This is a tale of two halves of a team.

Two halves so different in nature -- an offense troubled, a defense noble -- that it's a pity to see the pairing.

A shame, certainly, but it's nonetheless the lullaby of the season, as one of the characters on this team has adeptly termed it, meaning that the existent dichotomy is slowly rocking to sleep the season and the expectations for it.

In a permanent repose things are not, at least as of yet, but at the present point in time, it seems as though, for this suffering Penn State football team, tomorrow's game at Ohio State has already been scripted.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Tomorrow will be the best of times for the defense; that's what the trend seems, anyway. Here is a defense that has patiently allowed all its pieces to fall into place; that has combated early doubts with play that doesn't allow for doubts. Each week it has done something new, to the point where, really, a single task remains: taking a loose ball back for a touchdown. These are trying times, this Penn State's defenders know, but they also know the fate of the team now rests on them -- scoring is usually a rarity but now has to be a virtual certainty.

And, as maligned as Penn State's offense was last week, the chance exists for times to be the worst of the season tomorrow. One of two scenarios exists. Zack Mills plays, concussion and all, and struggles to make it through the day with all the hits he'll take behind an inconsistent offensive line. Or, Mills doesn't play, and utility player Michael Robinson, despite needing to be at receiver, will be put at quarterback, a position to which he hasn't devoted all of his preparation this season.

It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness

Defensive coordinator Tom Bradley, well, he'll look wise tomorrow. As has happened all season, his players -- tough linemen, headhunting linebackers and snazzy guys in the secondary -- will know where to go, which way to move, how to shut down a shaky Ohio State offense.

Offensively, however, the mixed signals and predictable set of plays, once again, will ensure a sense of foolishness. There isn't one unit to point to -- a receiver drops a pass on one play, a lineman misses a block on the next -- and the lack of answers coach Joe Paterno admitted Tuesday makes it seem as though this will persist.

It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity

There's a belief that the offense has in the defense, a belief that made them thank the guys who have kept every opponent within reach thus far this season. And, in return, the defense maintains it still has confidence in its offense, though there's still a sense of incredulity as to why it simply can't score.

"I don't really know about that," the defense said, simply, when asked about the offense after the Iowa game. Polite, of course, but it was the kind of disappointment that didn't need words. This sharp contrast, continue as it will, means belief is magnified, yes, but so is incredulity, which is far more troubling.

The offense has talked all week about "holding up its end of the bargain," but to see a team tomorrow that's less polarized than it has been all season assuredly cannot be expected. But in all the contrast between the two halves -- whatever the source of the disparity may be and however the gap can be reconciled -- is the reality that no matter what heroics the defense displays, it is still at the mercy of its offensive counterparts.

The final contraposition in the opening passage of Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities reads, "we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way."

Like it or not, deserve it or not, so it goes for Penn State -- it's a tale of two halves, offense and defense, but, each week, the players all go direct to victory, or they all go direct the other way.