OK, Penn State, so you've brought the noise.
The question is, where are you hiding it?
I've been to all three games since the Neiman Group brought the much-hyped "Bring the Noise" campaign to the Bryce Jordan Center, an arena usually cavernous enough that you can hear coaches giving instructions to players from the 32nd row.
Penn State spent $125,000 on the campaign, an athletic department source told the Harrisburg Patriot-News. Where did all of that money go, you ask? By my last count, to the following:
1. Inserting the image of the Nittany Lion mascot into scenes from Hoosiers and Braveheart for a pregame video, which also includes ...
2. ... cameo appearances from Mike the Mailman and the Willard Preacher
3. Supplying the crowd with blue plastic megaphones
4. Playing J-Lo's "Waiting for Tonight" over the P.A. system
Are your ears ringing yet?
Here's the thing about Penn State fans: They have always been able to make noise. The 5-10,000 fans that, ahem, pack the Jordan Center can make just as much noise per person as the 110,000 that show up across the street on football Saturdays.
But here's the other thing about Penn State fans, which is what necessitated all of this noise-bringing: They have always been able to make noise when they want to. The rest of the time, they're perfectly content to sit on their hands.
Cheering during the player introductions and when the cheerleaders fire T-shirts into the crowd during timeouts is not going to get it done, gang. Not even close.
Is watching the Lion run out of the locker room with Gene Hackman enough to inspire you? Yes? All right. Is it enough to keep you going when Brandon Watkins throws a backdoor pass away? When Jan Jagla tosses up a 25-footer for no reason? When the Lions pass the ball around the perimeter for 37 seconds, oblivious to the shot clock?
Prove it. You haven't yet.
Even during football season, Penn State fans (with the exception of my father, whose voice is usually gone by the end of the first quarter) are extremely selective about when they'd like to cheer. Sure, when the opposing team is backed up against its goal line, you'll hear the Blue and White, and yes, the Nebraska game was insanity at its finest, but the Lion faithful found themselves out-hollered by their Auburn counterparts during the Capital One Bowl, despite out-numbering them 3-to-2.
It's far worse at basketball games. Granted, most of the fans, especially those at the women's games, have been around since the Hoover administration, but they know the game well enough to know when to cheer.
Instead, you only hear them when they're booing officials or waving their arms for those darn T-shirts.
The noise must be present during every defensive possession, increasing every time Gene Keady or Tom Izzo or Theresa Grentz rises from the bench, peaking when some visibly nervous 6-10 freshman from Northwestern steps to the foul line with 30 seconds left.
Nathan Rearick, the campaign's public relations representative, hit it on the nose a couple of months back when he said that the crowd can become like a sixth man. This is true.
But if you've got a sixth guy on the court, wouldn't you like him to contribute while the game is actually going on?
Since the noise has been brought, there have been more fannies in the seats.
There have been more shouts of encouragement from the mouths belonging to those fannies. Sure, the women don't need much help (the Lady Lions are 9-0 at home). And the men (3-8 in their last 11 conference home games) might need more help than you can give them. But until you decide to keep the noise alive for the entire game, Penn State fans, it really isn't even worth bringing in the first place.
