Letter to the Editor: Penn State’s Failed Experiment (The Curse of Joe Paterno)

[o_PSUALREADYKNOW]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

 

[NittPicker]

Does someone need a hug???

 

[Nittering Nabob]

 

[PSU4U]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

Seriously?

 

[BiochemPSU]

The head coach job for PSU football is not given for life. Some PSU folks just refuse to understand this. Joe Paterno, for all his good traits, had one fatal flaw and the school indulged it by not having him gracefully step down. Had he stepped down in the late 90s, PSU would’ve moved through several coaches and this old guard chant of coach for life would have slowly died out. James Franklin built a program over a decade that couldn’t beat the teams that mattered. We saw the best and worst of him. It was time a for a change, something some PSU folks still can’t understand.

 

[ApexLion]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

This is really bad…on multiple levels.

 

[LMTLION]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

That is all laughable nonsense likely generated by AI. Or you were drunk when posting this.

 

[razpsu]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

Spoken like a true

Freshman.

I really don’t understand this post in anyway. Franklin was fired cause he was needed at a lower tier school like va tech. So we helped him with that. Think we did him a favor.

 

[RolexKong]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

LMAO. You really have no idea why Franklin was fired.

 

[SoCalLion]

Joe Paterno was an absolute embarassment to Penn State in his later years (starting around the time he bragged about kicking Spanier and Curley off of his door step). His ego was massive, he coddled his kids to the detriment of his football team, and he developed a habit of doing morally incorrect things.

I wish we'd never really speak of him. The older folk hang on to their memories, though.

 

[leinbacker]

"Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one

and close losses to UCLA and Northwestern...

 

[Alphalion75]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

You need to chill out.

 

[Chumboshifko1]

Joe Paterno was an absolute embarassment to Penn State in his later years (starting around the time he bragged about kicking Spanier and Curley off of his door step). His ego was massive, he coddled his kids to the detriment of his football team, and he developed a habit of doing morally incorrect things.

I wish we'd never really speak of him. The older folk hang on to their memories, though.

Dumb? Or facetious/sarcastic?

 

[EricStratton-RushChairman]

Joe Paterno was an absolute embarassment to Penn State in his later years (starting around the time he bragged about kicking Spanier and Curley off of his door step). His ego was massive, he coddled his kids to the detriment of his football team, and he developed a habit of doing morally incorrect things.

I wish we'd never really speak of him. The older folk hang on to their memories, though.

You really should go back and look at 2005, 2008 and 2009 sessions again. We were one point loss at Iowa away from undefeated season and playing for MNC in 2008... And we all remember one loss at Michigan in 2005. Take your embarrassment and shop it elsewhere. Otherwise keep JVPs name out of your mouth.

 

[Marshall2323]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

But it's not nice to disappoint fanboys
The entitled and delusional part of the fanbase (as well as those who were fueled by gameday alcohol) are the very same ones who are Joe But fans. As in I loved Joe.....but....
Joe was so much more than a football coach. He was truly an educator. Would he be an "influencer" in today's jargon?
Penn State sacrificed Joe on the altar of expediency. In refusing to repair his image and recognize his greatness, PSU revealed it's true character. We Are!

 

[Bison13]

Joe Paterno was an absolute embarassment to Penn State in his later years (starting around the time he bragged about kicking Spanier and Curley off of his door step). His ego was massive, he coddled his kids to the detriment of his football team, and he developed a habit of doing morally incorrect things.

I wish we'd never really speak of him. The older folk hang on to their memories, though.

Worse take than the original comment

 

[Chumboshifko1]

Letter to what editor? The Daily Worker?

 

[LMTLION]

Letter to what editor? The Daily Worker?

Psych hospital newsletter

 

[BUFFALO LION]

Joe Paterno was an absolute embarassment to Penn State in his later years (starting around the time he bragged about kicking Spanier and Curley off of his door step). His ego was massive, he coddled his kids to the detriment of his football team, and he developed a habit of doing morally incorrect things.

I wish we'd never really speak of him. The older folk hang on to their memories, though.

That’s because us “older folk” actually lived through those “memories “ in real life when they actually happened. Young social media warriors like yourself are more self centered and materialistic. This new “play for pay” era we are in now is right up your alley.

The subliminal satisfaction we got from winning and doing it with true student athletes, who were guided by a genius who knew how to mesh academic success with athletic success across an entire University population, may never be matched in our lifetimes. The life lessons I personally learned from Joe surpass any I’ve learned from any contemporary human being outside of my parents.

“Absolute embarrassment to Penn State in his later years”??????? What Planet were you living on?? Watch the old game tapes. Joe got more respect from the National media than any coach in the Country. And Penn State as a whole, mainly because of the way he ran his Program, was probably the most respected and envied University in the United States of America.

Winning then, the way we did, made us special. And made the University as a whole special. Our players were with us for four or five years and usually received their degrees. We got to know them, go to class with them when we were still in school, and they became like a part of our family.

Winning now, by shaking down the fan base to funnel donations away from academics into athletics, and paying 18 to 21 year old kids to prostitute themselves from school to school while real students are strapped with student debt into their 30s or 40s, is the real “embarrassment.

 

[PSU Mike]

Aside from the generally useless and aimlessness of the OP, if you value stability I think CMC is as close to a sure thing as anybody we could have gotten.

 

[Nitt1300]

Hero worship always results in disappointment. Joe deserved respect, not worship.

 

[Bob78]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

I'm of the opinion that your OpEd in defense of Franklin would have been better presented had you started with the paragraph "When James Franklin took over...", and omitted the preamble about Paterno.

The NIL/Xfer Portal era is in many ways a clean break from all that came before it. Paterno, Bowden, Bryant, et. al. just aren't the prototypes for what it takes to win National Championships now OFF the field. Even Saban, arguably the best-ever coach on-field, said 'nope' to this new era. That's unfortunate, but that's the way it is until that mess is truly cleaned up beyond wishful rhetoric.

Franklin did a lot of really good things here, had a lot of really good seasons, including getting us thisclose to the National Championship game. But, 12 seasons of not being able to beat the uppermost echelon teams in his own conference was his undoing, not losing sight of the old altruistic season and program goals. PSU has stated with certainty that we want and will compete for National Titles in football (among other sports), and in the middle of season 12 under James, it was clear to all that he was no longer the guy to lead us there.

As you say, it is TBD under Campbell, but in October of last season the need for a fresh start was smacking friends and foes in the face. Campbell was a really good choice given the available candidates. The timing was right for him and for us, now he carries the challenge of getting us over the hump that Franklin showed repeatedly he could not. He needed to go after that 3-game losing streak, as he was no longer the right coach for the job.

 

[Lion84]

Joe was a great coach who stayed too long. Franklin was a good coach who would have also stayed too long if they let him. No one should ever have a job for life guaranteed. And yes as the people who pay the bills us “fanboys” do deserve better. Coaches come and go fan remain and if you can’t grasp that you are slower than molasses in wintertime.

 

[Chumboshifko1]

You can tell the OP is a clown by who likes his nonsense.... other clowns.

 

[LMTLION]

Hero worship always results in disappointment. Joe deserved respect, not worship.

Yeah, the op (or ChatGPT) used a curious word - adore. I adore my wife and kids, but I certainly do not adore a football coach. I liked and respected Paterno (and Franklin and Campbell), but once you get past that level you’re compromised. It’s just weird.

 

[BCS PSU]

Joe was a great coach who stayed too long. Franklin was a good coach who would have also stayed too long if they let him. No one should ever have a job for life guaranteed. And yes as the people who pay the bills us “fanboys” do deserve better. Coaches come and go fan remain and if you can’t grasp that you are slower than molasses in wintertime.

I’ve posted before that Dabo Swinney has been head coach of Clemson since 2008 and has won two NCs and played for two others, and also has won a lot of ACC Championships. He also appears to run a very honorable program. Despite all of this, many Clemson fans believe that it’s time for a change.

 

[retsio]

Joe was more than a football coach - he was a 'teacher' of all things about 'life'. Education. respect, manners, being professional in your daily activities and representing a positive outlook on life. 'Always a Positive, a Negative gets you nowhere' (from my book) has sustained me for many, many years.

Franklin never 'played' in any championship game on any level. He coached, but never experienced what a player must go through mentally and physically. Then his ego carried him too far to think he could go over and above his boss - Kraft, and berate the Pres for more money. In doing so, we are much better now without him.

Those who know something about Campbell and his coaches, that is any inside scoop, indicate we have returned to 'student athletes' representing Penn State. 'We Are' is still something to believe in.

 

[bdgan]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

• Franklin was 108-48 in 12 seasons (average 9-4)
• He had six 10 win season in 12 years, not every year
• 10 win seasons wasn't the problem. The problem was performance against top 10 teams.

OSU led the all time series vs PSU 15-13 when Franklin arrived but he was 1-11 vs the Buckeyes and now OSU leads 26-14. I understand that OSU has improved and has more money than PSU but a few of those games PSU had the better team and big 4th qtr leads. Franklin teams seldom came through in the clutch vs top opponents.

The article is correct about money taking over college sports and the Grand Experiment is no longer possible.

I think the article is also correct about the method and timing of Franklin's firing. They really needed a replacement plan ready so they wouldn't lose all of their recruits. Now it's a complete rebuild. That said Franklin looked like he had checked out. I don't know if it was because he didn't get a contract revision after making the playoffs but I'll never forget how lost he looked on the sidelines vs UCLA. Even the announcers were stunned.

My biggest concern right now is that Campbell doesn't have recruiting connections in the northeast. I realize that things are more national these days because players chase the money but I still think you have to build a foundation with high school recruits before filling the holes with portal transfers. PSU has virtually no recruiting class from 2026 and the 2027 class so far is middle of the pack wrt player ratings. I think this year's team can go 9-3 but the following two years could be 7 or 8 win seasons if things don't improve quickly. I don't understand people who think we don't need high school recruits and that we can buy 3* kids from the portal and coach them up to compete with OSU, Oregon, Michigan, & USC.

 

[GSPVik]

Yeah, the op (or ChatGPT) used a curious word - adore. I adore my wife and kids, but I certainly do not adore a football coach. I liked and respected Paterno (and Franklin and Campbell), but once you get past that level you’re compromised. It’s just weird.

79% of that post is AI generated.

 

[Bvillebaron]

Joe Paterno was an absolute embarassment to Penn State in his later years (starting around the time he bragged about kicking Spanier and Curley off of his door step). His ego was massive, he coddled his kids to the detriment of his football team, and he developed a habit of doing morally incorrect things.

I wish we'd never really speak of him. The older folk hang on to their memories, though.

Stick your morally incorrect things comment you know where.

 

[Bvillebaron]

I'm of the opinion that your OpEd in defense of Franklin would have been better presented had you started with the paragraph "When James Franklin took over...", and omitted the preamble about Paterno.

The NIL/Xfer Portal era is in many ways a clean break from all that came before it. Paterno, Bowden, Bryant, et. al. just aren't the prototypes for what it takes to win National Championships now OFF the field. Even Saban, arguably the best-ever coach on-field, said 'nope' to this new era. That's unfortunate, but that's the way it is until that mess is truly cleaned up beyond wishful rhetoric.

Franklin did a lot of really good things here, had a lot of really good seasons, including getting us thisclose to the National Championship game. But, 12 seasons of not being able to beat the uppermost echelon teams in his own conference was his undoing, not losing sight of the old altruistic season and program goals. PSU has stated with certainty that we want and will compete for National Titles in football (among other sports), and in the middle of season 12 under James, it was clear to all that he was no longer the guy to lead us there.

As you say, it is TBD under Campbell, but in October of last season the need for a fresh start was smacking friends and foes in the face. Campbell was a really good choice given the available candidates. The timing was right for him and for us, now he carries the challenge of getting us over the hump that Franklin showed repeatedly he could not. He needed to go after that 3-game losing streak, as he was no longer the right coach for the job.

PSU has stated with certainty that we want and will compete for National
Titles in football by hiring a coach who never won a single championship or qualified for a single playoff game while coaching in an inferior conference for a decade? I like Campbell and hope he does all that but time will tell how this all works out. Last I checked OSU, Michigan, Oregon and now even Indiana aren’t leaving the Big Ten any time soon and someone needs to tell Kraft Cael Sanderson isn’t coaching the football team.

 

[Bwifan]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

I didn't realize big game James was coaching against Indiana

 

[johnmpsu]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

I have 2 words for James Franklin:
Good riddance!!

 

[Bob78]

PSU has stated with certainty that we want and will compete for National
Titles in football by hiring a coach who never won a single championship or qualified for a single playoff game while coaching in an inferior conference for a decade? I like Campbell and hope he does all that but time will tell how this all works out. Last I checked OSU, Michigan, Oregon and now even Indiana aren’t leaving the Big Ten any time soon and someone needs to tell Kraft Cael Sanderson isn’t coaching the football team.

hiring a coach who never won a single championship or qualified for a single playoff game while coaching in an inferior conference for a decade?

Well, Cignetti shattered that mold. In this new era, the old resumes may not be the best resumes anymore. All TBD.

Who among the realistically available candidates was a better choice than Campbell? He was right up there given the available pool.

You are correct in that no one knows how it will work out under Campbell, and it may not. But doing something was better than cruising along with the same old same old with fingers crossed under Franklin after that 3-3 fiasco and all the rhetoric that preceded it. Campbell was in the right spot at the right time.

I doubt we wait another 12 years to see how things might eventually work out. There will always be some younger, hotter coaching candidates waiting for their shot when someone stumbles at a big-time program. Impatience is a feature, not a bug, of today's prollegiate athletics.

 

[Thorndike2021]

As a retired Administrator I can assure you that you cannot always have a backup plan in place before you must act to dismiss an employee. There were many times that I had to let someone go while knowing that I would have to do all of my job and all of that person's job until a suitable replacement was in place. Long days and sleepless nights.

Quick message for anyone who thinks this stuff is easy: wake up. None of it is easy.

 

[psu7113]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

“[M]oved from wanting excellence to demanding pefiction.” It wasn’t just a portion of the PSU fanbase that has done that. Our entire, social media driven, society has done that. Therefore, what you are saying happened at PSU (and I agree with you in many respects) is merely a reflection of what is happening in society at large, to all of our detriment.

 

[RolexKong]

PSU has stated with certainty that we want and will compete for National
Titles in football by hiring a coach who never won a single championship or qualified for a single playoff game while coaching in an inferior conference for a decade? I like Campbell and hope he does all that but time will tell how this all works out. Last I checked OSU, Michigan, Oregon and now even Indiana aren’t leaving the Big Ten any time soon and someone needs to tell Kraft Cael Sanderson isn’t coaching the football team.

While competing for and winning national championships is an objective of PSU's football program, Big Game James could have remained the coach indefinitely returning the same results he achieved.

 

[Anon488936]

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

I grew up adoring Joe Paterno. What he built at Penn State was extraordinary—not just in wins, but in identity. But that level of sustained greatness also created something less helpful: a standard that no longer reflects the realities of modern college football.

Paterno’s “Grand Experiment” succeeded for decades. But when the scandal broke, fairly or unfairly, Penn State became a target. The same program once criticized for doing things “the right way” was suddenly defined by its worst association. Many outside the program still take satisfaction in Penn State’s struggles—and too often, we’ve internalized that narrative ourselves.

What’s been lost in that shift is perspective.

The conditions that allowed Penn State to dominate under Paterno no longer exist. College football in 2026 is more national, more financial, and more competitive than ever. The advantages that once sustained long-term dominance have been flattened. Expecting Penn State to replicate that era—without adopting a win-at-all-costs model like the Alabama Crimson Tide football or Ohio State Buckeyes football—isn’t ambition. It’s miscalibration.

So the real question is this: when did 10-win seasons and top-10 finishes become unacceptable?

When James Franklin took over, Penn State was in one of the most compromised positions in modern college football—sanctions, scholarship limits, and a damaged reputation. His job wasn’t to maintain excellence. It was to restore relevance.

He did that.

Franklin rebuilt Penn State into a consistent national presence. His teams competed at a high level, recruited at a high level, and represented the program with stability and structure. He established a culture centered on accountability, player development, and long-term competitiveness. That kind of infrastructure is difficult to build—and easy to disrupt.

And yet, that’s exactly what happened.

This past season wasn’t defined by collapse—it was defined by margin. Close losses to teams like Oregon and Indiana weren’t evidence of systemic failure; they were examples of how thin the line is between a great season and an elite one. College football outcomes often turn on a handful of plays. In previous years, Penn State benefited from those moments. This year, it didn’t.

That’s variance—not dysfunction.

But instead of recognizing that, the knee-jerk response was to reset.

Firing Franklin midstream—while maintaining a strong recruiting class, developing young talent, and lacking a clearly superior alternative—wasn’t strategic. It was reactive. Programs that operate from impatience rarely outperform programs that operate from continuity.

There’s also a deeper issue at play: expectation drift.

A portion of the fan base has moved from wanting excellence to demanding perfection. Competing annually is no longer enough; anything short of dominance is treated as failure. But Penn State has never been, and has never claimed to be, a program that sacrifices its identity for championships. That distinction matters.

The assumption that replacing Franklin with Matt Campbell automatically raises the program’s ceiling is, at best, unproven. Coaching changes don’t occur in a vacuum—they reset systems, relationships, and recruiting pipelines. At a time when the Big Ten is becoming more competitive, not less, introducing instability carries real cost.

Just look at the landscape: Michigan Wolverines football is established, Oregon Ducks football is rising, and even programs like Indiana Hoosiers football are now “above” us. This is not the environment to voluntarily step backward in continuity and experience.

Successful programs understand this. They invest in stability. Mario Cristobal, for example, faced heavy criticism at Miami before a breakthrough season reframed his trajectory. That’s how development works—it’s not linear, but it requires patience.

Penn State chose otherwise.

With an expanded playoff, the program was entering a phase where sustained competitiveness had a clearer path to national relevance than ever before. The foundation was in place. The margin just hadn’t broken the right way yet.

Instead of building on that, we broke it.

This decision wasn’t just about one coach—it reflected a broader misunderstanding of where Penn State stands in today’s college football hierarchy. Sustained success at a high level is not failure. It’s the prerequisite to breakthrough.

Penn State had that.

Now it has uncertainty.

And uncertainty, not continuity, is what pushes programs further away from championships—not closer.

LMAO. You really have no idea why Franklin was fired.

Apparently, the UCLA and NW games were not broadcast is his area; can't blame him really. Evidently, nor where the games Franklin lost to top 10 competition since 2017. Its an easy mistake.

 

[step.eng69]

Joe Paterno was an absolute embarassment to Penn State in his later years (starting around the time he bragged about kicking Spanier and Curley off of his door step). His ego was massive, he coddled his kids to the detriment of his football team, and he developed a habit of doing morally incorrect things.

I wish we'd never really speak of him. The older folk hang on to their memories, though.

SCLion,
Sunstroke from exposure?

 

[Psumatt85]

Letter to what editor? The Daily Worker?

I like the personals