I REMEMBER FEELING LIKE SOMEBODY HAD HIT ME over the head with a blunt object. My mouth was wide open. I was stunned into silence. It was the night before the Fiesta Bowl, January 2, 987. Hours before we went out to break heads in the game for the national championship, Penn State’s players and coaches broke bread with Miami’s players and coaches at a barbeque given by bowl organizers. College football, after all, is about sportsmanship. Or so we thought. John Bruno, our punter and team crack-up, had just finished what we thought was a hilarious parody of Miami coach Jimmy Johnson and his stiff, sprayed-up hair. No.
