"It was right near where we lived," she says. "And I used to go over there all the time, every day. I'd stay hours at a time, sometimes until late evening, practicing my lacrosse shots. Overhead. Sidearm, behind the back. I would bang the ball off the headstones."
Perfect. Candy Finn and the Graveyard Goal.
Finn went on to become a high school whiz. "Mom couldn't afford to send me to college," she says, "so I had to win a full scholarship." She did. And now, a stack of school records later, her collegiate career is winding down. November's postseason play will give her another five games if Penn State rolls through the regionals and nationals again. Then a restless winter until March, and her final lacrosse season, one she hopes will bring back the national championship that Penn State won in her freshman and sophomore years.
"Too bad there's not a pro circuit," she says. "I could maybe get drafted and become another Herschel Walker or somebody." Wicked giggle. Finn expects to go into advertising, her major, but she'll probably have a run at making the U.S. women's field hockey team for the 1984 Olympics.
As for now: "You know what this place is?" Finn says. " Penn State is Happy Valley. The real world lies out there on the other side of Nittany Mountain. Sometimes it scares me."
It scares everybody, Candy. But you've got one big advantage going in. If something happens to go wrong out there, you can just pick up the telephone. Uh, hello, Joe?