Free tattoos, lucrative deals with agents and free luxury SUV rentals are one thing. What's happening at Penn State is a completely different animal.
In a year in which program-rocking "improper benefit" scandals at Ohio State, North Carolina and Miami have shaken fans' faith in college football, Saturday's arrest of long-time Penn State assistant Jerry Sandusky for the sexual assault of eight young boys and of two high-ranking school officials for failing to properly report the transgressions has raised far more troubling questions about Penn State's program - and about its iconic coach, 84-year-old Joe Paterno.
For as much as we have opined about the hypocrisy of big-time programs or the NCAA's pettiness, these travesties pale in comparison to the dehumanizing act of sexually terrorizing young boys or the equally sickening act of knowing about it and covering for the perpetrator. And though prosecutors have maintained that Paterno is not a subject of the investigation, college football's all-time wins leader was abruptly dismissed from the helm for the Nittany Lions last night.
Paterno's already-sterling reputation had actually been improving in recent months as fans and pundits heaped praise on Penn State for staying squeaky clean in a sport rankled by cheating.\nFor more than half a century, Paterno has epitomized the consummate professional - a community hero who devoted himself wholeheartedly to winning without compromising his integrity or that of his university. He might not churn out national championships like Urban Meyer or Nick Saban, but if you were a parent of a star player, you wanted your kid to play for "Joe-Pa."
That mystique has dissipated in just a few short, nightmarish days. Even The Patriot News in Harrisburg, Pa. - the heart of Penn State country - ran a front-page editorial demanding that Paterno step down at the end of the season prior to yesterday's dismissal.
Now, strictly because of mounting outside pressure and not because of any new evidence of Paterno's direct involvement in a cover-up, the Penn State Board of Trustees terminated the face of their university's athletic program before the end of the season. And as repulsed as I am by the details surfacing about Sandusky's purported pedophilia, I feel uneasy about the poster child of dignity in college football since the Johnson administration losing his job because a lot of people jumped to a hasty verdict. The Penn State fiasco reflects an alarming truth about our society and its responses to scandals of this magnitude: Invariably, when a sports-related controversy emerges, the court of public opinion delivers its verdict well before any legal court.
Whether because of the disturbing nature of the crime, sheer resentment or a fusion of the two, athletes involved in sexual assault incidents have elicited particularly venomous reactions.
I clearly remember the public evisceration of Kobe Bryant in 2003 before his trial for sexual assault even began. While the charges eventually went away, the damage done did not. The allegation itself had lost Bryant many of his sponsorships and pegged him in popular consciousness as an egomaniacal vulture who thought he could get away with sexual assault because of his basketball skill.
Three years later, a young black woman accused white Duke lacrosse team members, Collin Finnerty, Reade Seligmann and David Evans, of rape and set off a powder keg of outrage and racial friction. Again, the ultimate acquittal of the three suspects arrived too late to repair the damage done to Durham's already tenuous race relations or the stigma of arrogance and immorality attributed to the school and to the players themselves.
Of course, Bryant and the Duke trio were the subjects of their investigations and clearly behaved reprehensibly, regardless of the courts' determinations. Paterno is not the primary culprit but merely the most prominent figure involved who failed to prevent the crime.
Still, the public reaction has been reminiscent of the other sex scandals. Jumping off from Paterno's refusal to initially contact police in 2002 after hearing from a witness of Sandusky's inappropriate contact with a young boy, many of those following the story have rapidly concluded that Paterno willfully ignored unspeakable crimes for the good of his football team.
Accurate or not, it is this perception that will likely lead to the demise of Paterno's reputation. Even before Paterno was granted a chance to tell his side of the story or substantial evidence of his misconduct arose, Paterno has already become a pariah in many eyes. Frankly, it saddens me that the face of a community and a man who has always exuded class has already fallen victim to the "condemn first, confirm facts later" mentality of the public.
Let me be clear: I am not defending Joe Paterno, and I find it admittedly difficult to believe that he was totally oblivious to what was going on. However, I caution against joining the crusade against the coach when we cannot yet know the extent of his involvement. If anything, the campaign to tar and feather Paterno has diverted public attention from where it should be: on the horrid allegations themselves and the welfare of the young victims. And that is one of the many true tragedies of this entire ordeal.
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