I walked around my neighborhood on Saturday evening and there was someone blasting the 2013 breakup anthem “Say Something, I’m Giving Up On You.” The window was open. The speakers were going at full volume. You could hear it from two or three buildings away.
A few minutes earlier, Penn State finished its game against UCLA. Penn State entered the game ranked fourth in the country according to the SP+ system. UCLA entered the game without a win this year. In 240 minutes of gametime, they never once held a lead. They ranked 100th overall in the SP+ system. They’d scored a total of 57 points, good for—lemme just carry the one here—134th. There are 136 teams in Division I-A football.
The UCLA Bruins entered their game against Penn State having just ejected all the principals on the coaching staff: Head Coach DeShaun Foster was fired out of a cannon while their offensive and defensive coordinators both agreed to “mutually part ways,” which means they were fired but allowed to keep a shred of dignity.
Observers knew DeShaun Foster was a bad hire the instant he started his introductory remarks at Big Ten Media Day. He um’d and err’d and err’d and um’d, struggling to find anything to say. He eventually remembered what maps looked like and said, “I’m sure you guys don’t know too much about UCLA, our football program, but we’re in L.A. It’s us and USC. We, umm… [awkward laugh].”
After escorting Foster out of the building and bleaching his office, the winless Bruins anointed “Special Assistant to the Head Coach” Tim Skipper as interim head coach, presumably because his last name is what you call the captain of a sinking ship. Skipper replaced the defensive coordinator with a 69-year-old assistant on staff who’d called defenses for Fresno State, the Miami Dolphins, and the Merchant Marines. This made a lot of sense. But what about offense?
Those playcalling duties were handed over to Jerry Neuheisel, a 33-year-old who’d never called plays before, excepting the at least one Madden game he’d played given his age cohort. He was so inexperienced that he (and this is not a joke) did not know how to use his headset. There is footage of him forgetting to put the microphone next to his mouth. UCLA’s quarterback, Nico Iamaleava, explained in the postgame press conference that he had to call his own plays a couple of times because Jerry forgot to press the talk button.
It’s reasonable to assume that this is a buildup to talking about how badly UCLA got its ass kicked, but no. Penn State lost! The game ended 42-37 in favor of UCLA because this Penn State squad played like a football game had broken out in the middle of a sightseeing tour.
The Penn State offense could not string a drive together in the first half. The Penn State defense, meanwhile, played exclusively soft drop zone coverage early on, allowing Iamaleava to find receivers underneath. By the time Penn State’s defense adjusted and started calling more aggressive man-on-man coverage, they didn’t account for Iamaleava’s legs, and he used them to the tune of 126 rushing yards.
Penn State’s offense eventually woke up and made it a game by scoring 30 points in the second half, but they could not score when they needed it most in the waning minutes of the fourth quarter. UCLA got the ball back and bled out the clock, but failed failed to convert a crucial fourth down that would’ve ended the game.
Penn State couldn’t make anything out of the ensuing possession, but UCLA still couldn’t put the game away and were forced to punt. Not to be outdone in the disappointment department, Penn State made the baffling decision to not rush the punter even though they blocked a punt earlier in the game. They allowed him to sit in the backfield for a solid 10 seconds or so and effectively end any hope of a comeback. It’s reflective of Penn State’s game as a whole: embarrassingly mismanaged.
Last week, I said that Penn State fans needed to embrace the B+. They needed to be okay with being good but never great. I did not say they needed to tolerate slipping on a banana peel and falling down fifty flights of stairs while a fat guy played the tuba.
What I’m trying to say is my neighbor either got dumped or is a Penn State fan. Giving up on Penn State football at this point is the wise thing to do. I can understand how it might be an emotional decision, but sometimes relationships have an expiration date. Sometimes they come with big signposts that tell you it’s time to get off, or at the very least take a break. If losing to a discumbobulated UCLA team whose offensive playcaller doesn’t know how his radio works isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.
Upon reflection, though, I suppose my neighbor was just dumped and it has nothing to do with Penn State football. I came to this conclusion have realized if my neighbor were a Pennsylvanian mourning a football team, they’d be listening to a breakup song by one of the state’s many one-hit wonder post-grunge bands. Probably Fuel, maybe Breaking Benjamin, but definitely not Live.