The posts over the weekend hit most of the major problems with Saturday's game -- abhorrent special teams, penalties and turnovers being the chief culprits. What struck me most was the psychology of the game. Unlike two years ago, Pitt was not fired up, was not attacking, and was not playing to win. Going for it on 4th and 3 at that stage in the game was not gutsy -- it was panic. It said to the team that walking away from that field position with a two-point lead would not possibly be enough. And that you don't trust your kicker and holder to convert a chip shot. It rattled the team.
Narduzzi's stupid unsportsmanlike conduct penalty may have been an attempt to ignite some fire -- it certainly didn't seem warranted and came across as more panic. Patrick Jones' roughing the passer also was the type of frustration that you see from a team that has given up. The inability to generate any type of passing game and unwillingness to even try in the second half signaled surrender.
It was a strange game. The weather was horrible and unrelenting. Mac Miller's death was a punch to the gut -- not because I was a fan, or even because he was a proud Pittsburgher, but because a 26 year old couldn't save himself from destruction. Or didn't want to. The Hall of Fame inauguration should have been a celebration of greatness, but fell completely flat.
On top of all that, I was keenly aware of how much Penn State has passed Pitt in terms of talent, resources, coaching, and support. It seemed like we didn't belong on the field with them and played that way. I think Narduzzi was aware of just how much of a have-not Pitt has become, and how stark the disparity in talent was.
I wasn't angry at this game. I was sad that a program with so much swagger and success in the late 70s and 80s played like a broken old man left with only a book of yellowed press clippings.
Narduzzi's stupid unsportsmanlike conduct penalty may have been an attempt to ignite some fire -- it certainly didn't seem warranted and came across as more panic. Patrick Jones' roughing the passer also was the type of frustration that you see from a team that has given up. The inability to generate any type of passing game and unwillingness to even try in the second half signaled surrender.
It was a strange game. The weather was horrible and unrelenting. Mac Miller's death was a punch to the gut -- not because I was a fan, or even because he was a proud Pittsburgher, but because a 26 year old couldn't save himself from destruction. Or didn't want to. The Hall of Fame inauguration should have been a celebration of greatness, but fell completely flat.
On top of all that, I was keenly aware of how much Penn State has passed Pitt in terms of talent, resources, coaching, and support. It seemed like we didn't belong on the field with them and played that way. I think Narduzzi was aware of just how much of a have-not Pitt has become, and how stark the disparity in talent was.
I wasn't angry at this game. I was sad that a program with so much swagger and success in the late 70s and 80s played like a broken old man left with only a book of yellowed press clippings.
