There’s a season. Maybe there isn’t a season. Nope, there’s definitely not a season. Actually, wait - there’s a season. Kind of.
No one should be blamed for thinking of the timeless and immortal words of Vince Lombardi, who bellowed, “what in the hell is going on out here!”
All this while, our Penn State Nittany Lions foosball playing team has remained largely silent, locked down behind privacy walls, tucked away deep inside Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. Are they practicing? Are they even allowed to communicate silently, with hand signals? Is anyone still alive? We couldn’t know one single aspect of the mystery. We could only guess.
Not coincidentally, today at 12:30pm Eastern, Penn State Head Bald Coach James Franklin appeared on a Zoom meeting. He exited the Lasch Building and hobbled down the sidewalk toward the waiting media at the gate. He limped horribly, and used a cane to steady himself. Things looked bleak.
But even far worse than that, he had dressed himself in a purple, crushed velvet carnival barker’s suit jacket, and brown suede top hat. It was James from State College’s worst ensemble, ever. Physical wounds heal, but a fashion faux pas like this may never be forgotten. The corona had clearly impacted him mentally and spiritually - perhaps irreparably.
Four feet from the gate, James stopped suddenly and appeared to suffer a stroke. He began to fall forward, limp. And then, the former college QB tucked into a perfect forward roll, leapt high into the air, and nailed a TA-DA! landing like it was the Tokyo Olympics. The spying Russian judges, facilitated by Altoona’s Cory Geiger, begrudgingly held up 9.8 cards.
The charisma king was back, baby. It was time to party.
And Then The Press Conference Started
(waited all day for a transcript - no joy. here’s a stupid video, courtesy of Pittsburgh Sports Live)