how joe paterno died

how joe paterno died

What to make of Joe Paterno’s death
By Sam Hofberg
January 25, 2012

Legendary Penn State ex-football coach Joe Paterno died this past Sunday of lung cancer at 85 years of age. It is a passing of a monumental figure, who had such a profound impact on countless lives, yet he leaves this world under circumstances that don’t negate, but skew the common perception of a man once loved by all.

Paterno had 409 career victories, an FBS record, and coached the Penn State Nittany Lions for 46 years, winning the national title in two of them. Equally impressive was Paterno’s reputation as one of the great, honorable men alive. He was a father figure to many of his players. There will, in all likelihood, never be a coach like Joe Paterno.

Now, if Paterno had passed with just that description to his name, we would all mourn and celebrate his storied life like we would with any other legend. But there is an element factored into our reaction that came into the Paterno picture late in the game, so to speak. Just months before his death, news broke of the whole Jerry Sandusky sexual abuse case, and Paterno was fired from his coaching post on the grounds that he didn’t do enough to prevent the despicable acts of Sandusky.

When I caught wind of Paterno’s death, I really wasn’t sure on how to react. And I can honestly say, that Joe Pa’s death was the first to ever to do this to me. Usually, when a person dies, I typically know if I should be pleased or saddened. Saddam Hussein— a terrible man, a deserved death. CBS journalist Andy Rooney—a lovable man adored by many; I was pained to see him go. Conversely, the death of Paterno threw me for a short loop. I was by no means pleased, but just how distraught should I have been?

Joe Paterno was a man so rich in virtue and good intentions, and was virtually flawless by every standard but one. The truth is, he could have, and should have done more to put an end to Sandusky’s horrendous crimes. So, for me at least, he will never be in the conversation of absolute saints. People can slip up and have faults, but unfortunately, the severity of Paterno’s mistake is too heavy to overlook.

I concluded to myself that when mourning the death of Joe Pa, I cannot be blinded by his mystique and name. But on the other hand, I cannot be so unforgiving. It is okay to treat Paterno’s life for what it was: flawed.

I am not trying to take away from Joe Pa’s accolades, accomplishments, or character qualities that were rich in integrity. It is okay to celebrate his great deeds and remember him for his impact on the Penn State community, but we cannot ignore a poor decision on Paterno’s part that will haunt his legacy forever. We must accept the good with the bad, and be careful to not assign him to one or the other.

He will forever be a figure that provokes controversy. Is he a hero with mortal vulnerability, or a villain masked by deserved admiration? That will be a perpetual question linked to the Paterno name, and that is fine. He brought that upon himself.