out, black out, red out, or whatever color out have been often duplicated, I wholeheartedly believe it has never or will ever be replicated. Plus the awe inducing ability of a White Out regardless of how the message is delivered is special. It’s probably the reason why the trademark-registered White Out will never be decided mid-season. There are too many events, too many tickets and even too many recruiting visits riding on it.
But had you not followed Penn State football and the buzz around the White Out Energy over the last week and turned on NBC Saturday night, you would have assumed that this was the Penn State White Out ™. Some of that would also be due to the energy that Penn State fans brought as well.
Riled up with a pregame video interruption of Illinois head coach Bret Bielema quipping about “whatever the hell” White Out energy was, fans seemed locked in, tactfully using their voices when Penn State needed it.
When Penn State took the field on defense to begin the contest, “Mo Bamba” once again blasted through the speakers like it did when Michigan visited in 2019. That night will forever be remembered simply because of a timeout that had to be taken due to the literal tone setting it provided, and in 2024, it’s fascinating and fun to watch many of the 109k-plus sing along – even those who would not typically fall under Sheck Wes’ fan demographic.
But that’s just how big that moment has become. It’s transcended age gaps and music tastes to now become a tradition at Penn State, once again helping set the vocal pitch needed and becoming so much of Penn State’s brand that it’s forever etched in EA Sports’ recent video game representation of college football.
Even after the Illini marched down the field and scored on the opening drive, Penn State fans seemed patient and confident their team’s offense would score. It was the first of many workmen-like moments from the fans as they returned to their feet and provided noise consistently and with great timing. Throughout the evening, Penn State fans picked the right moments to shine like a star player picking the right moment to step up and make a big play.
During a crucial goal line stand in the south end zone right before half and in front of Penn State’s student section, the faithful created so much confusion that Illinois went from a 1st and goal at the two to a 4th and goal at the 27 with a botched snap and false start penalties along the way. It was a swing in the night that seemingly settled nerves as Penn State’s defense found the groove the way Penn State fans had already been in one.
Those two grooves never allowed Illinois to find one either.
Penalized nine times for 60 yards (many of which came on the offensive side of the ball and due to crowd noise), Bielema’s team struggled with the noise repeatedly. At one point like the frenzy the timeout in 2019 created, Penn State fans celebrated Bielema’s timeout as the play clock ran down almost like a touchdown, high-fiving unknown seat neighbors and pointing in jest toward the Illini bench, all in an attempt to haunt the coach for what he had said during the week.
Sure, a moment like that can happen at the NFL level, but largely thanks to college football’s obscenely large stadium sizes and mixed with the passion passed from generations to generations, I’d much rather witness (or partake in) the atmosphere on Saturday at a campus compared to the one on a Sunday in Pittsburgh, Philadelphia or wherever your professional allegiances lie.
The connection to something bigger is a massive draw for me – and probably you – when it relates to college football. After all, I’m a Penn Stater and just a Pittsburgh Steelers fan.
Seeing Beaver Stadium decked in white is a feeling that can’t quite be matched in another sporting event regardless of how far in advance it’s planned. Even on more mundane Saturday afternoons, you’re a part of something when you step inside a college football stadium, much more than any well-branded company arena or stadium.
Look around the tailgate lots – or fields – and you’ll witness families and friends reuniting, even for just once a year. Inside the stadium, you’ll find kids looking in wonder at fireworks shooting off the top decks of the stadium, while parents happily lift them up to get a better view before they beg for a cup of Creamery Ice Cream. You’ll find friendly relationships forming with seat neighbors that only extend to the seven or so Saturdays you get a year but carry on from season to season. You’ll find the students throwing their arms over one another’s shoulders, belting the words to the alma mater.
Most of all, you’ll find a collective group working as one and Saturday night’s fan performance served as a reminder of that.
Of course, there will be other moments this season when Beaver Stadium gets on its feet and gets loud. But on Saturday, those dressed in white inside Beaver Stadium truly were an advantageous ally to those playing in blue and white. It was a strong showing that all told rivaled the stat sheet the Nittany Lions on the field put together.
That’s what makes college football uniquely different – even if Saturday’s White Out was different.
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