No Names, All Game

No Names, All Game

Well, hello!

It’s July and I’ve been seriously missing all of you Nittany Lions. Quite honestly, I’ve been counting the days until August just so I could say hello and excitedly remind you that we’re just a couple weeks from kickoff.

But then what’s this... the news from the Football team that the players’ names are coming off the jerseys? WHAT?!

I still feel like I’ll believe it when I see it. Is there another shoe waiting to drop? Are we taking the names off but stepping out in dreadful Maryland-esque unis?

Coach Franklin said this: “I've thought about this from day one. I just thought year one wasn't the right time to make this decision.” I have huge respect for him over that mentality; I agree that a major part of one’s first year in leadership is getting the lay of the land.

And he said this: "Restoring some of the history and tradition, I think it's a step in the right direction.” Yes. It. Is. jersey 1

I might have to take this as a sign we’re about to get our mojo back. And that’s not the only sign the universe has sent me this summer.

Do you remember that scene in A League of Their Own with little boy Stilwell sing-songing “You’re gonna lo-ose yo-ou stii-ink”? Tom Hanks, as coach Jimmy Dugan, sees a sign that his team will win and starts shouting over the boy, “We’re gonna win... WE’RE GONNA WIN!” (What? You haven’t watched that movie 85 times like I have? You’re seriously missing out.)

You guys, I’ve received that sign. We’re gonna win.

Last weekend, we ordered Chinese food for dinner. Here’s my fortune: Your sports team will be very successful this year. Have you ever seen a fortune like that? No, no, you have not.

During my first season on Lion’s Pride staff, I ran into my fifth grade teacher and he told me he reads my blogs. Of course I took it is proof that I’m practically famous. He said, “I agree with you on everything, except the names; I like the names.”

Sorry Mr. K, I know you and others liked the names, but I for one am ecstatic to see them go. With our nameless tradition restored and Chinese fortune on our side, I can’t wait to throw my proverbial baseball mitt at the haters. Hahaha got ‘em.

Black shoes, basic blues, no names, all game. See you in 38 days.