program.
In the immediate aftermath of the charges against Sandusky, Mr. Paterno
seemed not to grasp the seriousness of the matter, issuing a statement that
appeared to ignore the victims and then leading "We are . . . Penn State"
cheers on the lawn of his home, where a crowd had gathered.
His many supporters, meanwhile, saw it all differently. They blamed the
trustees. They wondered how a coach who had done so much for the school could
have been treated so callously, so hastily, and so harshly, especially since
he had already offered to step down at the end of the 2011 season.
The night of the firing, thousands of Penn State students took to the
streets of State College to protest the decision. Their reaction and the
shock, dismay, and round-the-clock media coverage the scandal had generated
was stark evidence of the prominence of Mr. Paterno, not just in his adopted
state but throughout the nation.
With his death, the lingering questions about what he knew, when he knew
it, and how he might have acted differently likely will remain unanswered.
The Grand Experiment
For all the accomplishments Mr. Paterno's teams piled up on the football
field, he was at least as well-known for an ethos he said was shaped by his
idealistic father and by Aeneas, the Greek hero of legend who inspired him as
a high-schooler.
Mr. Paterno's oft-cited Grand Experiment was a belief that football and
academics could coexist peacefully. He urged players to develop other
interests. He frequently criticized the sport's win-at-all-cost philosophy and
its increasing emphasis on money, and cemented his crusader's image by
rejecting several lucrative offers from NFL and college teams.
And yet he was not entirely "St. Joe," the sarcastic nickname given to
him by colleagues who found his penchant for preachiness sanctimonious.
He possessed a fierce competitive streak, a trait his brother would
characterize as "a maniacal need to be first." Mr. Paterno drove himself, his
assistants, and his players hard, and in doing so won more games than any
coach in Division I history.
Mr. Paterno had a sharp tongue and, particularly during the demanding
practices he conducted, could be hypercritical and dismissive of assistants
and players.
"He's a lot like your parents," said Charlie Pittman, a star halfback at
Penn State in the 1960s. "It's sometimes difficult to appreciate them until
you've grown and become a parent yourself."
As Mr. Paterno aged, he grew crankier, more confrontational with
reporters and referees. In 2002, Mr. Paterno chased referee Dick Honig
following a loss and grabbed him from behind.
By then, the bespectacled, Brooklyn-born coach was a legend, his
milestones so numerous and impressive that he was named to the College
Football Hall of Fame while still active, in 2006.
At Penn State since 1950, he had been the Nittany Lions' head coach since
succeeding Rip Engle in 1966, an almost unimaginable stretch of 548 games. He
produced countless all-Americans; future NFL stars; and, as he liked to point
out, scores of successful businessmen, lawyers, doctors, and even a concert
pianist.
After the Nittany Lions' 1982 national title, Mr. Paterno famously
lectured the trustees about the importance of capitalizing on the moment by
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Joe Paterno's Legendary Life Was Defined By Success, Ended with Link to Penn State Scandal
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