There is something Shakespearean in the way the Joe Paterno story is playing out: a beloved hero for decades, tainted by a tragic flaw at the very end of his life. And what was his tragic flaw? A loyalty to an ideal? A loyalty so overblown that he was willing to cover up for a heinous villain in order to protect his kingdom? That death follows so soon after his downfall only compounds the ambiguity. How do you mourn somebody that you so recently castigated?
The reactions run the gamut. There are those who feel he was not at all to blame in the Sandusky scandal and therefore should be ushered into death as the same infallible leader of men he was known as in life. Then there are those who feel that protecting a molester is no different from being a molester and that Paterno’s negligence undid his entire body of work. And then there is the majority in the vast expanse between those extremes, those who can’t unravel these conflicting narratives so simply. Paterno affected hundreds if not thousands of people in a positive way, an almost immeasurable influence of good will. On the other hand, he also appeared to know that somebody was using his program as a means to harm young boys.
My guess is that his mind-set was so antiquated that he honestly believed that it was best not to cause any uproar and to move forward, the same kind of antiquated thinking that has led to so many abuse cases in so many places. Joe Paterno, 85 and living in his own protective shell, probably didn’t even know that whistle-blowing is considered the right thing to do these days.
For these kinds of tragic flaws, at least in Shakespeare, death is usually the endgame, and it's usually by the sword — Macbeth, Hamlet, (spoiler alert) Coriolanus. But let’s not forget King Lear, who died of grief, perhaps caused by his own grievous failings. That point was made this morning on ESPN, however ham-handedly, by Todd Blackledge, a college football broadcaster and a former Penn State player, who said that a broken heart — caused by the treatment from media and the PSU trustees — literally was “as much a part” of Paterno’s death as was lung cancer. I was so stunned to hear such a childish assignment of blame that I had to watch the SportsCenter replay just to make sure I didn’t mishear him. I didn’t. He basically said the media and the PSU trustees killed Paterno.
That leap of logic aside, I do agree that Paterno’s will to live was very likely weakened by the unfolding events and the inglorious end to his career. But that’s nobody’s fault but his.
I’m not going to jeer a man upon his death, nor am I going to whitewash history out of sympathy. Let’s let Joe Paterno rest in peace. When the lights go on in the theater, it’s the audience that is left to wrestle with the complicated tragedy left behind.
The reactions run the gamut. There are those who feel he was not at all to blame in the Sandusky scandal and therefore should be ushered into death as the same infallible leader of men he was known as in life. Then there are those who feel that protecting a molester is no different from being a molester and that Paterno’s negligence undid his entire body of work. And then there is the majority in the vast expanse between those extremes, those who can’t unravel these conflicting narratives so simply. Paterno affected hundreds if not thousands of people in a positive way, an almost immeasurable influence of good will. On the other hand, he also appeared to know that somebody was using his program as a means to harm young boys.
My guess is that his mind-set was so antiquated that he honestly believed that it was best not to cause any uproar and to move forward, the same kind of antiquated thinking that has led to so many abuse cases in so many places. Joe Paterno, 85 and living in his own protective shell, probably didn’t even know that whistle-blowing is considered the right thing to do these days.
For these kinds of tragic flaws, at least in Shakespeare, death is usually the endgame, and it's usually by the sword — Macbeth, Hamlet, (spoiler alert) Coriolanus. But let’s not forget King Lear, who died of grief, perhaps caused by his own grievous failings. That point was made this morning on ESPN, however ham-handedly, by Todd Blackledge, a college football broadcaster and a former Penn State player, who said that a broken heart — caused by the treatment from media and the PSU trustees — literally was “as much a part” of Paterno’s death as was lung cancer. I was so stunned to hear such a childish assignment of blame that I had to watch the SportsCenter replay just to make sure I didn’t mishear him. I didn’t. He basically said the media and the PSU trustees killed Paterno.
That leap of logic aside, I do agree that Paterno’s will to live was very likely weakened by the unfolding events and the inglorious end to his career. But that’s nobody’s fault but his.
I’m not going to jeer a man upon his death, nor am I going to whitewash history out of sympathy. Let’s let Joe Paterno rest in peace. When the lights go on in the theater, it’s the audience that is left to wrestle with the complicated tragedy left behind.
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