Say it ain't so, Joe

When I first heard the news of Joe Paterno’s failure to do more to protect the kids in the case of Jerry Sandusky’s alleged crime, my first thought was, “Say it ain’t so, Joe”---the line the little boy supposedly spoke to baseball legend Shoeless Joe Jackson as he walked down the steps of the courthouse after appearing before a grand jury for allegedly fixing the 1919 World Series.

Conspiring to throw a ball game for money, the accusation---never proven--- made to Jackson and seven of his teammates, may be shameful and tragic, but not doing more to stop a man who allegedly raped a 10 year old boy in a locker room shower is not just shameful and tragic, it’s horrifying and disgusting.

The salaciousness of it, the manner in which it was overlooked, and the little ones who could have been saved from molestation---all this stunned a university and a nation.

Say it ain’t so, Joe.

But unfortunately, it is so: "This is a tragedy," Paterno said. "It is one of the great sorrows of my life. With the benefit of hindsight, I wish I had done more."

Why didn’t he? Why did a man who built what he called the “Grand Experiment,”--- combining a championship football program with academic excellence---a man who built a career on the qualities of character and integrity and sought to instill those characteristics in his players--- why, why didn’t he do more?

The institution---in this case Penn State football---became bigger than life and in this instance protecting its life caused a terrible lapse in judgment. Paterno did what was legally required; he didn’t do what was morally right. He shuffled the problem down the hall to the next administrative level and went back to work, recruiting, coaching, and winning. Success can be intoxicating, causing the best of people to rationalize or ignore wrong.

The success of an institution is never worth endangering the lives of children.

The comparison to what happened in the Roman Catholic Church can’t be missed: Jonathan Mahler observed in The New York Times, "The parallels are too striking to ignore. A suspected predator who exploits his position to take advantage of his young charges. The trusting colleagues who don't want to believe it -- and so don't."

And so a pristine image is tarnished, an icon is shattered, a legend has fallen.

Previous to this terrible episode, Paterno spoke on ESPN of his legacy: “You coach when you’re young to prove that you can do the job, and then there comes a point when you’ve got a family and you need to make a certain amount of dollars, and then there comes a point when the money’s got nothing to do with it. It comes to a point where you say to yourself: ‘What are you going to leave?’”

No one ever thought Joe Paterno would leave a mess behind him.

He has been condemned, and rightly so, for what he didn’t do. But Paterno’s life is not over. We should remember the words of historian James Anthony Froude, “The worth of a man must be measured by his life, not by his failure under a singular and peculiar trial.”

Healing starts where last week’s football game began: with the Penn State and Nebraska players kneeling together at midfield and praying for the victims in this tragedy. Remembering them will hopefully help prevent the further exploitation of children.

Joe will never be able to say it ain’t so; his honor is tarnished. But perhaps in time he can find a way to speak words of healing and maybe remind those who loved him that despite his own failure of integrity, his team’s motto, “success with honor,” is still possible for leaders and followers. Indeed, this horrendous episode can underscore the need for constant vigilance in protecting the honor in all individuals, especially the weak and vulnerable.

Maybe someday Joe will have a voice again, but he will always walk with a painful limp as he tells the sad story.


David B. Whitlock. Ph.D. is Pastor at Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon Ky. He also teaches as an adjunct instructor at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. Contact David at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com.