Blue White Illustrated

to be the leaders. They were legacy recruits, among the dozens of other players for nearly 100 years who were raised on Penn State football by their fathers and/or other family members who had played for the Nittany Lions. Mauti, now a linebacker with the Min- nesota Vikings, isn't being selfish when he says he is glad the names are being re- moved. "Unique and unprecedented cir- cumstances led to putting the names on to the jerseys, and I think looking back it will represent a tough time at PSU where the players on those teams were recognized for their commitment to their university and their program," he said. "Without a past, we don't know who we are and what we stand for. "Traditions at PSU have been around since before any of us were born, and it's important to pass down those traditions and that culture to future players and stu- dents. Without the tradition and history at PSU, we'd be just another school. But Penn State is a special place, and it's the quality of its people that make it that way, so hopefully those traditions will continue to be passed on to future generations." Mauti sounds like the "chip off the block" that he is. Father Rich, a wide re- ceiver and kick returner in 1975-76, was ecstatic when he learned the names were disappearing. "It has had a special meaning to all who played before without the names," said Rich, now co-owner of a major property management company in the New Orleans area. "It also had a place and a special meaning for the group of student-athletes who were honored by wearing their names on a Penn State jersey the last three years. That was a special group of young men and coaches that made the unprecedented sacrifices to solidify and continue the tra- dition and honor of Penn State football. "Too many student-athletes, coaches, fans and Penn State employees dedicated themselves to create an environment that set itself apart from other universities in a powerful way, and many times in the face of countless adversities. They created a place that we are all so proud to be part of. We all have an obligation to continue to protect those traditions that carried us through." Tony Pittman is another legacy recruit who played in the years between the two Mautis. His father, Charlie, was Paterno's first All-America running back in 1969. Tony was a starting cornerback on the undefeated 1994 Big Ten/Rose Bowl cham- pionship team, and, like his father, a first- team Academic All-American. "Seeing that announcement pop up on my phone was a moment in life I will never forget," said Pittman, now a Hewlett- Packard procurement executive in Dallas. "I grew up always knowing the deep mes- sage behind those plain jerseys with no names. That plainness connected all of us, and with Coach Franklin's decision, I feel that a core thread of connection has been re-established – not just a thread connecting players, but a thread connect- ing the entire Nittany Lion nation. It was an emotional moment. "If you look behind any organization that has enjoyed enduring success, you will find traditions and core values that stand the test of time. Staying true to these values does not mean that you get stuck in the past, as some may fear. All organizations have to adapt. But the core values are the bedrock. They get you through tough times, and they define your team's character. Penn State football has a character, a collective persona, that means something special to so many." Of the approximately 800 members of the Letterman's Club, Richardson made a special point of contacting Troy Drayton, who has refused to watch any Penn State game since the names went on the jerseys. Drayton exemplifies a special breed of for- mer player, the walk-on. He finally received a scholarship in 1992, his senior year, and went on to become a third-team All-Amer- ica tight end. After an eight-year career in the NFL, he returned to Penn State in 2008 to finish work on his undergraduate degree, and subsequently he got an MBA and real estate license. On the eve of the 2013 season opener against Syracuse, Drayton told Dustin Hockensmith of PennLive.com he wouldn't watch another Penn State football game until the names were removed, say- ing, "I have a hard time with it, I really do. I follow them from afar, but I can't fathom watching a game. … I know what it stood for. It's tough as a hardcore Penn State traditionalist to swallow that." In a follow-up article by Hockensmith on the day of Franklin's surprising an- nouncement, Drayton said he kept true to his word. "There were a lot of guys who were staunchly against it, but they would still watch the team," said Drayton, now the youth and community programs manager for the Miami Dolphins. "A lot of the guys really supported the team. I supported the team. I just didn't watch any games because I couldn't stand to watch all the years of building this tradition go down the drain." When Penn State made Franklin's decision public with a press release at about 10 a.m., Drayton was one of the first lettermen Richardson contacted. "I'm not aware of anyone else who didn't watch the games because of the names, and I sent him a text message because I knew he had such strong feelings," Richardson said. "He was very happy, like the other lettermen." Caldwell had his own mission that morn- ing. "After that squad meeting, they took a photo with me and the lettermen and the six players who are left [on the current team] who had played for Coach Paterno," Caldwell said, "and [senior wide receiver Matt] Zanellato walked over to me and said, 'Your wife is the one who put these names on the jerseys, and I want you to take it off personally.' [Defensive end Anthony] Zettel heard him and said the same thing." One of the more quaint aspects of using names for the first time in 2012 was that Caldwell's wife, Karen, had personally done all the sewing on her home machine. She had been repairing the plain jerseys for years and she volunteered to sew the names on rather than have the professional company do it as part of the heat-set panel process. "They heat-set the names on panels and then she sewed on the panels," Spider recalled. "It took Karen two weeks because there were 215 jerseys, one set for blue and another for white." K I C K O F F I S S U E

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