What did those eyes, behind those thick glasses see this night?
Blocking the sun, watching Northwestern run circles around your defense, your offense foundering until a 49-second, 91-yard drive.
Lofted up on the shoulders of Gus Felder and Eric Shrive, the smile impossible to hold back as you were carried toward midfield.
Kissed by your wife, Sue, surrounded by your grandchildren, flanked by Tim Curley and Graham Spanier on stage with tears running down your son’s cheek, above your rugged soldiers, among them Leo and Stefen Wisniewski, one of the many father-son tandems you’ve coached in 45 years.
Father. Son. Brother. Grandfather. Husband. Coach. Those eyes have seen this before.
In 1994 at Illinois, down by the same 21-point margin you were Saturday, with more at stake then than some milestone you say you could care less about.
In 2001, down 27-9 in the third quarter, before a wily first-year starting quarterback playing with nothing to lose in an otherwise forgettable season caught your first Bear.
Saturday, when you didn’t panic, your staff didn’t panic and your players didn’t panic. How you’ve seen time and again the ship right itself if you keep plugging away. Sixty minutes. Four quarters. Have a little fun out there.
You decided to pull Rob Bolden and bring on Matt McGloin, who withstood an unimpressionable first three drives before the 91-yard, momentum-swinging series in which he went 5-for-6 for 63 yards and a perfectly thrown ball to Brett Brackett in the back of the end zone.
McGloin finished 18-for-29 for 225 and four touchdowns, leading Penn State on five consecutive scoring drives to cap your largest come-from-behind home win ever.
“Unbelievable comeback. Words can’t describe how happy I am and how proud I am of Joe and his program,” said Bobby Engram, an All-American wide receiver on that undefeated ’94 squad. “These young men showed a lot of heart today. For them to come back like that, it was a special way to get No. 400.”
But on this night, McGloin wasn’t the only quarterback with something to prove. Miffed at the lack of attention you gave him in the recruiting process, Bethlehem native Dan Persa stifled your defense, running hard one week removed from a concussion.
But those eyes — and aren’t they better than as recent as January? — calming these days, the fire of an irate coach chasing down officials dying down as you realize nights like Saturday don’t come around very often.
“I’d be dishonest if I told you that wasn’t a moving night for me. It was,” you said, dressed in your blue sweater, your white shirt, tie sticking out at the collar.
Not long before, your eyes met those of your players in the locker room, joined in prayer, thanked this group not for getting you some number but for being a part of a Grand Experiment. For believing.
“He always says keep hustling. Something good will happen,” said Tom Bradley, your longest-tenured assistant on staff, 32 years and counting. “That’s always been his motto around here. There’s not a player here that doesn’t know that one.”
Picking up the microphone inside the stadium, swarmed by love, admiration, adoration, veneration, those eyes held those feelings. And you saw it, gazing around the sanctuary you didn’t want moved from the west side of campus. Then you asked more than 104,000 fans to use their eyes.
“People ask me why I stay here for so long, and you know why? Look around. Look around.”
What did they see? The architect of a program. Humanitarian. Honor. Honest. Humble. Loyal. Respect. Stubborn. No, confident. Glory. Prestige. Trust.
There wasn’t a better script for how this night unfolded.
It was vintage Paterno.
You did it your way.
Only for, like, the 400th time.