STATE COLLEGE, Pa. — If you listened closely Saturday night, you could almost hear the sound of helmets thudding into the Rose Bowl turf, echoing all the way back to Happy Valley. That’s the sound of another Penn State “turning point” under James Franklin turning straight into a dead end.
Penn State, ranked in the top five just two weeks ago, strolled into sunny Pasadena as 24.5-point favorites over an 0–4 UCLA team that had lost to New Mexico, Northwestern, and UNLV — yes, that UNLV — and somehow walked out 3–2, 0–2 in Big Ten play, and utterly exposed.
This was a field Penn State was supposed to grace as Big Ten Champions in January, donning a College Football Playoff patch on New Year’s Day. Pasadena was the goal, but now, it looks like the end point for a once promising season, at least on paper that is.
There’s losing a tough road game in conference play, and then there’s whatever that was on Saturday.
The Nittany Lions had more returning offensive production than any contending team not named Clemson. They had a veteran quarterback in Drew Allar, two future NFL running backs, a seasoned defense, and, allegedly, revenge on their minds after losing to Oregon in the White Out. Instead, they looked like a team allergic to urgency, rhythm, and accountability against the Bruins.
This wasn’t a jet-lagged stumble. It was a full-blown collapse — the kind that sends fanbases into existential crisis mode and message boards into meltdown.
Same old Penn State, just worse
For a decade now, James Franklin’s program has lived in the land of almost. Almost elite. Almost playoff-caliber. Almost ready to dethrone Ohio State or Michigan. Every year, the story is the same: the Nittany Lions win 10 games, lose the big ones by a possession or two, and turn the page to “next year” after a New Year’s Six Bowl appearance.
Saturday wasn’t that. Saturday was rock bottom.
Now, I know you might be thinking, they only have two losses and half the season left to go. Well, yes, but their wins are over an FCS team and two FBS opponents rated below many FCS squads in Sagarin.
In the two power 4 games Penn State has played, they look horrible.
Translation? We have no idea if Penn State is even worthy of the mid-pack in the Big Ten right now.
Losing close to a top-five opponent is one thing. Getting your doors blown off by a winless UCLA team with an interim offensive coordinator — who had been on the job two days — is malpractice. Jerry Neuheisel, the Bruins’ interim OC, had headset issues all afternoon and still outschemed Penn State’s defensive coordinator Jim Knowles, who left Ohio State on bad terms, only to give up 42 points to a team that could barely score on New Mexico.
That’s not bad luck. That’s institutional rot.
Excuses are thin, even in Pacific Time
Sure, Penn State had to travel across the country, into Pacific Time, and play in front of a few thousand scattered fans at the Rose Bowl — a stadium that felt more like a preseason scrimmage crowd than a major college football game.
But let’s be honest: time zones don’t explain looking like a team that didn’t even open the playbook until two days before the game.
This game was supposed to be a “get-right” opportunity after the Oregon debacle. Instead, it turned into a get-laughed-at opportunity. Franklin’s bunch showed up unfocused, unmotivated, and uncreative.
Allar’s numbers were fine on paper, but the offense had no rhythm and no answers, especially early. It was 27-7 in the first half!
Those two All-American running backs — Singleton and Allen, the crown jewels of the roster — were stranded in a scheme that looked like it was drawn on a napkin.
This is a program with every advantage — facilities, money, recruiting, and continuity — yet it keeps finding new ways to waste all of it.
A UCLA team that had no business winning
To make matters worse, the opponent wasn’t some sneaky, rising power. This was a UCLA team in shambles. Head coach Deshaun Foster was fired in September, the Bruins were reeling after three straight non–Power Four losses, and their fanbase had emotionally checked out.
Neuheisel, 33 years old and barely through his first week as interim OC, pieced together a game plan with quarterback Nico Iamaleava that shouldn’t have worked on air — let alone against a defense filled with future pros.
Yet there was Iamaleava, carving up Knowles’ unit like a Heisman hopeful, posting career numbers and smiling on the sideline while Penn State looked dazed.
You can’t spin this one. Not even Franklin’s most loyal defenders can. Losing to UCLA in 2025 — this UCLA — is indefensible, no matter how you script it.
The illusion shatters
Penn State fans have long bristled at comparisons to Notre Dame — the “overhyped pretenders” of the sport. Well, congratulations, Nittany Nation: you’ve become exactly that.
For years, Franklin’s been sold as the guy who could take Penn State from “very good” to “elite.” He’s recruited at a top-10 level, built NFL pipelines, and mastered the art of winning games he’s supposed to win.
The only problem? He never actually won the big one, once his program was ready to take the next step.
Credit Franklin for his successes at Vandy and for getting Penn State out of the post-sanctions gutter from the Sandusky fallout. However, he took the Nitanny Lions to the doorstep and never broke in, nor did he even crack it open.
But now the formula has flipped. Franklin isn’t just failing to win the big ones; he’s losing the unlosable ones, in a year where everything had to happen.
The “10-2” model used to be comforting. It meant competence. Stability. Something you could sell to boosters and recruits. But after this collapse, 10-2 feels like the ceiling. No, not the one it’s always been, I mean the absolute best case scenario. Forget the “ifs” and buts” of maybe getting by the Buckeyes.
10-2 would be a miracle bigger than Penn State’s failed lateral attempt on the last play Saturday.
You don’t beat Ohio State, certainly not on the road, and you now have no mulligans left.
Sure, you could prove UCLA to be a fluke game like Alabama had against Florida State, but then what?
You’re 0-2 in conference play, so you can’t sneak into Indy and steal a playoff spot.
Seriously, this thing looks done for Franklin and company.
What’s left to play for?
With road trips to Ohio State and Iowa still on deck — and home games against Indiana and Nebraska mixed in — there’s no real margin for error. One more loss, and Penn State’s Big Ten title hopes are cooked more than a Lincoln Riley brisket. Two, and they’re fighting for an Outback Bowl invite at best.
Even a win in Columbus won’t erase the embarrassment of Saturday. And if they lose to the Buckeyes? The College Football Playoff committee won’t even need to discuss them.
This was supposed to be the year Franklin finally turned the corner — from “10-2 program” to “national championship contender.” Instead, they’ve careened straight off the map.
The preseason playoff buzz is gone. The national relevance is gone. Drew Allar’s Heisman hopes? Vanished. And the excuses? Those are wearing thin too, not just in Happy Valley, but with Franklin’s closest friends.
A fanbase on edge
You can feel it around State College. The whispers are turning into full-throated frustration. Franklin’s buyout is massive — north of $50 million — but that doesn’t stop fans from asking the question: what are we doing here?
It’s not easy to sell a job that’s treated 10-2 like failure, but it’s also hard to defend 10-2 when those two losses keep looking like carbon copies of each other. Now, tack on a “what just happened” loss in Pasadena and you have utter disaster.
Josh Pate said last week that Penn State was headed in a “new direction,” under Franklin and the clock was ticking. He didn’t know if it’d be good or bad. Turns out, we found out fast.
Now Franklin’s staring down the barrel of another lost season — only this one’s uglier than usual.
Yes, even more frustrating to Penn State faithful than the 2020 COVID season, which finished at 4-5.
The bigger picture
Franklin isn’t a bad coach. He’s a great recruiter, an elite marketer, and a stabilizer in the post-Paterno era. But at some point, results have to matter. This isn’t Mark Stoops at Kentucky and you no longer have the lifetime contract security at Vandy for winning 9 games.
You can’t keep showing up to nationally televised games and putting on the same rerun. You can’t keep trotting out the same stale playbook and expecting a different outcome.
Penn State has too much talent to look this lost, too much experience to look this flat, and too much pride to lose to a team that had to borrow headsets on the sideline.
Saturday wasn’t an upset. It was an indictment.
The verdict
This program isn’t cursed. It’s complacent.
Franklin built a machine that can win 10 games in its sleep, but somewhere along the line, he stopped asking why it couldn’t win 12. The system that once guaranteed stability has calcified into predictability.
Penn State isn’t on the brink of collapse — it’s already fallen. The Nittany Lions are no longer chasing Michigan or Ohio State. They’re chasing relevance in 2025.
And after losing to an 0–4 UCLA team that barely knew its own playbook, they might not find it again anytime soon.
Happy Valley? Not this week.
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