Joe Paterno lived for football, in particular Penn State football.
That's why I was not terribly surprised that without it, he only last a few months.
That gives Paterno something in common with another legendary coach, Alabama's Bear Bryant, who died of a heart attack less than a month after stepping down as boss of the Crimson Tide.
Paterno led the Nittany Lions program for more than half a century. Along the way, he became the winningest Division I college football coach in the land.
In many ways, Paterno was Penn State. He was larger than life, but he was not larger than the problems we all encounter along the way.
After 61 years at Penn State, Paterno was summarily sacked by the Board of Trustees in the fallout from the ugly child sexual-abuse scandal surrounding his former defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky.
Now we are left to ponder his legacy, as a great man, a great Pennsylvanian and a superior coach.
For a man who accomplished so much, I am still taken aback by his own words in the wake of the scandal that brought him down.
“I should have done more.”
That was Paterno’s own assessment of his actions after he reported to his superiors allegations against Sandusky that were brought to him by a graduate assistant.
“I should have done more.”
In listening to person after person who spoke of him yesterday in the hours after his passing, I am left with the same impression I’ve had of this sad ending since the story first broke.
Those who knew him, coached with or against him, played for him, or worshipped him as an alum, all talked about what he meant to them. He was a molder of men, not just football players. His concern for them, and his love of all things Penn State, made Paterno a legendary figure. He put the Happy in Happy Valley.
But his ending, and the way he parted ways with the school he loved, and to which he gave so much, was anything but happy.
I agree with those who believe he deserved better than a late-night phone call from a trustee to inform him that he was no longer the head coach of Penn State.
But it is all those same comments, all the praise, all the knowledge of what he meant to Penn State, that lead me back to the same thing I’ve wondered now for months.
How could he not know? And how could he not have done more? Paterno did what he was supposed to do. He reported the incident to his superiors.
But that's part of the problem. That's not what we expect of Joe Paterno. We expect so much more.
The truth is I have never been a big Penn State fan. But I’ve always admired Joe Paterno.
I still do.
The single image I will carry with me is that of Paterno in those rumpled khaki slacks, rolled up to his ankles, white socks and black coach’s shoes leading the Nittany Lions out onto the field.
Some today are saying Paterno died of a broken heart. His health deteriorated quickly after his dismissal. And he lost a final battle with lung cancer.
Happy Valley’s heart is certainly broken, as fans come to grips both with the loss of the legendary coach, and how exactly his legacy will be remembered how that it has been scarred by the ugly Sandusky affair.
It is an impossible question to answer, and maybe an unfair one.
This is not the ending we reserve for legends. In the end, Paterno proved to be just that. And something else.
Human.
And a damn good one at that.
That's why I was not terribly surprised that without it, he only last a few months.
That gives Paterno something in common with another legendary coach, Alabama's Bear Bryant, who died of a heart attack less than a month after stepping down as boss of the Crimson Tide.
Paterno led the Nittany Lions program for more than half a century. Along the way, he became the winningest Division I college football coach in the land.
In many ways, Paterno was Penn State. He was larger than life, but he was not larger than the problems we all encounter along the way.
After 61 years at Penn State, Paterno was summarily sacked by the Board of Trustees in the fallout from the ugly child sexual-abuse scandal surrounding his former defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky.
Now we are left to ponder his legacy, as a great man, a great Pennsylvanian and a superior coach.
For a man who accomplished so much, I am still taken aback by his own words in the wake of the scandal that brought him down.
“I should have done more.”
That was Paterno’s own assessment of his actions after he reported to his superiors allegations against Sandusky that were brought to him by a graduate assistant.
“I should have done more.”
In listening to person after person who spoke of him yesterday in the hours after his passing, I am left with the same impression I’ve had of this sad ending since the story first broke.
Those who knew him, coached with or against him, played for him, or worshipped him as an alum, all talked about what he meant to them. He was a molder of men, not just football players. His concern for them, and his love of all things Penn State, made Paterno a legendary figure. He put the Happy in Happy Valley.
But his ending, and the way he parted ways with the school he loved, and to which he gave so much, was anything but happy.
I agree with those who believe he deserved better than a late-night phone call from a trustee to inform him that he was no longer the head coach of Penn State.
But it is all those same comments, all the praise, all the knowledge of what he meant to Penn State, that lead me back to the same thing I’ve wondered now for months.
How could he not know? And how could he not have done more? Paterno did what he was supposed to do. He reported the incident to his superiors.
But that's part of the problem. That's not what we expect of Joe Paterno. We expect so much more.
The truth is I have never been a big Penn State fan. But I’ve always admired Joe Paterno.
I still do.
The single image I will carry with me is that of Paterno in those rumpled khaki slacks, rolled up to his ankles, white socks and black coach’s shoes leading the Nittany Lions out onto the field.
Some today are saying Paterno died of a broken heart. His health deteriorated quickly after his dismissal. And he lost a final battle with lung cancer.
Happy Valley’s heart is certainly broken, as fans come to grips both with the loss of the legendary coach, and how exactly his legacy will be remembered how that it has been scarred by the ugly Sandusky affair.
It is an impossible question to answer, and maybe an unfair one.
This is not the ending we reserve for legends. In the end, Paterno proved to be just that. And something else.
Human.
And a damn good one at that.
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