So you're only human, and you can't possibly help it -- blaming is an evolutionary trait, and those among us who blame most make for the loudest fans and the best critics.

Then we get noisy. A team like Penn State starts losing, and the fingers rise, pointing to anything -- anything that's different, or maybe anything that stays the same. Every variable draws its fingers, but few draw more than Penn State's strength and conditioning program, which employs an uncommon philosophical approach and a desire to keep most of its methods secret.

One photo of the weight room in the team's media guide offers some clues: 13,000 square feet, mats stretched wide, sun beaming through paneled windows on the right

Most important, machines are everywhere. In all, 120 machines spread from front to back in even precise rows. It is here, in this resplendent gym, where Penn State players train like few other teams in the nation.

Players rely mostly on machines, not free weights. The workouts pass quickly -- often in 30 to 45 minutes. The players perform one set, not multiple sets; and they stick with a given exercise until they reach absolute, muscle-dissolving exhaustion. "You exercise, all-out, to the point of fatigue," safety Andrew Guman said. "And then you move right on to the next exercise."

A few NFL teams use this style, as do some other NCAA teams -- such as Michigan -- citing it as safer and more time efficient. But the majority -- maybe 90 percent -- employs "Olympic-style lifting," which requires more free weight exercises, multiple reps and longer workouts.

As a minority, Penn State also is a target. Yesterday, an ESPN.com article quoted an unnamed Big Ten assistant coach suggesting Penn State players, preparing for tomorrow's game against No. 9 Purdue, aren't developing physically as they might at other programs. Fans, too, make the strength program a regular target of questioning.

But here's the funny thing about the finger-pointing and the blame. It's rare, among fitness and conditioning experts, to find points of agreement. The debate is a cacophony. High-intensity or Olympic-style? Machines or free weights? Arguments carry on, voiced at coaching conventions and reasoned in academic journals. But right here, in a strength and conditioning industry fractured by its philosophical differences, trainers and coaches and players surprisingly agree on this much: At Penn State there's nothing wrong at all.

"When I was there, Penn State was kicking [butt]," said former Penn State strength coach Dan Riley, now with the Houston Texans. "That shows you it can work. It's stupid to say the program is a problem now but it was OK then. But the only way to stop the talk is to win. When you win, nobody points fingers."

*

So you're a freshman playing ball at Penn State. Did some lifting in high school, but only enough to stay clear of the coach's doghouse. Now you are lying chest-down on a leg machine; your gray T-shirt is turned black with sweat, and a man with a sharp nose, short hair and wheelbarrow-wide shoulders is standing behind you.

This is John Thomas, Penn State's strength and conditioning coach, and his words encourage more reps, more effort. You give it.

"You finish lifting and you can't even get up," defensive end Tamba Hali said. "You have to wait in the locker room at least for an hour to recover, because you can hardly walk."

"When I was there," said former Penn State wide receiver Bobby Engram, now with the Seattle Seahawks, "they would just strategically place trash cans around the weight room. They knew everybody was going to hurl sooner or later with the type of training we did. They would play, 'Another One Bites the Dust,' for, like, 12 hours straight."

Penn State players lift twice a week -- usually on Mondays and Thursdays, though that schedule is flexible. The twice-a-week sessions, for those who will see playing time on Saturdays, is standard among Big Ten football teams.

Of course, time alone does not create results, because time needs effort and effort needs technique. And even with all the variables, it's hard, or even impossible, to measure the effectiveness of a team's strength program. Still, Penn State critics can find easy ammunition. Last week against Minnesota, the Lions surrendered 288 rushing yards. They gained just 21. In the battle between the lines, Penn State's performance was decidedly weaker.

But the difference made by a strength program, coaches say, is never that noticeable. Even the best strength programs make only a modest difference, said several Big Ten strength coaches contacted for this story. And Thomas' program, in this case, doesn't deserve blame for Penn State's recent struggles.

"John Thomas and I have different philosophies," Ohio State strength coach Allan Johnson said. "But JT is very respected in the strength and conditioning world. Whether his team goes 11-0 or 0-11, my respect for his program would never deviate. I think he does a great job.

"Once you get those players onto campus, you can make them stronger, and you can, hopefully, instill in them a stronger work ethic. But you need a foundation of talent."

Said Wisconsin strength coach John Dettmann: "We played them a couple years ago, when they had Jimmy Kennedy on the line, and that was about as physical a football team as I've ever seen. That's a quality strength program. When you lose, people start saying there's something wrong. Well, maybe there isn't something wrong."

*

So you're straight out of West Point, and it's 1977. You were raised a traditional weight lifter, Olympic style and all, and you've heard the familiar belief that free weights work better than machines for building muscle bulk. Years later, you'll call it an "absolute myth."

When Dan Riley, now with the Texans, arrived from West Point to work at Penn State, he had no intention of becoming the godfather of high-intensity training, a man who would later spur a legion of disciples. It happened by circumstance. As the newly hired strength coach, he simply gazed around at Penn State's facilities, saw two lines of Nautilus equipment stuffed into the corner of a players' lounge and went to work with what he had.

Almost immediately, Riley became the lone college strength coach to use machine-reliant methods. But he saw results. Players suffered fewer injuries. Workouts challenged the entire body. And his players, encouraged to work quickly and with maximum effort, developed a mental toughness, something that Thomas hopes for even today.

"Our goal is not to make them sick," Thomas said, "but to learn how to mentally and physically push themselves to the limit. The body can do amazing things if you don't stop yourself mentally."

Strength coaches fancy themselves members in a subterranean society, and they identify themselves, as one Division I conditioning coach said, as "guys who make people stronger and that's it."

Thomas chooses not to do interviews during the season -- though, for this story, he agreed to answer several questions via e-mail.

Men like Thomas embrace their fundamental purpose: to improve a team's strength, and possibly its work ethic. The philosophies for doing this differ, but most strength coaches acknowledge the differences in player strength, from school to school, is almost indistinguishable.

"If a player is getting knocked on his rear," Riley said, "it's tough for him to admit something like this, so that's why you never hear it. That's why people point fingers elsewhere. But sometimes, it's true, and an athlete just has to admit it: 'I'm not as genetically gifted as the guy across from me.' "

First Published: October 8, 2004, 4:00 a.m.