Being a sports fan is pretty simple stuff- you pick a team, you watch said team compete, you wear the team colors and maybe even pull a Puddy and paint your face to really show your support. However, the internet loves to make nonsensical criteria to judge everything and anything- including sports fandom. At some point, you may have been told something ridiculous like "You aren’t a true Penn State fan if you picked Pitt in your bracket," or "You’re not really a fan unless you show up to tailgate by 5:30 a.m. for a night game," like there’s some unseen figure behind the curtain handing out fan credentials based on some asinine subjective list of rules.
No matter how ridiculous, we all probably have something we wouldn’t want to admit to others in your fanbase. So today, the day has come to confess your past sins as a Penn Stater and beg for forgiveness at the altar of BSD. I’ll start things off with something from this past fall that I have yet to admit to anyone.
Let me preface this by saying I never, never, NEVER miss a single play of a Penn State football game. Regardless of the margin I always watch until the very end, even when my spirits are crushed during a blowout loss. I mean, it’s our duty to keep tabs on that fifth-string left guard, right? Then I re-watch each game again in the next few days. And at least once again in the summer when I’m so desperate for football I knit tiny jerseys for the squirrels in the backyard in the hopes they’ll magically organize a game for me to watch while sipping a beer on my patio furniture.
However, on Oct. 3, 2015, I managed to break my cardinal rule. In the midst of Penn State’s 20-14 victory against Army, I somehow managed to fall asleep while sitting upright on the loveseat in my basement. With about eight minutes remaining in the game, I was lulled to sleep and awoke to the 3:30 p.m. game on the television. Once I rubbed my eyes and regained my bearings, I went into panic mode and thought, "Shit, did we just lose to Army???" Fortunately I picked up my laptop and learned the score hadn’t changed from the time I drifted off. Now, while I would like to place the blame for this mishap on John Donavan’s offense, I need to take responsibility for this one. I wasn’t even behind on sleep or anything that could be used as an excuse. The adrenaline that keeps me from sitting throughout a four touchdown blowout just wasn’t pumping through my veins that afternoon, and I failed as a fan to always be there for my team.
So what about you? What’s the one thing that made you a less-than-ideal fan that you should get off your chest?