He’s an old man now and the years, at last, are catching up to him. He’s sick, injured and deposed. But not broken. Never broken. Though the roar has been reduced to a frail whisper, he still fights to reclaim the reputation and respect stolen from him by the alleged crimes of one and the cowardly acts of others.
The old lion is down but not out.
I’ve been a Penn State fan most of my life. I studied journalism at University Park, attended football games and met lifelong friends there. In recent years it has been my pleasure to serve in a volunteer capacity at the Lehigh Valley campus, working with some wonderful people led by a chancellor who epitomizes all of the things we admire about Penn State.
But in truth, I have actually always been just a Joe Paterno fan. I admire Paterno for his values and principles. He taught us all over the past 45 years that you can win at athletics while succeeding in academics. He preached that modesty, playing by the rules and determination could overcome any obstacle or opponent, and that staying true to one’s self was more important than victory at any cost.
More than two months after he was unceremoniously canned — by telephone — by trustees who refused to even face him, he has finally given his side of the story to The Washington Post. Yes, he said, Mike McQueery did come to him with reports of inappropriate conduct by former assistant coach Jerry Sandusky. No, he says, he really couldn’t comprehend what McQueery was telling him. (Trying to explain male rape to Joe Paterno is like trying to explain class and sportsmanship to DeSean Jackson – neither audience has anything in their life experience to provide a relevant reference for understanding the topic at hand.)
He says he knew nothing of previous allegations and investigations about Sandusky, and I believe him. This is a guy who has said repeatedly during his career that he didn’t golf, didn’t fish, had no hobbies but football. He has lived his life with an almost autistic fixation on family and football, and child molestation cases are typically handled in the most covert ways, so it’s hard to say who really knew anything about the 1998-99 local investigation into Sandusky’s actions.
He admits that he dithered a bit trying to decide how to proceed with McQueery’s report. Who wouldn’t? Seriously. Put yourself in Paterno’s chair. How would you react? We all like to think we would have jumped up and demanded justice, but human nature is human nature. To Paterno’s benefit, he decided to punt. He gave the ball to those he thought would know how to address the situation properly. Hey, he could have sat on the ball and let time run out. Who would have known? The fact remains that he is the only ranking official at Penn State who, when confronted with reports about Sandusky’s behavior, ran it up the chain of command for action.
In his usual way, the old lion says he maintains none of the bitterness that many others would righteously wrap around their shoulders like a mane. Indeed, the story reports that the Paternos recently donated another $100,000 to the university. His wife, Sue, roared loudly at the way her husband was treated. The female of the species is often the more dangerous, right?
Instead, he sits in his lair, the little Cape Cod on the north side of campus where he has lived for 45+ years, surrounded by what means most to him – his family, friends, a few trophies and the men he trained who know how much he meant to them and their lives. He’ll keep fighting. He knows no other way. But he won’t give in to the acrimony and resentment that many others would crave.
He has been above all for the last 60 years, a teacher. And we can still learn from him.
The Bulldog Edition 