Speeding home Sunday on Route 322 on the first day of fall, the FM radio was tuned to a local station carrying the Steelers game.
As they went to commercial break a voice said, “You’re listening to the Pittsburgh Steelers AUDIO network.”
“Audio?” I thought to myself. “They used to say “Radio” network.”
Given that people listen on radio, on apps, on satellite radio and online, it makes sense to say audio. A sign of the changing times.
Changing times. They spark nostalgia that perhaps hits hardest in the fall during homecoming week. And this week Illinois comes to town. While Illinois is not a traditional rival for Penn State, there are some big moments in this series. Penn State-Illinois games include Joe Paterno’s 409th win, a memorable 2008 White Out and the longest NCAA OT game in history.
But the all-time Penn State-Illinois game happened 30 years ago in Memorial Stadium. The 1994 Penn State team was driven by arguably the best offense in college football history.
The NFL careers testify to the talent level. Among the top 14 players on that unit, 12 were drafted, and a 13th played several years as an NFL free agent. Five of them were first-rounders; two were second round picks.
Those 14 players combined to play 112 years in the NFL. That is an average of right years per player. Do you know how hard it is to last eight years in the NFL? And that was the average talent level of the guys on that unit.
There were multiple Pro-Bowlers, Super Bowl starters and champions. Six of them played over a decade in the NFL.
But back to their college careers.
There were five First-Team All-Americans on that unit. They led the nation in yardage and scoring, and because of so many routs, they sat out a full 12 of the 48 quarters Penn State played. That is equivalent to sitting out three full games.
Notable halftime scores included 35-0 leads against Ohio State and USC and 45-7 against Iowa. The average margin of victory was 25 points. It was the first Big Ten team to go 12-0 and the first undefeated Big Ten team in 26 years. And it was the first Big Ten team to score 31 points or more in every game.
It was a glorious team in a magical season. But seasons like that race by all too quickly. That team could have played 100 games, and no one would ever have outscored them, nor would anyone have grown tired of watching them play.
But the real substance of a team is tested not on days when everything is clicking, like the 63-14 win over Ohio State. It is tested when you meet a worthy adversary. The 1994 team found that at Michigan when a 16-3 halftime lead became a 17-16 deficit after Michigan RB Tyrone Wheatley found his groove.
But a late drive and a third-down strike on “62 Z Post” from Kerry Collins to Bobby Engram gave Penn State a late lead and the defense held.
The substance of a team is tested on the road when things aren’t going your way, but you find a way to win. At Illinois, Penn State’s offense faced an Illini defense led by an incredible group of linebackers. Kevin Hardy and Simeon Rice would be picked with the second and third overall picks in the first round of the NFL draft. The other linebacker, Dana Howard, won the Butkus Award.
Early in the game, Illinois was running the ball and Penn State was inexplicably turning it over. The Illini built a 21-0 lead as darkness descended on Memorial Stadium. Slowly but surely, Penn State started to climb back. Late in the fourth quarter Penn State pulled within three points, trailing 31-28, and the defense came up with a key stop.
Normally sure-handed punt returner Mike Archie let a punt go over his head and it rolled down inside Penn State’s five-yard line. There was no overtime back then, and Joe Paterno was never one to play for a tie, so the only acceptable destination was the end zone.
The nation’s No. 1 defense was across from them, the wind was in their face and a light rain fell from the ominous darkness of the November night sky as their destiny loomed 96 yards away on the far horizon.
For fans of a certain age, that drive endures; a drive when Kerry Collins completed every pass he threw, when Ki-Jana Carter fought for an important first down and guys like Kyle Brady and Bobby Engram withstood big hits to make catches and drag defenders with them.
The drive culminated in a game-winning touchdown where lead blockers included tailback Ki-Jana Carter and fullback Jon Witman paving the way for another fullback and Hodgkins cancer survivor Brian Milne to crash in for the 35-31 lead.
These moments not only bind a team to one another, they also cement a bond with a fan base, creating legends that never die. That connection formed at a time when access to a team and media exposure was much different.
In 1994 I was coaching an excellent JMU football team. When I wasn’t coaching, I was a fan, like every other Penn State alum.
Back then, most games were not on national TV, with broadcasts fragmented by regional footprints. There was no streaming, there was no satellite radio, there were no apps.
Each week Keith Jackson, Bob Griese and Lynn Swann had the national ABC game at noon followed by 3:30 regional broadcasts. That 3:30 regional window was where the PSU-Illinois game landed.
After our JMU team routed UConn, I got off the field and left the office where my brother Scott informed me that Penn State was trailing 21-0 in the first half.
When I got home, I was stunned to see that the local ABC affiliate had been assigned the Alabama-Mississippi State game rather than Penn State-Illinois. Alabama was a lot farther away from Harrisonburg, Virginia than Penn State was, but ABC viewed Virginia as the South and therefore a designated SEC area. SEC bias? Imagine that.
As luck would have it, night had fallen, and we could pick up the Penn State radio broadcast from KDKA in Pittsburgh. Fran Fisher wove the story as the comeback began. The reception was steady, with occasional drops.
Scott and my father-in-law got so frustrated they left to drive around back roads among the mountains towering over the Shenandoah Valley. Every time they got a clear signal, they pulled off the road to listen.
Back at the house, about the time the punt sailed over Mike Archie’s head, we lost the KDKA feed.
It was then that my home phone (cell phones were not ubiquitous back then) rang. My long-time friend Doug Loviscky was calling, probably looking for reassurance that his friend in college coaching would tell him that a 96-yard drive would be a piece of cake.
“I haven’t seen a single play,” I told him, explaining that we did not get the game on TV in Virginia. “In fact, we were listening on KDKA, but we just lost that.”
“So, you are totally out of touch with the game now?” he asked.
“Yep.” I said.
“Hey, stay on the phone and I’ll broadcast it to you.”
Doug’s wife, Kelly, was in the other room in front of the TV. I could hear her tell him what happened, and Doug relayed it to me. As the drive mounted, I was surrounded by a couple dozen people who were at the post-game party in our house.
Play by play and second by second, memories of a game hundreds of miles away were being made in our own unique way by a couple of Penn Staters who loved their school, and all that the team stood for.
As Brian Milne crashed over the goalline I relayed Doug’s call to everyone, and a loud cheer went up in the house.
By the time Illinois got the ball back, our ABC station had switched over to the Penn State game. I was going to hang up, but Doug, being superstitious, insisted that I stay on the line. So, we stayed on the phone until Kim Herring intercepted a last-play heave from the Penn State 31-yard line.
Those are the moments that bind fans to one another and bind fans to a team. It was a different time, a time when the game and the action drove our love of the sport as fans and players.
But times change and amid what some see as progress there are things we’ve lost. We’ve lost that organic connection in an era where off-field demands and drama are plotted to drive a constant pursuit of likes, clicks and attention sought to monetize the player-fan relationship.
As the 1994 team gets together this weekend, the men have grayed and aged, marking the years that have passed. For those who witnessed it, for those who relished the memories they made, the images of what they did may be slightly faded and worn around the edges, but they mark a moment when we could and did believe that all was possible. A time when we followed a team competing for each other, for the fans and “For The Glory of Old State.”
