On game days at Penn State, the name on every one’s lips is “JoePa,” our 83-year-old coach and father figure to the school. I swear, not since Jesus has a man had so many loyal followers. Plus, Grey had never been to a PSU game before, and this also happens to be the last semester for my 23-year-old brother before he graduates college, we figured we’d watch some ball and give Ollie quality time with his Uncle all in one fell swoop.
Bringing the baby proved to be a giant mistake. While we were at the game, I think Ollie’s poor babysitter (a cute girl I found on Facebook) seemed to be run ragged by my wild son. We think he even sampled the fine vintage of toilet water in our hotel. When we came home he was soaking wet, missing his pants, and with a bruise on his head from God knows what. As my brother put it, “At least he’s still alive.” Yes, survival rate percentage is very important when booking a sitter.
All things considered, it was a great day, and worth the hassle to hang out at my alma mater with my hubby, son, little bro, and 110,000 shirtless screaming frat boys.
Joe Paterno is one of the few names in sports I actually know. So I like to talk about him
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