I haven't always agreed with Joe Paterno, but I've respected and admired him, as most folks have. Always thought of him as an educator disguised as a college football professor. Well, OK, not all the time.
When I was a senior at Penn State in the late '70s, Joe practically ran me out of his office. As a journalism student, my choice of summer attire that day -- shorts, T-shirt, flip-flops -- offended Paterno's Ivy League sensibilities and taste.
"Jon, don't ever come in here dressed like that again," he warned.
I was dumbfounded. Dressed like what, I thought, a student?
He explained that I was not professionally dressed because, as he scolded, I was there to "do a job." I didn't like his grouchiness, but because I respected and feared him, I fumed privately. It was only later that I realized he was trying to instruct me in a broader context. It was a lesson worth learning.
In his half-century at the school, Joe has been a skilled teacher. Lately, however, I'm wondering if old JoePa couldn't use a lesson in responsibility, humility and, yes, decorum, as it regards his public feud with Big Ten officials. How would you like to be an honest, hard-working official and find a photograph in your newspaper of a referee hanging in effigy from Paterno's front door? It has since been removed.
Maybe Joe was trying to send a message. He does that, you know. I suppose a jealous Pitt fan could've planted it. Or even one of his own players. Maybe a grandchild made it for him for Halloween. Perhaps his wife, Sue, thought it was funny or cute. Who knows? We might've found out Tuesday, but Joe was moving faster than Larry Johnson.
"No comment," he said. "Let's not get into it."
At 74, he may be losing his patience more often, but I doubt he's losing his noodles, as some surmise. Still, part of what has made him a success could one day lead to his possible demise: He doesn't worry, or care, what others think. In a second teleconference call with reporters, Paterno repeated his non-answer: "I don't even want to get into that, for crying out loud. I mean the whole thing's getting ludicrous."
He is right, you know. The last thing we need to see is the figure of a referee with a noose around his neck hanging from a door knocker belonging to one of America's most respected and powerful coaches.
"I don't even know if I've got a door knocker," Paterno said. "I don't ever use the front door. I use the garage."
Think one of Joe's players could get away with that kind of flimsy rationalization?
At best, what has transpired is inappropriate. At worst, it sends the wrong message. It might even endanger Big Ten officials at Happy Valley. For if Joe can accost officials or shrug off eerie symbolism meant to taunt and intimidate them, imagine what some student or alumnus might want to do, particularly if fueled by spirits. It only takes one wing nut.
Joe owes an apology for such a crude message that does nothing but inflame an already incendiary situation.
Three times this season, against Iowa, Michigan and Ohio State, calls went against Penn State that had an impact on the outcomes. No need to rehash the details, but it's reasonable to suggest that the thrice-beaten, 16th-ranked Nittany Lions could be working on an unbeaten season, if only the black-and-white striped gods sprinkled a little fairy dust on them.
Bad calls are hardly a one-way street. Hasn't Penn State (and Paterno) benefited from them in the past, perhaps even because of reputation? You tell me. Have there ever been conflict-of-interest issues involving officials that worked in Penn State's possible favor? C'mon now.
Indeed, Joe's cause may be just and righteous. The Big Ten does seem to have a problem. But coaching is not a birthright, and even Paterno now finds himself being watched closely. His "sins" are not in the cardinal category of those committed by the late, cantankerous Woody Hayes (slugged a player) or the perennially irascible Bob Knight (too many transgressions to list). Joe's actions are troubling because they may portend something more ominous for a man who has taught so many so well.
Originally published Wednesday, November 13, 2002
