Michael T. Mondak speaks: Small Battles, Big Victories Chapter 3: All U Day

In an earlier post I talked about Penn State football's home opener against in-state rival Bucknell.  This chapter is about All U Day against former traditional rival Syracuse at Beaver Stadium.

The second Saturday of September dawned clear and blue over Happy Valley.  A crispness hinted at autumn, but the air still carried the warmth of summer.  On Curtin Road, students painted their faces in navy and white, banners waved from tailgates, and chants of “We Are… Penn State!” rolled like thunder across campus.

This game against former traditional rival Syracuse wasn’t just another home game.  It was All U Day, the celebration that brought together Penn Staters from every campus and community across the commonwealth of Pennsylvania.  Families filed into Beaver Stadium from Altoona, Scranton, Erie, Harrisburg—wearing their colors, their pride, their traditions stitched into every jersey and hat.

Inside Beaver Stadium, the broadcast crew prepared to go on the air at high noon.

“Welcome to ESPN2’s coverage of Penn State football from Beaver Stadium,” Beth Mowins said, her voice clear and charged with energy.  “The Nittany Lions, coming off a big opening week win over Bucknell, are set to battle an old rival—the Syracuse Orange.  I’m Beth Mowins. With me this afternoon, former Buckeye standout and NFL veteran Joey Galloway. Joey, it’s been a while since these two programs met in a game that feels this big.”

“You’re right, Beth,” Galloway replied.  “This rivalry has history.  Syracuse knows Penn State well, and they’d love nothing more than to come into this house on All U Day and spoil the party.”

On the sideline, Jackson Pryts flexed his taped hands, adjusting the strap of his helmet.  He’d grown up hearing about the old Penn State–Syracuse clashes, the battles from the ‘70s and ‘80s when the rivalry burned hottest.  Today, he was part of writing a new chapter.

Far away in Sharon Regional, Cassie Day had settled into her familiar game-day setup.  The nurses had learned the drill by now—bring in the small TV tray, set up snacks, keep the door open so she didn’t feel alone when the room got too quiet.  She wore her Penn State sweatshirt over her gown, the sleeves bunched up at her wrists.

As the teams lined up for kickoff, Cassie whispered, “Let’s go, Jackson,” and clutched her stuffed lion to her chest.

The game opened like a prizefight.  Syracuse’s defense swarmed early, forcing Penn State to punt on its first drive.  But the Lions’ defense answered, and it was Jackson who made the play.

Midway through the first quarter, Syracuse tried a sweep to the right.  Jackson read it instantly, knifed past the pulling guard, and dropped the running back in the backfield for a loss of three.  The stadium erupted.

“It’s Jackson Pryts!” Beth Mowins’ voice rose with the crowd.  “The redshirt junior linebacker shot the gap like a rocket and plastered Strang in the backfield!”

”They don’t call him The Hermitage Hammer for nothing!” Joey Galloway exclaimed.

Cassie clapped so hard her hands stung.  “Yes!” she shouted to no one and everyone.

By halftime, Penn State held a narrow lead—14 to 10—and the tension in the stadium was thick.  The Blue Band’s halftime show filled the field with color and sound, but Jackson’s mind was already on the third quarter.

And then it happened.  On Syracuse’s opening drive after the break, their quarterback dropped back, scanning the field.  Jackson blitzed from the blind side, exploding past the tackle, and leveled him just as he released the ball.  The pass floated high, wobbling—intercepted by a Penn State safety named Zakee Wheatley who raced it back thirty yards.

The crowd went wild.  Chris Fowler’s words would echo weeks later during highlights, but today it was Beth Mowins shouting, “Picked off!  It’s Wheatley set up by the pressure from Pryts!”

Penn State’s offense capitalized, punching in a touchdown that broke the game open.  From there, the Lions rolled, the defense tightening like a vise.  The final whistle came with the scoreboard reading Penn State 31, Syracuse 17.

As the Alma Mater rose again, Jackson tilted his head back and breathed deep, sweat pouring, adrenaline burning hot.  He thought of Cassie.

In Sharon, Cassie was grinning ear to ear, eyes shining bright despite the tubes and machines.  “Two and oh,” she said softly.  “We’re two and oh.”

The season’s story was growing stronger—moment by moment, play by play.