I'm still trying to figure this whole Penn State thing out.

On Sunday, dubbed "Rene Sunday" in the Bryce Jordan Center, this whole "what does it mean to be a fan thing" kept flying around my mind. Joe Paterno was on the court, making a little impromptu speech about what Rene has meant to him, and to Penn State. Paterno said hiring Rene was one of the "best things I've ever done for Penn State." And, yeah, that's definitely true when you think about it.

But it was what he said right after that. What he said started turning the wheels in my head.

He made a quick joke about how he "hasn't done much lately" for Penn State, referring to his football team. One winning season in the last five years.

The crowd laughed.

In the moment, it was a funny joke. Paterno's speech could not have been more heartfelt, more earnest in honoring the 25 years of service a colleague contributed to his university, and because it was all those things, people laughed.

I was uneasy. I know too much about sports, too much about how the world of sports in the 21st century operates. Shouldn't Paterno go because of four losing seasons in five years? The critical analysis -- the part of me that knows too much about this sports culture and its "just win, baby" attitude -- it says strike up the band. Usher the farewell. Sure, it can be nice and tasteful, but get it done. Get him out. The ends -- winning -- justify the means.

But that's not the answer.

Rene looked so happy out there. Paterno looked so happy out there. The fans looked happy, too. The Lady Lions were applauding.

I wanted to roll my eyes. A cynic -- a critical analyzer -- I wanted to say, "Oh, come on already!"

What's wrong with me? Why was my initial impulse so irreverent?

My impulse is ingrained in this sports culture of the 21st century. It's all about "just win, baby." It's like capitalism. Wins are in demand. Supply wins.

I want Paterno out. I want to win. I want to win -- now. I want to make all my cynical friends who don't go to Penn State swallow all those "man, you guys really suck" comments. Play football in February. I don't care. As long as we win. As long as we're better than Michigan. As long as you, me, Milton, Penn State -- as long as we are all No. 1.

Let's have a race. Chad Henne vs. Derrick Williams in the 40-yard dash. We would totally win. It would be great. Afterwards everybody would celebrate in the Canyon. I would eat pizza. I would be hung over. We would all remember it forever.

But I'm absolutely, 100 percent, without a shadow of a doubt wrong. This attitude -- the "just win, baby" -- it's all wrong.

I should have been laughing with the crowd. I should have enjoyed what a nice little moment the Penn State marketing department and Penn State sports information department put together for Rene.

I should have been all like, "Yay! Penn State's so quaint. We're such good sports!"

I mean, c'mon, these are incredible people. The man whose silhouette could replace the Nittany Lion on Penn State sweatshirts. The woman whose silhouette is all over the media guide, and the game notes for each game leading up to Sunday's game. "Rene Sunday."

Who am I to judge? Who am I to rain on their parade? Today isn't "Tim Tuesday."

The only fans a cynical, know-it-all, 21-year-old jerk has are other cynical, know-it-all 21-year-old jerks.

They don't name days of the week after smart-asses. They name them after people who actually do things that are beneficial to a greater community, a community bigger than him or herself.

I am not a fan, yet.

I will be a fan when I can see the big picture more clearly. I will be a fan when my initial impulse isn't irreverence, but idolatry. Because that's what being a fan is. Being a fan is believing in someone, something so intently that it makes you forget about winning and losing.

Being a Penn State fan means you believe in Paterno and the "Penn State way," or the "Grand Experiment." It means you buy into all the hokey stuff like singing "Hey Baby" between the third and fourth quarters.

But why does being a fan mean you have to endure all this losing? Why does it have to be so hard?

Every time I turn on a Penn State men's basketball game, the same bottom-rung Big Ten Conference announcers talk about how, "Coach DeChellis tells his players not to care about winning and losing, just as long as they improve the wins will come."

Did that help me on Saturday?

I called my dad.

"We beat Northwestern! Everyone's favorite Big Ten punchline!"

"Oh, that's cool. Did you see Villanova beat [No. 2] Kansas? We beat 'em by 20 points."

He wins. I lost. Again.