For decades, the same words have echoed throughout Beaver Stadium during each Nittany Lions football game — “We are ... Penn State!”

We’ll soon find out how much truth the mantra holds.

PSU football will likely take a big step back with the loss of scholarships, a postseason ban and overall public-relations nightmare that’s bound to scare away recruits.

The penalties were unprecedented, but then again, so was the scandal.

Monsters exist in this world and Jerry Sandusky is living proof. The convicted child molester isn’t why PSU football will soon be a shell of its former self, though. The NCAA typically shies away from criminal matters, but the handling of Sandusky couldn’t be ignored.

The crime hurt Penn State’s reputation, but the cover-up led to the debilitating sanctions.

The NCAA probably would have forgiven PSU had the university taken the necessary steps to ensure its monster landed behind bars. Instead, the school covered Sandusky’s tracks, and even worse, never took away his hunting ground.

I applaud the NCAA — which happens about as often as a Pirates’ winning season — even though it levied extreme penalties.

A sexual predator was on the loose and the leaders of Penn State decided the football program’s reputation — along with the money it generates — was more important than the children it welcomed on campus. Although the collateral damage is unfair to innocent players and fans, PSU football had to be reprimanded.

Thanks to the irresponsibility, Joe Paterno has credit for 111 fewer victories than he did on Sunday. I’ve never been a proponent of the NCAA’s attempt to rewrite history by vacating wins. However, in this unique case, it’s hard to argue JoePa deserved those wins.

The Freeh report indicates Paterno was well aware of Sandusky’s inhumane behavior and played a large role in the cover-up. If that’s the case, he should have been fired 14 years and 111 wins ago.

Supporters of Paterno believe the longtime head coach had little knowledge of the situation and fulfilled his legal responsibilities. As delusional as it seems to be — and still a lackluster effort — there is a slight chance of truth.

If true, he was an absent-minded old man who was deceived by colleagues and ignorant of the devious activity within his own program, which to me, sounds like he should have been fired 14 years and 111 wins ago.

Most people don’t know PSU football without Paterno, who was hired as an assistant in 1950. The program did exist, though, and did so proudly.

As the story reportedly goes, Wally Triplett joined the PSU football team in 1946 after his scholarship offer was rescinded by the University of Miami once the school realized he was African-American. Later that season, a game was canceled between the teams because Miami, like most southern schools at the time, refused to step on the field with black players.

PSU decided it would play all or play none.

Before the 1948 Cotton Bowl, which had never featured a black player, the team was asked if it would hold a meeting to discuss leaving Triplett at home. “We are Penn State,” guard Steve Suhey replied. “There will be no meetings.”

The rest is history.

Entrenched in another circumstance which transcends sports, I’m curious to see if the PSU fan base remains loyal.

Will 100,000-plus fans continue to pile into Beaver Stadium, stimulate the small town’s economy and erupt on every first down, even if they are few and far between?

When Sept. 1 rolls around and Ohio University invades State College, I’m willing to bet, “We are ... Penn State!” will echo once again, perhaps louder than ever.

The football program was punished because a handful of cowards failed to do the right thing. But with time, the character of PSU will be defined by the people who rally around it.

Jason Orfao is a staff writer for the Butler Eagle.