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Parsing Paterno 1/27/2012
“The minute you think you’ve got it made, disaster is just around the corner.” It occurred to me while watching the memorial service for Penn State football coach Joe Paterno that he confounded me in death much as he did in life. My introduction to Joe and Penn State football came by watching the annual beat-down the Nittany Lions put on my beloved West Virginia Mountaineers. His record against us was downright demeaning. From 1966-83, years tracking my childhood to early adulthood, he never lost. By the time the series was over in 1992 Paterno was 25-2 against WVU. Like most Mountaineers, I count our scant two victories against Paterno and Penn State as two of the best days of my life. In spite of the humiliation, I could never bring myself to hate him. Yet there was every reason. I loved my Mountaineers because we were raucous hillbillies that raged and rebelled against a world stacked against us, more often than not coming away improbable winners. Paterno represented everything we were not. Ordered, proper, well-heeled aristocrats who looked down on us as while leveraging all the advantages of the well-born against us. I could not hate Paterno because the more I learned about the nerdy-looking guy in the high-water pants, the more evident it became there was much to respect. He was as concerned about the development of Penn State the academic institution as the football powerhouse. He gave generously to expand its library at the same time he expanded the football stadium. He was an active proponent of liberal arts programs. A genuine Renaissance man with a penchant for a sport that involves knocking teeth loose. How can you not like that? In an age in which top coaches insist on contract clauses that guarantee them the highest pay in the profession, Paterno lived in a humble home on campus and had a doting wife who loaned spatulas to students barbecuing on Sunday afternoons. Paterno was the perpetual font of virtue, freakishly free of foible. Hate on Joe and you hate on God, family and country. Disaster comes round the corner. What transpired in the last three months in the life of Paterno is as grotesque and perverse as it is shocking and improbable. The speed with which each development emerged deprived us of the time needed to sort it all out. The earth quaked with news that Paterno protege Jerry Sandusky was indicted on charges of serial child abuse. The aftershocks, no less stunning. Paterno knew. Paterno retires. Paterno fired. Paterno has cancer. Paterno dies. Small wonder this spawned fierce reaction. Students took to the streets and overturned a media truck. Nittany Nation circled the wagons to shelter their Dear Leader from blame as thousands of unaligned observers called for his head. Awards given in his honor were stripped of his name. A sterling legacy already written and awaiting the presses was unimaginably befouled. “I just did what I thought was best.” I am of the belief that the tragedy of child sexual abuse inflicted by “trusted” adults is far more prevalent than what is known or envisaged. And denial often serves to protect and perpetuate the predators. That belief is buttressed by a statement made by Paterno to the Washington Post’s Sally Jenkins in his final interview. The dying Paterno explained his bureaucratic response to hearing Sandusky was seen having sex with a child in the PSU football complex thusly: “I never heard of, of rape and a man. So I just did what I thought was best. I talked to people that I thought would be, if there was a problem, that would be following up on it.” I will go to my grave unconvinced that in his 85 years Paterno never learned that predators like Sandusky existed. And I will die convinced Paterno’s realization that his failure to put a stop to it is what killed him. The man who spent a lifetime preaching personal responsibility and never cowering from adversity had covered his ass and passed the buck when children’s lives were at stake. I believe his conscience ate him alive before the cancer could. Of course I have no way of knowing, but I choose to believe that there was enough good in Paterno that he would not be unhappy if people learn not only from his virtue, but from his great mistake. Never, ever be silent. Take action. Ed note: This article is cross-posted at EERNationB12 an excellent fan resource for Mountaineers and sports fans in general. “Teach Your Children.” Suzy Boggus and West Virginia’s own Kathy Mattea Archives of this section The Cup is Half-full (of pee) (12/23/2011) Copyright © Eyewitness Muse, All Rights Reserved
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