Joe Paterno had to be fired. There was no other way to move forward, at least not in a way that shows the world that Pennsylvania State University values its honor on equal footing with its successes. After everything that has happened in State College, PA, a new guard was needed, as justice deferred must be exacted swiftly and without remorse. Not that the old guard was not capable of cleansing the campus of the reprehensible fog of filthiness that has shrouded the school since the allegations against Jerry Sandusky arose. What coach, what leader and icon in a college community is better equipped to restore a culture of integrity and morality than Joe Paterno, the shining example of the idealized molder of young men, rather than just a football coach?
Joe Paterno never deserved to be fired, especially for moral oversight. Even a few days ago, that would have been inconceivable for the man who came to Penn State with the “Grand Experiment” to run a team with a stress on academics. He was a man from a different age, championing a now-foreign concept that big-time college sports can and should give back to the schools they represent, to be a true part of an academic institution rather than its loose athletic affiliate. With his 46th season as the PSU Nittany Lions’ head football coach coming to an untimely close, Paterno leaves with 409 wins, the most for any coach in NCAA football history, the second-highest graduation rate in NCAA Division I, and his head hung low in disgrace.
Even as the media clamor for Paterno’s exit had grown to a fervor by Wednesday night, it still seemed impossible that Joe Paterno, who has a statue of his likeness outside Beaver Stadium and is the namesake of the Paterno Library, could be told that he is no longer wanted at Penn State. But at around 10:15 p.m. EST, John Surma, vice chairman of the board of trustees, stepped to a podium and excised the man who had been the face of the university for decades. It was a decision universally called for, and universally reviled. No one wanted Joe Paterno to leave but no one could justify him staying either. Allowing him to stay would solve nothing, but showing him the door still felt filthy.
But we as sports fans, we as a nation, we as human beings, must let Joe Paterno be. The vigils on his doorstep, the riots against the trustees, the tears shed for the sullying of a great man’s soul, these are the reactions of the disempowered and the scared, and that fear and desperation will not solve anything. If we, not just the students of Penn State or the people in State College, but all of us, make this a story about Joe Paterno; we fail him, we fail ourselves, and we fail the very people we seek to protect.
This story is about the victims of Jerry Sandusky, former defensive coordinator for the Penn State Nittany Lions. It is about 40 charges related to the sexual abuse of minors. It is about 15 years, from 1994 to 2009, the time during which Sandusky is accused of preying on young boys in the State College community. It is about The Second Mile, a charity Sandusky founded to provide care for foster children, through which Penn State allowed him to continue using university facilities even after his retirement from coaching in 1999. But in the end, it is not even about Sandusky himself. It is about the eight boys who were abused, who society failed to protect, and who we must make amends with by making sure that nothing like this can ever happen again.
With that goal in mind, soberly uncomfortable but vitally necessary, Joe Paterno must go. In 2002, Graduate Assistant Mike McQueary informed him that he had seen Sandusky in the showers of the Penn State football complex sexually assaulting a ten-year-old boy, and Joe Paterno reported this to the university. That athletic director Tim Curley and university vice president Gary Schultz did not proceed to the proper authorities is on their heads, and each man now faces perjury charges. But Paterno himself did not talk to the police, and he did not talk to Sandusky. For all the good Paterno did for Penn State, on that day in 2002, he let his community down in an unforgivable way. His inaction was in no way criminal, but on moral grounds, justice had to be served.
Wednesday night has passed. An institution dismissed its architect, its Grand Experimenter. Rioters dominated the night in State College. A community mourned. Joe Paterno stood outside his house, alongside his wife, and thanked his beloved Penn State for all of the love and support. He asked that the students paying tribute at his house just off campus not stop their lives for him, and that everyone pray for the victims of this tragedy. Joe Paterno then turned around and went back inside, closing the door on State College.
The community inextricably linked with its moniker, Happy Valley, does not seem to warrant it right now. Maybe some day it will be that way again. But for now State College, Penn State, and we as human beings, must look back at what has happened here, and move forward.
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