Maybe it was being able to run out of the home team dugout for the first time. Maybe it was the backdrop of Tussey Mountain lingering just over the centerfield wall.

Or maybe it was that awful stench of mountain air and cow manure that always manages to fill the air, the kind of smell that makes that $5 lukewarm hotdog you're eating creep back up during the game.

It's uncertain what got into the Penn State baseball team this past weekend, but it may have been as simple as being home for the first time all season.

Before this weekend I hadn't seen the 5-12 Nittany Lions play even one inning.

My only gauge to how good they were was watching those little animated figures on gopsusports.com motor around the bases.

My only reference was an online box score. My only chance to capture the emotions were 10-minute phone conversations with a few players as they sat exhausted on the bus ride home.

I couldn't see the passion on the diamond, or the frustration from coaches and players in the dugout. All I knew was this team was struggling and had yet to come close to reaching its full potential.

Then this past weekend, Penn State served as host for four games, with intrastate rival Lehigh in town for a three-game series, followed by a quick contest against the Golden Griffins of Canisius College.

What I saw on the field those four days wasn't perfect, but it certainly didn't reflect the team's less than stellar start. Ground balls were routinely scooped up, base runners were savvy circling the bags and the opponent's runs per inning slot on the scoreboard remained a big fat zero for most of the time.

I couldn't believe this was the team that had started so poorly. After scoring 25 runs in their previous six games, the Lions rattled off 27 over the four-day stretch, including blasting Lehigh for 18 runs Friday, the highest total in a single game for Penn State since tagging Bucknell with 19 back in 2005.

But the strangest part is that the success of a team at home usually stems from a couple of factors. Playing in a familiar environment, having no travel restrictions and having hundreds of fans packing the seats to offer encouraging cheers all act as a security blanket for a team.

And while not having to lug all of the equipment bags and suitcases was a nice change for the Lions, the other two luxuries were not a factor. With Happy Valley still a virtual wind tunnel, most of the seats remained vacant, providing the team with a dull roar at best. And though the team will practice in Medlar Field for the rest of the season to increase familiarity, the recent weather prevented the Lions from getting into the stadium up until last weekend's series.

Stumped aren't you -- you don't know what made them so effective. Well, join the club.

Since I've started covering sports here at the Collegian, I've had numerous coaches and players tell me the same thing. When asked whether it's nice to be at home, I usually get the same response.

"Yea it'll be nice to get out there on our home field/court/turf/gym. But it doesn't matter where we are, we are still going to go out there and execute our gameplan and play our best."

Yeah, all right. While we're at it, let's just get rid of the student section at Beaver Stadium. I mean its main job is only to expel deafening sounds and chants to the opposing team, i.e. make them feel as far away from home as possible.

So maybe the baseball team doesn't mind playing away from home, and I'm sure the Lions give it their all when they aren't in the confines of Medlar Field (those dots on gopsusports.com really look like they're hustling), but one thing is certain.

Maybe that familiar dugout, peaceful mountainous view and nauseating smell don't exactly put a spark in the Lions, but something in Happy Valley does.

Brian Eller is a junior majoring in journalism and is a Collegian baseball writer. His e-mail address is bpe5006@psu.edu.