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February 02, 2012
Joe Paterno's (Tainted) Legacy
The lives they touched, the people they motivated and the preservation of their lessons that extend throughout the years have measured great leaders in American history. For Joe Paterno, the impact is immeasurable, as the people he connected with extends far beyond the players he coached at Penn State for 62 years, the last 46 of which as the head football coach. Paterno always appeared a giant among men in both the school’s greatest moments and, sadly, its worst. Last Sunday at a hospital in Pennsylvania, Joe Paterno passed away as a result of his recently diagnosed lung cancer, and possibly the fallout of a horrific sex scandal that cost him his job, and seemingly more concrete, trademark vigor and established name. He was 85 years old. Paterno’s passing certainly comes with deep sorrow, but also a complicated uncertainty. After all that has occurred in the past three months, how do the American people choose to remember such a significant icon? The consistently basic messages of honor, education and ethics that were preached and lived out as close to ideal as possible was rattled Nov. 5, 2011, when a grand jury indicted Jerry Sandusky, Paterno’s former defensive coordinator, on multiple counts of child sexual abuse. Many saw Paterno, including Penn State’s Board of Trustees, as someone who could have, and should, have done more to halt Sandusky. Very shortly after, Paterno was fired from the program and removed from the school to which he’d become synonymous. Now, two months later, he’s permanently gone – a bitter ending for an American hero. The late leader was the most winningest college football coach of all time, boasting a 409-136-3 record. This includes national titles in 1982 and 1986 and four undefeated seasons, two consecutively in 1968 and 1969. He abridged the college football culture of past and present from a simpler time to the cutthroat business college football that reigns supreme today. Serving as both a progressive force with his belief in players’ rights, a playoff system and advancements in television, and a stubborn traditionalist most easily seen in his refusal to alter the nationally acknowledged Penn State uniforms. Paterno was this singular figure offering simple lessons. He was the foundation of the Penn State program. He was the constant of college football as a whole. He even seemed to be the conscience with his “winning with integrity” mantra. He was JoePa, a fatherly figure to not just the players, Penn State students or even his Nittany Lions football fans, but to Americans everywhere. Selflessly, he gave millions of dollars back to the school and raised millions more at speaking engagements across the country. He also encouraged alumni to take pride in their university, something unusual for many state schools in the east. Yet he was just this guy out of Brooklyn, with a thick set of glasses and accent. He was both humble and personable. It seemed, for anyone and all, that he provided perspective amid the crises slowly infiltrating the college football world. No, the full truth does not end there. No, he was not perfect; he was not without fault or selfishness. He was close enough to make some believe he was. In his final days, his success stories quickly crumbled to disdain. The Sandusky scandal had reached the unthinkable in the form of Paterno’s morality. It sucked life from a place no opponent ever could before. He attempted to explain his actions, rather his lack thereof – how he hadn’t done more to stop Sandusky or follow up the situation with university administrators. “I didn’t exactly know how to handle it … I backed away and turned it over to some other people, people I thought would have a little more expertise than I did. It didn’t work out that way,” said Paterno. For some there is no suitable explanation. Boys were abused, the mistake too grave for excuses. This case will forever be the object of criticism in the battle over Joe Paterno’s legacy. A life of special impact, bedrock values and multiple generations’ symbol of living life to its fullest. The Sandusky case no doubt destroyed that for some, ending it abruptly. Paterno’s full body of history reveals that he reached too many, inspired too many for it to be destroyed for all. For years and seasons, decades and generations, those that drew from his teachings will continue to pass them on as his undying legacy. No, his worst day can’t be forgotten, but neither can all the beautiful ones that surrounded it.
Christian is a sophomore studying communications. You may contact him at cbersani@sas.upenn.edu.
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