A college football circus heads south.

Let’s start this one with a brief editorial note. The analysis presented in this article is relegated only to the experiences of a small handful of local (NEPA-based) Penn State football fans. Final scores aside. Frustrations be damned. Armchair quarterbacking thoroughly exhausted. This is a story of fans, their love of a game (perhaps, a certain team), and the uniquely unifying spectacle of the college football bowl game experience.

We set off before dawn on Friday, December 29. It was a typically busy travel day for the Lehigh Valley International Airport – perhaps a bit busier with New Year’s Eve travel. Regardless, it’s an airport. The very nature of their existence is to be boringly efficient, uneventful, even dull. It’s one of the few places where we gladly accept unspoken commands – eyes forward, keep moving, point A to point B, stay in the flow, don’t be annoying… And we happily did (as we always do). But that day, something seemed unusual.

From the moment we entered the terminal to boarding that small Delta commuter, there was a feeling. Or, let’s call it a connection – something cosmic. Normally, I’m one to immediately dismiss such occurrences as the simple chance of a random universe at play. This one, however, was a bit weird. There were looks as you passed others, almost nods and winks – as if to say, “I know where you’re going.” For the most part, it seemed we had all decided to dress in some form of Nittany blue or white. Surely, I had expected to see a Penn State fan or two, but this was a game in Atlanta, on New Year’s weekend, a bowl game at that and one with little meaning attached – other than what is personally assigned.

Nonetheless, that little airport was full of loyal Penn Staters, proud alums, grandparents, kids, lifelong fans. And aside from a few “normal” travelers (who clearly imagined themselves aboard some cursed Twilight Zone craft), every seat on our little puddle jumper contained a hat, a sweatshirt, pins and patches all bearing that well-known lion. And we were off to the ATL.

It’s Gotta’ Be Warm in Atlanta, Right?

Nope. In fact, it was 49 degrees in PA the day we left. Unseasonably warm? Sure. It was 36 in Atlanta! Side note: If I’m traveling south in late December/early January, it’s supposed to be warm. That’s just how it works. This wasn’t fair. And I’m still complaining, but I digress.

Our travel package through Penn State Sports Tours included, among many additional perks, a stay at the Downtown Atlanta Marriott Marquis, the actual team hotel. The players and the coaches were there. You’d literally just bump into them on elevators and in the ever-ridiculously-long Starbuck’s line. Their families were there, too. And, of course, the fans were there – especially in the lobby… long after any normal person’s bedtime… answering in enthusiastic bursts that spontaneous “WE ARE” with deafening roars of “PENN STATE!!!”

Whether you came into this, like me, a casual fan, or a dyed-in-the-wool, ride or die Penn State supporter, the takeaway is the same. When these people get together, some complete strangers, some not, they know how to have a good time.

For days leading up to our arrival and during our entire stay, the hotel’s lobby bars and restaurants overflowed. The massive, 48-story atrium constantly vibrated with loud conversations about the upcoming game. About the last game. About how far families had travelled and their mornings out and about in the city. Some visited the nearby College Football Hall of Fame, the Georgia Aquarium, and Centennial Olympic Park. Others caught up with old friends at local bars. Throughout it all, there was this unmistakable family reunion vibe.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before we crossed paths with someone from NEPA. Michael Hudacek, Jr., a local attorney hailing from Plymouth was in town for what would be his 41st consecutive Penn State bowl game. Pause here. Absorb that for a minute…

“It all started when I was a young boy who attended the Cotton Bowl on January 1st, 1975.”

He would have been 14 at the time, though his love for Penn State started way before that. “For me, it’s mostly about the football. I have been attending Penn State games since I was a little boy in the late 1960s and I got hooked on the games,” he says.

Mike’s parents, who both only recently passed, had been season ticket holders all their lives. And Mike still is. In many ways, it’s their passion and enthusiasm for the University, the team, the game-time atmosphere and the lifelong friends they’d made through the years that still courses through Mike’s veins. “My parents took me to my first bowl game and to many bowl games following that. For decades, they would attend not only the home games, but all of the away games each season.” He continues, “Their tailgating friends became my tailgating friends and it is a long-running family tradition.”

Like It or Not, You’re a Part of this Thing.

It begins.

Early Friday evening, we had the opportunity to head across town to the Georgia World Congress Center for the official Penn State Alumni Association Peach Bowl Pep Rally. We arrived early not knowing what to expect. The cavernous and architecturally-stunning building appeared quiet and somewhat empty. We feared either we came to the wrong place, had been duped or, worse, nobody would show up. A crowd rumbled in the distance. It sounded eerily familiar to the constant rumble of voices from the hotel atrium. By the thousands, in their blue and white, with pom poms, goofy hats, kids in tow, they filed in.

There was loud, exciting music. Massive screens beamed the season’s highlights across the auditorium. The space grew close as more doors flung open and thousands more piled in. Again, all around, you could hear the sounds of new friendships forming, new connections sparking. Near me, old classmates, PSU alums now in their 40s or 50s, screamed at the chance sighting of each other. Hugs ensued. Shy, confused children were introduced. And the lights dimmed.

The Penn State cheer team blasted onto the stage. The easily-4,000+ crowd roared. The iconic Blue Band shuffled in behind us to the sound of thunderous drums. Everyone collectively lost it. A single voice hollered from the stage. “WE ARE!” The walls seemed to bend as the crowd responded in kind. “PENN STATE!” And again… And again.

Notable alumni took turns on the stage, feeding nuggets of fire to the eager horde. Former players stepped in to add a little fuel. They were followed by a rousing rah-rah speech from University President, Dr. Neeli Bendapudi. But few compared to the president’s toddler grandson taking the mic and throwing out yet another “WE ARE!” That was until the Penn State football team, led by Head Coach, James Franklin, rolled onto the stage. The crowd, stirred into a frenzy of pride, excitement and optimism, poured out into the Atlanta sunset, eager to do their part.

Saturday, December 30 — Game Day

It’s about now when you can start to feel that nervous excitement in your stomach.

The enthusiasm from the raucous, Friday night pep rally continued to flow through this unsuspecting southern metropolis. The cheer team and the Blue Band were up bright and early for a festive parade. We followed along and made our way past the stunning Mercedes Benz Stadium to The Chick-fil-A Peach Bowl FanFest Built by Home Depot.

The pre-game festivities featured vendors, food, games and activities for little fans and big fans alike. Of course, there were more pep rallies (one for each team) and t-shirt cannons and even the Peach Bowl trophy on display. Yes, Ole Miss fans and Penn State fans both crammed into the massive event space. Peacefully.

And then it was game time.

There are few experiences that generate such a strong sense of camaraderie among absolute strangers quite like a big college football game. We ran into our old, NEPA friend, Mike again at the stadium. He was electrified with excitement. Those brief hours prior to a game where the anticipation and enthusiasm are at their peak were what initially drew him into it all over 40 years ago. “It starts with the tailgate,” he said. “I have been tailgating with many of the same people for over 40 years. So, it’s all about enjoying time with your friends and talking about not only the upcoming game, but prior games that year, games to come and seasons in the past.”

As we approached kickoff, the entering crowd thickened. They rushed by to their seats, to the beer stands, to the pizza and BBQ vendors. They filed into lines to grab a t-shirt, a hat – some piece of it all to take back home, to help tell their story. Some, as they passed, offered encouraging fist bumps and nods of agreement. In a sea of oddly-matched strangers, they had found you specifically – a member of their team. And they needed you to know that today, despite all possible earthly distractions and disagreements that may or may not exist outside this brief, magic moment, you were a friend.

“For many people, it’s the tailgating and pageantry associated with the bowl games, but for me, it’s primarily the football,” Mike offered as we started to part ways. “And loyalty,” he quipped. “I think Penn State’s fan base is so loyal because of the friends we have made while tailgating before each game.”

And like that, the Peach Bowl came and went. Like so many moments, like many other events, it now lives in a singular memory replicated and personally edited some 71,230 times over. It’ll be taken back to NEPA, to Austin, to southern Florida, to every corner of the country, to Plymouth, PA. Some of us were fortunate to be there in person. Some watched it from the comfort of home or a local pub. We all know the outcome. Little is gained discussing it here. Two teams entered the field of play – one left with a loss, the other with a win (Congrats, Rebels!). May we someday meet again.

Finally, on the whole experience, we turned to the expert. He is, after all, possibly the biggest Penn State fan I’ve ever met. And with now 41 consecutive bowl games under his belt, we had to ask for a little advice for that fan who sat this one out – the fan who thinks about it every bowl season and decides to stay home.

“If you could do it, you absolutely should,” he said with a grin. “My only advice would be to just do it. Once you go to your first bowl game, you never know, you just might end up going to the next 40.”