This Is About A Lot More Than Football, Kids...

Joe Pa supposedly spent a life encouraging people, demanding the best from them. This is what the great coaches do, right? The motivator, the one who gets the results, the championships. The one for whom kids dream of playing.

I saw lots of this when I was an undergrad at Nebraska. Tom Osbourne was heading out and it was really amazing to watch the way students stood in reverence of him. I had the chance to meet him when I worked with the summer conference program and I found him to be a calm, warm person. I’m sure a few players witnessed a different side over the years, but since I was also someone who had been in the position of being coached, I had also been in the position of being yelled at by coaches.

The only reason I came into contact with Coach Osbourne was that he stopped by the registration area when we were checking in kids for the football camps. And the high school athletes were starstuck by him. It wasn’t the awe with which my fellow students spoke of him, but rather the cheese-out moment of seeing someone you truly admire, like when I had a convo with Dave Eggers.

The admiration of the kids was earned. They believed in the story, the magic, the tradition. They got to meet the legend and just maybe the legend would be impressed with how they worked at camp. Maybe someday they would be part of the program. I’m sure this scene played out at the big football schools all over the county, whether it was Ohio State, USC, Alabama, or Penn State.

Oh Penn State. What a firestorm you find yourself embroiled in now. The media reports of the students supporting Paterno and rioting at the announcement of his firing made me sick to my stomach. I understand that he was your hero. I get it. I’m sure some of you decided to attend the University because you wanted to be a part of the game day traditions. You could get an education many places, but being part of that football tradition was special, maybe almost sacred to you.

Time to re-evaluate what’s sacred.

I’m usually not the one to get all Nancy Grace when it comes to criminal matters, but this one got me. The NY Times website posted the grand jury transcripts from Jerry Sandusky’s indictment. For the sake of my mental health, I can’t read those right now. When morality gets tossed out the window for the sake of winning or tradition, it’s time to change.

Rick Reilly at ESPN.com wrote an excellent commentary on the 2nd of November regarding these allegations. “If these boys were molested, groped and raped by a middle-aged ex-Penn State football coach, then whatever misjudgment Paterno made will be a single lit match compared to the bonfire these boys will walk in for years to come,” he wrote.

And even if they can tame the bonfire, the shame and guilt that unfairly now follows them can be like walking on hot coals for the rest of their lives. You may learn to manage it, but it’s like a virus that stays with you. The reality of the matter is, when someone is sexually abused, molested, or raped, a part of them dies. Lots of people are victims of crime, but if your carjacked, you don’t spend 24 hours a day in the car. You can get a new car. If they store you work in is robbed, you don’t live a life behind that counter. You can find another job. When your body is violated, you can never leave the scene of the crime. And that pesky guilt and shame will make you feel like a shell of who you were, so you do whatever to numb it or fill it, whether it’s booze or drugs or food or sex or gambling.

I am proud of accusers in this case for having the courage to come forward. For a lot of victims, a part of them that dies is the ability to trust anyone or anything, so having faith in the system to bring justice would have been almost impossible. Throw in the hero worship of a college football program. I am so glad they are finding the strength to take their lives back. I also hope they are able to find the power for forgiveness since that will be a key to letting the pain go.

I don’t know what Paterno was thinking. He could have saved a lot of people a lot of pain if he had worried more about the health and safety of these children than winning football games. He has 17 grandchildren, so statistically speaking, one of them was or will be a victim of a sex crime. All of you know someone who has been a victim, whether or not it’s something that’s discussed. I can’t help but wonder what his attitude would be if one of his children or grandchildren was alleging abuse.

Strange Days

Election days always get me. Part of me loves the drama of it all, especially it there is something of interest at stake, like the personhood (spell check doesn't think it's a word either, assfaces) nonsense in Mississippi. Another part of me finds the whole thing ridiculous, with equal parts humor and agony. Maybe it’s all the leading up to the day and momentum that’s just so damned tiring. I swear people who work on campaigns must be the most sleep-deprived adrenaline junkies ever. I don’t recall whom, but somebody once said D.C. was Hollywood for ugly people. I know the hit was meant at physical imperfections, but perhaps s/he was on to something a bit deeper.

It just seems like anything emotionally charged brings out the worst in many of us. I’m included in the collective us. No free rides here. I say awful things about politicians, business leaders, athletes, well frankly, anyone in the news with whom I don’t agree or find offensive. And I say offensive things about them, albeit for humor or just plain meanness.

Remember the photo of Michele Bachmann eating the corn dog at the fair? Not so much eating it, as fellating it. And it wasn’t just any corn dog, it was a “We grow ‘em big in Iowa” fair dog. Her squinty little demon eyes formed into a mixture half pleasure, half agony as she took on that monster. Never have I been more thankful for camera phones.

All the instant media has gotten us into weird territory, where no one believes anyone without proof. One time I posted a FB status about wearing sweats with a hole in the butt and moonboots while walking the bitches. It happened and I share these things out of need for a laugh and attention, but one of my friends said he needed photos or it didn’t happen. It’s odd to think that memory, as factually flawed as it may be at times, is no longer a contract among friends.

This instant media also means that we live in a world with no missteps and since perfection isn’t selling, I guess we all get called out for the stupid things we do and say, whether it’s on a national stage and your detractors are using it against you, or whether you’re the chick whose topless, drunken antics from the party ended up as social networking gold.

So are we all just a bunch of bullies? Has the attack and react thought process that seems to sate our needs for instant gratification stunted us? So I go for a run or bake something or read and just generally try to stay as far away from the TV and internet as long as possible, until it’s time to post something…