State College gave new meaning to March madness.

After witnessing its overachieving basketball team lose to a superior opponent, Penn State students couldn't accept the season's final buzzer.

Temple just manhandled Nittany Lions for 40 minutes while every frat boy, sorority girl, bar-hopper and apartment partier alike sucked down beer after beer in celebration. The Lions survived to the Sweet 16, reason enough to get rowdy.

After all, only Joe Paterno was alive to see the last time Penn State danced for that long.

Tenants along Beaver Avenue stocked up kegs, cigarettes, pretzels, wings, you name it. Employees at Uni-Mart and the like switched shifts, restaurants prepared for drunken droves, and beer distributors found their shelves lonely for a night. Heck, even Joe Camel and that Doritos model made appearances at Cedarbrook. This town, however small and isolated, was going to rock like any big city — like Philadelphia and its ballyhooed Owls.

But . . . brick city met State College. Crispin and Co. couldn't shoot a barn door with a bazooka, and Temple sucked up every rebound like they tasted like cheesesteaks. And, if Penn State was honey, Temple mimicked an angry, famished swarm of bees searching for something sweet. Yes, Temple's defense was that suffocating.

Final score? Temple 84, Penn State 72 — and it wasn't nearly that close. But alas, Penn Staters came to party last Friday, and that final buzzer on CBS signaled yet another saga in "Beaver Canyon."

Police estimated 4,000 people — most of whom tanked as Army privates — stumbled and stammered onto Beaver Avenue between Garner and Pugh Streets shortly after midnight. Once there, the callous crowd pelted street signs, plucked parked Pontiacs, poured Pabst on pedestrians, and stomped sidewalk shrubs. Chants of "We Are Penn State" and "Temple Sucks" echoed in-between buildings, and everyone was all smiles.

But didn't Temple win?

Before I get nabbed, let me first say that I showed my face at the riots as well. I'm not better than anyone else.

However, before the Blitzkrieg borough boys arrived, I stood peacefully in the middle of Beaver Avenue watching my fellow classmates enjoy a moment of extreme lawlessness. I gleefully sipped my beer and I even had a chance to bum a cigarette off some guy sans shirt and socks.

The vast majority of us (Penn State students) however, were not as docile. Even when police arrived packing pepper spray and face guards, defiant deviants stood still. The chants continued, and the March madness moved up and down Beaver Avenue.

When the empty Solo cups settled, 20 arrests were made, including charges of theft, aggravated assault and reckless endangerment. Penn State University, to save whatever reputation it had left, did not release damage estimates.

The point of reliving this evening is simple: Are big-time sport events conducive to starting riots? Or were Penn State students set on rioting win or lose?

My answer is simple: Students were looking for a third riot in two years (wow, a hat trick) that night, as evidenced by the fact that Penn State lost.

There weren't any riots in Philly, were there?

However, sports and riots mesh like Magic and Kareem. Last June, when Los Angeles won it's first title since that tandem reigned, about 10,000 people swarmed the Staple Center's lot to hurl rocks, start bonfires, and flip cars. Sound familiar anyone?

How about this one: Every year, soccer aficionados in Europe brace themselves for guaranteed looting after the European Championship finals. Crowds in places like Denmark and Spain dwarf Los Angeles' showing and State College's combined, and it's hardly unusual to see toothless Oliver Twist's when the melee disperses.

But this is not a history lesson. This is, however, intended to display our absurdity.

We lost and rioted nevertheless.

Victorious Temple, Los Angeles and Manchester United at least had ill-reason to riot.

So, can I get a "We Are Penn State?"

I didn't think so.