I won’t harp on the issue too much, since it’s been scrutinized and beaten every way possible, but I wanted to offer my two cents about the whole Penn State/Paterno/Sandusky nightmare that came to a conclusion last week when the NCAA penalized Penn State significantly for its involvement in the situation.
First, let me say that the punishment was fair. I agreed with it. PSU is looking at a four-year ban from bowl games, was fined $73 million dollars total ($60 million by the NCAA; $13 million by the Big 12 when it announced the football program could not compete in championship games or receive any of the financial split between league members), and vacated all wins from 1998-2011. The last component was, yes, important, contrary to many’s thinking, since it was Joe Paterno’s legacy, as well as the program’s, that was protected at all costs in this whole thing. The vacation of wins knocks Paterno off the top of the ladder as owner of the most wins in college football.
Second, I hope we can all stop talking about Penn State football. Football is grossly irrelevant in this case. This is a matter of a heinous crime, committed by an assistant coach and aided by Paterno – two sporting gods trusted and beloved by so many. The crime itself, and how we can further prevent child sex abuse and the monetary support that will be directed to programs that aide those victims , is No. 1. No. 2 is the fact that trust is at the centerpiece of this. Just as those kids trusted Jerry Sandusky, and just how others trusted Paterno and his response when he found out Sandusky was sexually assaulting kids, how are we supposed to expect young kids to trust coaches today? How do we as parents or guardians fully lend our trust toward a coach or administrator and expect them to truly have our kids’ best interests at heart? Where do we go from here?
The essence of sport, even more so than wins or losses, is the bond we develop between teammates and coaches. For many young athletes, from the day they can pick up a ball, they spend a great amount of time under the care of their coach. Generally, we’d think to never second guess the concept. We meet with the coach, we’ll talk with them, we get to know them. Perhaps we invite them over for dinner or hit up a ballgame with them. We feel comfortable in their presence, so, naturally, we let our guard down a bit. Or a lot. We begin to see them as another selfless caretaker for our child, and when our kid refers to the coach as a “second father,” we don’t even blink. We even understand it.
But this whole Penn State debacle has only proven once again that we never, ever, truly, really know someone. We just don’t. We don’t know what an individual is capable of, whether it’s our mother, brother, son, friend, or, yes, coach. We tell ourselves we do, but who are we kidding? Sandusky founded an organization in 1977, “The Second Mile”, that was a children’s charity that provided care for foster children. He was one of the most respected defensive coordinators to boot. His name, like Paterno’s, was angelic around Happy Valley. And yet when he was found guilty on 45 of 48 charges against him, including eight counts of involuntary deviate sexual intercourse with minors, many of his victims came from that same “Second Mile” franchise he had built. But how was anyone supposed to know? That’s why Paterno deserves so much scorn sent his way. Only he knew. Only he, within the parameters of the university, could stop it, and he chose not to.
It is a scary proposition, this idea that the best friend or coach or parental figure that we know today could be someone entirely different. And what’s more, I’m not sure there is a way to be more aware or conscious of that. We can’t be with someone 24/7. As human beings, we (most of us, anyway) have a propensity to trust, to give our fellow human being the benefit of the doubt. Especially if that someone plies his professional career in a field like coaching, which embraces discipline, responsibility, accountability, teamwork, unselfishness. What are we to do? Sure, for every 1 Sandusky there are 300, 400 others who truly care for others and would do whatever possible to see young kids succeed and fulfill their dreams. But the bottom line remains that there is that 1 guy. There is a possibility. In sports, we’re coached to gameplan for everything that can go wrong. We’re taught to have a plan B and C, and then to have a counter should those be unavailable. But how do we gameplan for misguided trust? Even more so, what are we to do when those “players” are precious kids, who are only more impressionable and giving of their heart the younger they are?
I really don’t know what to think or even what to make out of the Penn State stuff. I’m a bit shell-shocked, to be honest. The past 7-8 months have been a blur of disgust, discomfort, anger, tragedy, you name it. It’s all come so fast, that I really haven’t gone too deep beyond the basics to really tear this thing apart. I don’t know if I even want to. It’s maddening. But I do know that in sports, trust is something you don’t play around with. So what happens now? Perhaps there is nothing to be done. Optimistically, we can look at Sandusky as more of a rogue figure. Either way, it’s unsettling. It’s disturbing. It’s an issue that, in my opinion, should at the least be approached, be given some thought. Even if these were disadvantaged kids Sandusky dealt with, that still does not mean it can’t happen to anyone else. I wish I had an answer, but I don’t.
I just know that I’ve been told so many times, over and over, is so very true: No one is as they appear to be.
Silva On Sports 