This week, college football lost their godfather. Joe Paterno died of lung cancer, likely complicated by the loss of purpose and drive that accompanied the loss of his job as Penn State. Oops, that’s Penn State head football coach.
Lots has been said about Joe Paterno, good, bad and otherwise, since he set the Division I win record back in late October, followed by the breaking of the sordid Sandusky scandal. I have nothing new to add.
My heart broke a bit when Joe was fired, simply because of the respect I’ve had for he and his program. But I was also incredibly suspicious of the timing of the breaking of the scandal. Conveniently right after he got win #409 (against my faltering Illini).
And the media has forced themselves into appearing schizo, lauding the winningest coach, decrying the scandal and all attached, and then trying to figure out how to honor this guy. That’s been fascinating to watch.
But let’s look at Penn State. Joe made the university relevant as a football program and a land grant institution. He ran the football program, and, to some degree, the whole school. He was a mob boss/players coach, always trying to do what was best for his football program, with the unquestioned assumption that the best included him in charge.
He was old school. Iconic. Crusty. Driven. Loyal. Accessible. Untouchable. Not a great sideline interview. But amazing in a sit-down setting if he decided he was ready to talk.
He was human. I’m sure he made countless mistakes besides those that lost games and didn’t make sure the Sandusky allegations were properly addressed. Any father of 5 would make plenty. But for a larger-than-life figure like Joe, it’s hard for us to accept that he made mistakes.
He was from an older generation, one that is incredibly uncomfortable talking about sex, let alone child abuse. That doesn’t excuse him, but it’s important for those of us who are (rightfully) outraged that something wasn’t done sooner to realize that what is obvious to us wasn’t so obvious to him.
Paterno was into protecting his program as a whole and getting the most out of his players. That meant that he promoted solidarity and preferred handling discpline himself. He liked to be in control and avoid locker room disputes. He wasn’t into doing everything by the book.
His results speak for themselves. Wins. Losses. NFL players. College graduates. And those who didn’t make wise choices. The outcry over not doing enough. And the outpouring of support that accompanied his death.
He was larger than life. And as fallible as anyone. And definitely one-of-a-kind. Rest in peace, JoePa.
Posted by TheCleverOne