The JoePa-calypse

Something about our society is broken.

It sounds like a strong thing to say, and maybe it is.

But that was my reaction after watching a video replay of yesterday afternoon's scene on Joe Paterno's lawn as the coach was on his way to practice.

You had Paterno engulfed by a pack of media who wanted him to say something, anything.

You had a group of Penn State fans across the street start the chant as he climbed into his car.

Joe Pa-ter-no! ... clap, clap, clap-clap-clap.

You had Paterno's son left in the middle of the media swirl after his father left, saying there was nothing more to say.

You had media jackals yelling questions like: "How does he feel?!?!"

It was a sickening, sad portrait in so many ways ... and this was before an even more sickening, sadder portrait on Paterno's lawn last night when he returned from practice.

This should be a somber time for everyone in the Penn State community.

Everyone.

A supposed pillar of that community, a college football icon, is alleged to have raped a bunch of young boys. That icon's former boss is an even bigger icon, the most powerful man in the community. And that powerful man apparently exercised zero power when his good friend was allegedly discovered in one of these heinous, despicable acts.

Every single person in the community should be mourning the lives damaged and possibly ruined by a monster who was allowed to roam free despite evidence that should have put him behind bars before he was allowed to damage and possibly ruin other lives.

Yet there's a group of Penn State fans who are too excited about 8-1 to get too alarmed about these horrible acts and their head coach's apparent lack of determination to stop them.

"Beat Nebraska!!!!"

Shame on Paterno for embracing this rock-star treatment, for not trying to sober up these lunatics who don't want anything to ruin their season. It's one thing for people to show up and solemnly show their support for a legend, to give him the benefit of the doubt in the face of a tidal wave of questions about his actions and apparent inaction.

Here's what Paterno should've said in response to the pep rally on his lawn:

"I love you and I greatly appreciate your support. But people, please ... football games are not important right now. Horrible things happened to young boys inside our athletics facilities at Penn State, and right now we need to be thinking about these people."

People have always said college football is like a religion, and it's hard to disagree after witnessing these scenes. In fact, you could make a convincing argument that college football has replaced religion.

It'd be disingenuous of me to rail on all this without acknowledging the fact that my living is made off an obsession with big-time college football. If fans were indifferent to daily developments related to their heroes, I'd be flipping burgers or something.

It might also be disingenuous of us as a community to judge another community based on a presumption that the same disregard for decency, perspective and humanity could not befall our community.

But we worship our icons and institutions and become drunk enough off their success that we can lose perspective. A bubble existence develops, and many inhabitants of the bubble blindly rally to the support of those icons and institutions. And everyone outside the bubble recoils in horror.

There's still so much good about college athletics that's on display every single day, still so much to like and to love about the games and the traditions and the fans who support them.

But there's a dark, sad side to it. And nowhere is that more evident than in Happy Valley.

LW