Joe Paterno, 1926-2012

Like most middle-aged college football fans, I have spent my entire life watching Joe Paterno's Penn State teams. He coached his first game at Happy Valley on September 17, 1966 when I was about six months old (Penn State beat Maryland 15-7), and he coached his last game on October 29, 2011 -- 45 years later (Penn State beat Illinois 10-7). Even though I was never a Penn State fan, and never had a particular interest in Penn State, I probably watched over 100 games coached by Paterno. I heard all the stories about his life, his commitment to academics, his relationships with his players, his close-knit family, and so on and so on. College football is a community of its own, and ever since I can remember, Paterno was one of the biggest stars in that community.

For the first 20 years or so of his career at Penn State, Paterno may have been the best college football coach in America. His teams went undefeated in 1968, 1969, 1973, and 1986. They won the AP national championship in 1982 and 1986, and finished in the top 5 in 1968, 1969, 1971, 1973, 1977, 1978, 1981, and 1985. Between 1966 and 1986, Penn State went 12-5-1 in Bowl Games, and two of those losses were to teams that won the national championship. As an SEC fan, I knew Paterno's teams to play hard-hitting, mistake-free, clean but boring football. Penn State's upset Fiesta Bowl victory over Jimmy Johnson and a loaded Miami of Florida team to win the 1986 championship was one of the greatest coaching performances I ever saw.

But the media was never just interested in Paterno as a football coach. He came into college football at a time when the game had largely died out in the Northeast, when more people were questioning why colleges even played big-time football, and at a time of great cultural and political upheaval. Paterno was perfectly suited for this time period. He was intelligent and well-spoken; he said (and apparently did) all the right things with respect to academics and building character; and yet his teams were just as good on the field as the Oklahoma's, Nebraska's and Alabama's. For decades, whenever a national columnist wanted to take shots at schools that cheated, or fan bases who cared only about winning, or coaches engaged in corruption, Joe Paterno was the shining example held up to the rest of us.

And so, even though his teams weren't quite as good after 1986, a lot of people were very happy to know that "Joe Pa" was still on the sidelines. By this point, ironically, the man who began his career during one of the most tumultuous and controversial periods in American history had become a symbol of a happier, more innocent time. Penn State was no longer the power it had once been -- somewhere along the way Paterno lost the edge that separates the absolute greatest coaches from those in the second tier -- but his teams still wore those classic uniforms, the fans still poured into Happy Valley, and Penn State still won a lot of games. As late as 2005, Penn State went 11-1, won the Orange Bowl, and finished number 3 in the country. In 2008, they won the Big 10 and went to the Rose Bowl. In his last ten seasons -- including the first nine games of this year, before he was let go -- Paterno's teams went 82-40, which is very respectable.

Of course, I could remember when Penn State had been dominant -- not merely respectable -- and it was always odd to my Southern populist mind that Penn State had turned its once-mighty football program into a monument to one man. I come from Kentucky, where Adolph Rupp was forced out the door after the 1971-72 season, and I had not been surprised when an outraged Florida State fan base shoved out the same Bobby Bowden who had built their program almost from scratch. There is a ruthlessness in the Southern character -- as well as a mistrust of authority -- that encourages fans to rise up in rebellion against even a nobel and charming coach who no longer delivers the results. Just ask Tubby Smith.

But Pennsylvanians in general, and Penn State fans in particular, are apparently much more sentimental and loyal. They didn't judge Joe on wins and losses; instead, they treated him like a beloved king who symbolized both their great past and their noble character. Sure they might lose to Ohio State (who, as it turned out, was cheating), and they might no longer be able to compete with the all-powerful SEC teams for national titles, but there would be time to deal with that later. For now, their attitude seemed to be, they were giving back to Joe Pa for all that he had given to them.

As for Joe, he still had a lot to play for. He had finally outlasted Bobby Bowden to become the winningest D-1 coach in history, and this year he was trying to surpass Eddie Robinson's 408 career victories. In the very last game he ever coached, he surpassed Robinson to run his record to 409-136-3. My guess is he will hold that record for a very long time.

But then it all ended in tears. I have very little knowledge of, and not a great deal of interest in, the scandal that ended Paterno's career. What I find fascinating is that his problems all resulted from the same sentimentality and loyalty from which he had benefited so much. If he had been forced out ten years ago by a more ruthless fan base, his reputation today would be spotless. If he hadn't been built up as such a moral hero by so many national writers, the criticism he has received in recent months would be a lot less bitter and vindictive.

It is all very, very sad -- and somewhat misleading. We are all born into the middle of history, we all die before we can see how it really turns out, and then future generations study our lives in an attempt to deal with issues we cannot foresee. All we can ask is that they try to look at our lives as a whole, that they try to look at things from our perspective, and that they try to give us the benefit of the doubt.

I hope that happens for Joe Paterno. From 1966 until November 2011, Paterno probably received more acclaim -- and less criticism -- than almost any other figure in American public life, and it may not be possible for his reputation ever to return to the incredible heights it once reached. But I hope and believe he will be remembered more for what he did in the first 80 years of his life than for any scandals that arose in the last few.