Matt made signs and took them to the recent games and sent a letter to the President of Penn State University to support Terry Smith.
It seems like you are under a lot of pressure to deliver a national championship.
You may not remember me, but we met briefly in the Marriott lobby the day before the Rose Bowl. You were kind enough to record a quick, encouraging message for my friend’s wife while she was battling cancer. That moment stayed with me—and with my friend—for a very long time. That video meant more to their family than you could ever know.
From a fan of over 30 years who embodies what it means to be a true Penn State supporter, I’ll be brave enough to say this: it is okay if we do not win a national championship. If we define success solely—or even primarily—by that single standard, we risk losing the joy, purpose, and identity of what it truly means to be a Penn Stater. If we stay true to the mission and values Penn State Football has always stood for, the results—and the championships—will come in time.
I say that not because I don’t want to see Penn State win a national championship in my lifetime. I absolutely do. I say it because of what I’ve observed across the college football landscape—the game I love—where an unreasonable belief has taken hold among countless fan bases, a belief that has distorted—and in many cases captured—the love, enjoyment, and true purpose of what college football is all about.
There is a growing notion that because of the transfer portal and constant player movement, national championships can be won overnight. And if they are not, then the season—and even the purpose of a football program—is labeled a failure.
That belief is utterly false.
Would it be the worst thing in the world to pause for a moment and reflect on what our true mission is for Penn State Football in this process?
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Is it to win at all costs?
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Is it to make every last penny possible?
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Or is it to build something we can proudly tell our kids—and the next generation—about, something “We Are” proud to protect and build?
I’ve been a Penn State fan for over 30 years. I’ve collected more than 100 game-worn jerseys, flown all over the country for bowl games, and flown back several times a year while living in Hawaii—often a 35-hour round trip—just to be in Beaver Stadium supporting my team. I also took my son to his first Penn State game at just five months old—the Rose Bowl. Along the way, I’ve formed genuine relationships with other fans, coaches, and players because my support has always been authentic and rooted in love for this program. Some people know me simply as Matt from pennstatejerseys on Instagram.
After tough losses, I still find myself asking a familiar question: Why do I watch Penn State Football?
The answer never changes—it’s the people, not just the outcome.
Every fall Saturday, Beaver Stadium is packed, and “We Are” chants unite this community in a way nothing else can.
I also want to be transparent.
I am the individual who printed 150 “Hire Terry Smith” signs and personally handed them out at the Nebraska game—followed by another 500 signs at the Rutgers game. I did this for one reason only: to show visible, genuine support for a man who has spent his career serving Penn State without fanfare, leverage, or entitlement.
This was not about attention, pressure, or influence. It was about standing up for a coach who does not have a powerful agent shaping his narrative, who is not represented by a major agency, but who has consistently served this university with humility and loyalty—without asking much of anything in return.
It was a simple gesture of respect—for service, commitment, and belief in what Penn State Football is supposed to represent.
I want my children to care deeply about things—and to see that their father did everything he could to stand up for someone he believed needed a true voice, simply to get the conversation started about being seriously considered for this job.
Over time, the bigger picture has become clearer to me, and that clarity has only made Penn State Football more meaningful.
Purpose Before Position:
We tell Penn State students—and our kids—all the time: find something you truly love, and you’ll never work a day in your life. When someone is driven by passion and purpose, that energy leads not only themselves, but everyone around them, toward success.
The opposite is also true.
When someone is motivated primarily by money, titles, promotions, or simply the next job on the résumé, they often find themselves stuck in a constant cycle—one that is never fully satisfying and never deeply purposeful.
When I look around college football today, that is exactly what I see in many coaching searches and coaching careers. Too often, coaches are not building something—they are chasing something. The result is constant turnover, fractured locker rooms, and programs that never quite know who they are.
Purpose matters. Motivation matters. And who a leader is when no one is watching eventually shows up everywhere.
Culture, Fit, and Why It Matters More Than Ever:
One of the biggest mistakes across college football today is schools cycling through head coaches like cheap shoes—constantly chasing the next résumé, the next scheme, the next quick fix—while ignoring the most important characteristic of a head coach: the ability to understand culture, lead people, mentor, and motivate young boys into men.
As the saying goes in business, culture eats strategy for breakfast. College football is no different.
Look at Kirby Smart at Georgia. He played there. He understands the expectations, standards, and identity of that program. His success is amplified because his leadership is rooted in authentic connection—something that cannot be replicated by someone passing through.
The same is true with Brent Key at Georgia Tech. He played there. He knows the institution. The culture he is rebuilding is credible because it’s personal—and it’s working.
And consider Kalani Sitake at BYU. He played there, served a mission, and embodies the values of the school. His ability to lead, motivate, and develop young men is amplified precisely because he fits the culture.
In every one of these cases, coaching ability is magnified by cultural alignment. These leaders are not installing culture—they are living it.
That brings me to Penn State.
Terry Smith is Penn State.
He represents service, success, honor, integrity, humility, and stewardship. He understands what it means to lead young men at this university—not just as athletes, but as people. He has earned trust through years of quiet, consistent leadership.
He mentors. He motivates. He holds standards. And he treats coaching not as entitlement, but as a privilege.
In an era when college football feels increasingly transactional, Penn State has the opportunity to choose alignment over impulse—leadership over trend—culture over constant churn.
If you choose to hire him and give him the time and opportunity to lead, and for some reason it ultimately does not work out, you will still have my full support—and the support of the people who matter most—to make another hire. You should not be held to the same unreasonable, reactionary standards that athletic directors across the country are holding themselves and their coaches to. No one is asking for promises or guarantees. We are simply asking for an opportunity; an opportunity to let a leader who understands this program, this culture, and this responsibility be given a chance to succeed. History shows us that the greatest athletic directors and leaders—the ones who are ultimately remembered—are those who had the courage to take chances and the conviction to believe in their own people.
In Closing:
Dr. Pat Kraft, you have a unique opportunity in front of you—one that very few athletic directors truly recognize while they are living it. By choosing to prioritize culture and purpose over short-term pressure and outside noise, you have the chance to build something at Penn State that endures far beyond any single season, record, or headline. If you choose that path, it will define your legacy here in a way championships alone never could. While many of your peers across college football continue to miss this moment—cycling through coaches, chasing trends, and slowly losing their identity—you have the opportunity to lead differently. To protect what makes Penn State special and to build something rooted in belief, alignment, and integrity. That kind of leadership does more than shape a program; it leaves a lasting legacy—one that your family can be proud of long after your time in this position has passed, and one that will be remembered at Penn State for generations.
From a fan who cares,
Matt Wolosz
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