Progrums

In a move that has sent shockwaves through the Beaver Stadium concourse (and possibly registered on the Richter scale in Happy Valley), Penn State’s vaunted linebacker corps has discovered an unwelcome surprise: there is, in fact, no Plan B. When star defender Tony Rojas went down with a long-term injury, coaches frantically flipped through laminated roster cards only to realize they’d left crucial pages blank. Now, instead of a finely tuned defensive machine, the Nittany Lions are bracing for something more akin to a neighborhood pickup game—complete with pizza breaks and halftime mutiny.This newfound realization has spawned crisis meetings featuring whiteboards filled with doodles of potential linebackers (including several parking lot attendants and one very bewildered recruiting assistant). Rumor has it one coach even proposed drafting the mascot, the Nittany Lion, onto the field—because who wouldn’t fear a 200-pound cat in full pads?Meanwhile, the rest of the defense has sworn a blood oath to cover twice the ground, hit twice as hard, and maybe even learn the art of teleportation if that’s what it takes. Fans, meanwhile, have taken up a new hobby: collectively holding their breath whenever the opposing offense lines up near the line of scrimmage. Campus therapists report their appointment books have never been fuller.Through it all, Tony Rojas remains the unwitting hero of this unfolding drama—nursing his injury with the smug satisfaction that comes from single-handedly exposing one of college football’s best-kept secrets: you really can’t teach backup depth when you never bothered to recruit any.