College Football

...AND SATURDAY'S GOAT
Penn State coach Joe Paterno, whose Lions were shut out 10-0 by Pitt. Time and again Pitt confronted the Penn State offense with a nine-man line, daring the Lions to throw, but Paterno insisted on sticking with his ground game, which wound up with fewer than 100 yards for the second time this season. "I think I did a lousy job," said Paterno. "I got my offensive coaches all screwed up. They had some things they wanted to do, and I kind of stuck my two cents in."

SYMBOLS AT THE CITADEL

A year ago, The Citadel attracted nationwide attention because of an ugly hazing incident in which five white-robed upperclassmen burned a small cross in a black freshman's room. That and other racial embarrassments prompted the school to establish a committee on race relations that recommended, among other things, that the traditional use of Confederate symbols at Bulldog football games be curbed. But old habits die hard. After touchdowns, white cadets continue to wave Confederate flags while blacks have in recent years taken to waving American flags; whites stand during the school band's rendition of Dixie while blacks remain seated.

Now The Citadel's Afro-American Society has come up with what it envisions as a unifying symbol, the Bulldog Towel, which comes in blue or white and bears a paw-print insignia and the words EL CID. Ken Gordon, the society president, says he hopes that the Bulldog Towel will replace both the Confederate and American flags and that The Citadel's student section will look less like Antietam. "We decided it was time to take the initiative," says Gordon. "We borrowed the concept from the Minnesota Twins' Homer Hanky." The towels made their debut during Saturday's 27-17 loss to Appalachian State. Gordon says he sold about 500 for $5 apiece, and he hopes they will continue to wave at The Citadel's last home game this week against Furman. The Citadel's president, Major General James A. Grimsley. Jr., has voiced support for the Bulldog Towel. Now it's up to the cadets.

DOGGED EFFORT

With the recent changes at Notre Dame—new president, new athletic director, new football coach—Marge Andre sees a golden opportunity to revive her longtime crusade. Andre is vice-president of the Irish Terrier Club of Chicago, and for years she has been hounding the Notre Dame administration to reinstate the terrier as the Irish's mascot. "The time is ripe," she says.

The terrier tradition in South Bend began in 1930 when a fan gave Knute Rockne an Irish terrier named Brick Top Shaun Rhu, who became the unofficial mascot. In 1935 a terrier named Clashmore Mike succeeded Brick Top Shaun Rhu, and his name became almost as important in the Notre Dame lexicon as the Gipper and the Four Horsemen. He and Clashmore Mike II and III scampered on the sidelines during the next three decades. In the '60s, upon the death of Mike III, the terrier was discontinued as mascot, apparently because the stadium maintenance crew, who had been caring for the dog, no longer wanted the responsibility. A student prancing about in a leprechaun costume became the sole symbol of Irish pride. That irks Andre. Last year she presented Notre Dame officials with a bring-back-the-terrier petition bearing the signatures of 3,500 Irish fans. She got nowhere, but now she has exacted the promise of a meeting with the new athletic director, Dick Rosenthal, after this season. A Notre Dame spokesman, perhaps reluctant to alienate either the terrier or the leprechaun lobby, says both mascots will get a fair hearing.

ACCOMMODATING GUESTS
Columbia, whose NCAA Division I record for consecutive losses stands at 40 games after Saturday's 31-20 beating by Cornell, isn't the only school experiencing football futility. Also on Saturday, Kentucky lost its last road game of the season, 27-14 to Florida. With that defeat, the Wildcats, who have won all five home games so far this year by an average of nearly 25 points, ran their string of away losses in the SEC to nine. Kentucky hasn't won a conference road game since November 24, 1984. "I'm getting tired of losing on the road," says coach Jerry Claiborne. "We've got to get that monkey off our back. I tell our players to just pretend the fans are cheering for us." Maybe in '88 you can try earplugs, coach.

CHANGING SIGNALS

When Brian Johnson was a star quarterback two years ago at Skyline High in Oakland, he hoped to play college ball at UCLA. But the Bruins' football coaches don't encourage kids to play a second sport, in Johnson's case, baseball.