Why did I have to read this?

fletch

Nov. 6, 1999. That is a date, but it's also a switch.

Turn it on. Mention the date to somebody who won that day, somebody who got lucky, and suddenly an NFL player -- Tyrone Carter, now with the Steelers -- leaps onto a folding chair, jumping up and down, trying to recreate the moment when LaVar Arrington flew within inches of blocking the field goal that would reverse everything. Arrington missed, Carter remembers; he jumped as high as he could, and it wasn't high enough. "It was one of the greatest feelings of my lifetime," Carter says, "second to having my kids."

Mention the date to somebody who lost that day, somebody who felt the stomach-punch of an upset defeat. Mention that date to somebody who has watched the residual effects of a 60-minute game persist for years. Justin Kurpeikis started for Penn State that day, and, almost six years later, upon the mention of that date, he says, talking on his cell phone, "I'm about to drive my car off the road here."

On Nov. 6, 1999, Penn State played Minnesota, and the game started the way almost all of them had that year. Something like 97,000 at Beaver Stadium screamed "We Are ...," the words carrying the weight of pride, and within minutes the No. 2-ranked, undefeated Nittany Lions had steamrollered to an early lead, throwing hard tackles and bouncing with swagger and leaving the television announcers to wonder how anything short of divine help could keep the game close.

"We were 9-0 at that point," says Kurpeikis, a junior that season. "There was a feeling that something special was on the horizon."

Then, the horizon changed. Nov. 6, 1999, re-colored it. On a last-second field off the toe of a freshman kicker, Minnesota defeated Penn State, 24-23. And just like that, everything switched. The horizon grew dark. The Lions, staggering, lost two of their final three games that season. Losing seasons followed in 2000 and '01. Years passed, the losing continued. Even when the roster recycled and players no longer knew the heartbreak of that game, they still played like it. The Lions dropped the games they should have won.

Turning points, naturally, emerge only after years. But some now call Nov. 6, 1999, the day when everything derailed. Since that day, Penn State -- which faces Minnesota tomorrow at Beaver Stadium -- has lost to the Gophers every time. The program with only one sub-.500 season in Joe Paterno's first 34 years has since endured four in the past five years.

"That was the game right there," current Penn State defensive end Tamba Hali says.

"After we lost that game, everything started to go downhill."

Nobody can say why. Paterno still talks about the game, speaking about its lessons, current players say. No Penn State team since has fielded a lineup with more talent. That particular year, the Lions' defense was an unforgettable storm. Two players -- Arrington, a linebacker, and defensive end Courtney Brown -- were months away from an April Saturday when NFL teams selected them with the first two overall draft picks. Even the defense's role players were future pros -- Kurpeikis, David Macklin, Brandon Short.

And that defense faced one final Nov. 6 challenge. With 1:50 left, Minnesota gained possession at its 20, down, 23-21. The Gophers had lost a lot of close games like this; Penn State had won a lot of games like this. Earlier in the season, the Lions had defeated Pitt by three when Arrington blocked a last-second field goal. They had defeated Miami by four on a 79-yard Kevin Thompson touchdown pass with less than two minutes left.

Even as Minnesota drove down the field, Penn State buzzed with confidence. Then, precedent reversed. On a fourth-and-16 prayer, Gophers quarterback Billy Cockerham heaved a jump-ball to Penn State's 13-yard-line. Three Lions and one Gopher awaited the pass as it spiraled in from the sky. But nobody saw the player who caught it: After a deflection, Minnesota receiver Arland Bruce dived toward the pass, prowling in from who-knows-where and catching the ball just inches from the ground.

"That Hail Mary," says Macklin, one of the Penn State defenders on the play. "How did that happen? I'll never know."

Twenty-eight seconds still remained -- a surreal scene, one that would pass in slow motion and then later, in memory, many times more. Minnesota danced down the field to the spot of the catch and formed a frantic huddle.

Those on the sideline, like Carter, an All-American safety, crouched onto their stomachs and prayed.

The Gophers used three plays to run the clock. Two seconds and one field-goal attempt remained, and the final flash of action narrowed into one match-up. Minnesota freshman kicker Dan Nystrom paced backward, readying for a 32-yard field goal. And 10 yards behind the line of scrimmage, Arrington leaned into a starting position, hoping to perfectly time a running start and leap toward the ball.

Nystrom struck the ball, and Arrington flew, reaching his hand within a foot of the ball. But he never touched it. When the linebacker fell to the ground, he stayed there, motionless. He heard the sound of an upset: The jubilant yelling of a few wrapped inside the silence of thousands.

"Oh, it was over, man," Carter says now.

"It was like, you can't even explain it. The whole place was silent. Nobody could believe it. You look at it, even now, and they ain't never recovered."

"We had big hopes of winning the national championship," recalls Macklin, "and those were basically shot. Our dreams were gone."

"Let's face it," Minnesota coach Glen Mason says. "We got lucky."

Penn State left the field that day, somber and suddenly luckless. That particular group of Lions left, graduated, moved on, never really talking much about Nov. 6, 1999. In silence, the game grew into a small-scale curse.

And then, it left one more twist in its wake.

Penn State, entering another game against Minnesota, hasn't lost since Nov. 6, 2004.