College football has always prided itself on passion, integrity, and the belief that no matter how fierce the rivalry, fairness will always be the anchor holding the sport together. But after what we witnessed in that game — particularly after Penn State’s 37–10 victory over Nebraska — it has become impossible to ignore the storm brewing beneath the surface. A storm made not of bad plays or questionable strategies, but of a deeper, more dangerous issue: the blatant inconsistency in how rules are enforced and how certain teams seem shielded from consequences.

It started with a hit that looked wrong from the moment it happened. You could tell instantly — the angle, the momentum, the eyes of the defender — that the play had nothing to do with the ball. It was aimed directly at the player, with a force that carried intention, not accident. Fans gasped, coaches tensed, and for a split second, everyone waited for the referee’s hand to rise. But it didn’t. And that silence wasn’t just surprising; it was alarming.

Because what followed was even worse. Instead of remorse or even neutrality, the guilty player walked away with a smile — not the smile of triumph, but one that said he already knew how this would be treated: as nothing more than “incidental contact.” A phrase fans have grown tired of hearing. A phrase used far too often to excuse dangerously irresponsible behavior on the field, as long as the perpetrator happens to be wearing the “right” colors.

This is the problem that has pushed so many coaches and players to the edge of frustration. They train, they prepare, they sacrifice, but when the moment of truth comes, they are forced to play a game where the rules seem applied unevenly. Where the NCAA’s promise of integrity feels more like a marketing slogan than a principle. And when a team like Penn State — one that fights hard, plays clean, and earns a solid victory — still finds itself facing unfair treatment or overlooked violations, it becomes clear that something is deeply wrong.

Penn State fans aren’t asking for special treatment. They aren’t demanding favorable calls or easy wins. They simply want the game to be what it claims to be: fair. They want every player to be protected, every foul to be judged equally, every dangerous hit to be recognized for what it truly is. And when that doesn’t happen, it leaves a stain on the sport and a bitter taste in the mouths of those who care about the game the most.

The NCAA likes to declare itself the guardian of fairness. It tells players to trust the system, tells fans to trust the reviews, tells coaches to trust that the right call will always prevail. But that trust is fading. Not because of one mistake, not because of one game, but because this pattern has appeared too many times to be ignored. The invisible lines, the uneven scrutiny, the protective shield around certain teams — these aren’t imagined. They are felt. They are seen. And they are driving a wedge between the sport and the people who love it.

If college football continues down this path, if “incidental contact” becomes the shield for every reckless act, then the sport risks becoming something unrecognizable. A battlefield where talent and discipline matter less than reputation and favoritism. And that is something no fan, no coach, and no athlete deserves.

Perhaps that is why some people are beginning to question whether the next game should even take place. Not as a form of protest, but as a moment of reflection — a forced pause to ask what kind of future this sport is heading toward. Because a game built on unfairness is not a game worth playing. And if the NCAA refuses to confront the issues standing right in front of it, the consequences will be far greater than a single bad call. It will be the slow erosion of trust in a sport that millions hold close to their hearts.

For now, all we can hope for is that someone in power is willing to listen, willing to act, and willing to restore the principles that once made college football great. Before it’s too late.