The storm in State College, PA is barely a week old and you don’t need to be a brilliant seer into the future to predict tumultuous times at Penn State for many days ahead.  University trustees announced late Wednesday night that school president Graham Spanier and Joe Paterno, the man whose name graces, or perhaps more aptly now disgraces their library, the esteemed Paternoville camping area outside Beaver Stadium’s ticket gate, and nearby statue depicting an exuberant Paterno proudly in trot with index finger pointed skyward as if to declare, “we are and always will be Penn State: number 1″, are no longer employed.  Fired rather.

For Paterno, it ends a 46 year career like no other in the face of the most shameful scandal in college athletics history.  Undeniably the preeminent ambassador of Penn State  and the coaching profession regardless of the sport, the prototypical architect of what we all thought remained to be good about collegiate athletics, Paterno’s legacy will be irreparably damaged.  Why?  Because he fumbled the biggest play those 46 years brought before him.  A play which did not involve tattoo parlors, agents, or boosters, but a play that involved innocent, helpless, already at-risk kids.

Coaches often preach, and Paterno was no different, that the mark of a truly complete student-athlete is that embodiment of excellence on and off the playing field.  Paterno’s program taught 18 to 22 year old men not only how to be great warriors on the gridiron, but great leaders outside those lines.  Though Joe’s teams were not always of Big Ten or BCS championship caliber, especially in the last decade, these teams were always prepared to be great, perennially filled with NFL ready talent, and, quite simply, they were Penn State.  The Nittany Lions.  Enough said.  On the field, one might argue that Joe’s legacy can not be touched.  But off the field is a different story.

Joe Pa could have done more.  So much more.  Yes, he donated money, and yes he was willing to go to work for less than Bob Stoopes, Jim Tressel and countless other colleagues with far fewer accomplishments, but none of that matters now when it comes to his enabling long time assistant Jerry Sandusky, accused of sexually abusing at least ten young boys over the course of several years.  Albeit indirect and out of his plain view, Paterno’s “involvement” in this nightmare is that he was in a position to do something; to help kids who were truly in danger.   This is to speak nothing of Penn State and the football program he spent over half a century building into a power.  What was that something he needed to do?  I don’t know.   But I do know it included more than nonchalantly reporting it to the athletic director and then bottling it up inside for the better part of a decade.  I know it did not include permitting Jerry Sandusky on football program premises whenever he felt like it.

You have to wonder how much regret stewed inside Paterno as he has made his infamous daily pilgrimage, humbly on foot from his nearby home to the football offices on campus.  Didn’t knowledge of something gone very wrong in 2002 irk him?  It must have.  After then graduate assistant Mike McQueary approached Joe on that March 2, 2002 day to inform the head coach he had seen Sandusky and a 10 year old boy in a shower the night before, what has Joe thought about that matter since?  Before this scandal broke.

Did he wonder about that boy’s, or other boys’ outcomes in life?  Moreover, did he ever dream things could lead to his exit in this fashion?  In his wildest dreams, did Joe fathom that his final goodbye would be anything but that fairytale ending?  No way.

 

There’s an old adage that the lacrosse community epitomizes that occasional “small world” scenario. How many times have you been in conversation with so-and-so, and that person knows so-and-so due to some degree of proximal separation, and all caused by lacrosse’s doing? Well, I can’t tell you how many times this phenomenon has unfolded before me, and so, as the ten-year anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks passes, I find myself taken by that personal connection to those people who helped carve for me indelible life moments prior to that fateful day.

Father-son

I spent at least one evening in the company of Donald, whose son Geoff was a friend of mine in college. I met Donald through Geoff at the University of Delaware and I remember having a great time over drinks and “shenanigans” at Geoff’s apartment on Main Street in Newark. Don was the type of dad (a lot like mine, which was why I liked him) who so enjoyed spending time with his sons in the company of their goofball friends.

Geoff and his family had been from Manhasset, New York, a Long Island lacrosse mecca, where Jim Brown starred in lacrosse (and, oh yeah, football too) before Syracuse, a place that continues to churn out some of the top players in the country. I would never have met Geoff had it not been for common acquaintances through lacrosse. A couple of my Delaware teammates were also close friends with Geoff, so therefore I would have never met Donald if not for a relationship lacrosse helped to mold.

Shortly after 9/11 I met Geoff in Wilmington for what turned out to be the last time since we hung out regularly in college. I can recall the strength with which he spoke when I asked him how he was coping after the loss of his father in such a sudden and unimaginable way. Having lost my father to cancer this past July, I now have a better understanding of where that strength comes from.

Newsday on Long Island recently did a small film interview with Geoff and asked how much he remembers of the actual day, September 11, what that day was like for him, and how he and his family have managed to cope since. It was great to see him doing well — actually living in New York City, married, and at peace.

The “area”

In college we used to rib each other when someone gloated about some relatively famous (at least to us) person, usually athletes, who hailed from our respective home town or “area”. During my sophomore year I had two roommates from Nyack, New York and so Jon Hess (Princeton Lacrosse virtuoso on arguably the greatest attack line ever), Elton Brand, Keith Bullock, who all went on to success in the pros after great prep careers around the Hudson Valley, were often repeatedly (stress on “repeatedly”) subjects of mindless banter. I, too, would chime in about usually some obscure athletes from my “area” in northern, New Jersey. Glenn Sekunda, anyone? Parsippany Hills, New Jersey basketball star, early 90s? Syracuse, transferred to Penn State? I’m shocked.

Okay, my list was far less impressive I would come to realize than the Hudson Valley one often bragged by Will and Kevin, my two housemates from Nyack. Some of the people from my “area”, like Sekunda, did experience marginal successes, but only if I could prove it.

Kevin, Will and I would often trade sarcastic comments, often unsolicited, over our clinging to “glory days” through constant mentioning of people from the “area”. Both Kevin and Will were good lacrosse players (Kevin, a goalie, Will, a middie) who grew up with Hess and Welles Crowther, at the time an equities trader with Sandler O’Neill & Partners, who heroically perished on the day of the 9/11 attacks.

I’m not exactly certain whether at some point I met Welles through Willy or Kevin. But I can swear with positivity that they both spoke about him often. No different from any of our closest friends, I remember Welles’ name coming up over conversation, usually with some term of endearment attached to it — something like “scrapper”, “legend” or “asshole” (actually pronounced by New Yorkers as ess-hole and, unlike in most discourse, was a commonly used, matter-of-fact, surprisingly benevolent attachment to any buddy’s name. For example, “How’s that asshole doing? Haven’t heard from him in a while.”)

There’s a uniqueness to the bonds that people from New York form through friendships, and I mean that in a good way. Will and Kevin clearly shared that unique friendship with Welles. When I caught the piece ESPN recently aired about Welles, Man In The Red Bandanna, I was immediately moved by the photographs and film footage of Welles as a lacrosse player at Nyack and Boston College. As I learned his story narrated by Ed Burns, I couldn’t help but feel an attachment to Welles. It’s impossible to comprehend what someone like him experienced on 9/11. Though I didn’t really know him hardly at all, I sure knew of him. That certainly wouldn’t have been possible without having Kevin and Will as teammates, and always talking about the “area”.

Everyone comes from an “area” — it is our own personal small world and, for some like me, it is often shaped by lacrosse.

March 24, 2011 – Despite having a built-in media source to defend himself, I’m not so sure that Fred Wilpon didn’t know he had a golden goose in Bernie Madoff. I have got to believe Fred enjoyed working on his monthly bills with a pool of replenishing cash. Now he’s claiming to be a victim, and that even though the earnings on his money didn’t make sense, running a baseball team with a private fountain of cash, makes it all the easier to explain Johan Santana, a new stadium, the SNY Network, Luis Castillo and Oliver Perez.

I also believe that every week that Tiger Woods signs up to play, the hacks in the media love to make a news story about Tiger’s chances of busting out of his slump. Now I love watching Tiger as much as the next guy, but the only thing you are sure to see are Tiger’s sourpuss looks at his shots, letting go of clubs or slamming them around and curses at himself in the first person. He seems to be able to play under par, trouble is the other guys are double digits under par. Watching Tiger would be a whole lot more interesting if he held his club on every shot like he hit it stiff. The trouble is that he let’s us know as soon as he passes through the ball that its another bad shot. No mystery in watching that, and it only adds to the increasing discontent his followers have had over the past 16 months. Pretty soon, Tiger will become passe and join the ranks of the heckled. And how about making a putt once in while, Tiger?

March 9, 2010 – The thing about basketball at “the world’s most famous arena” or basketball in New York in general, is the insistence that everything is the best, when it comes to “The City Game.” The trickle down goes from players to coaches, announcers and even to officials.

How many times do we have to hear how legendary and great referees Tim Higgins and Jim Burr are? Throughout the St. John’s – Rutgers Big East tournament game today, Higgins and Burr and their third, Earl Walton, made so many questionable calls that even the ESPN announcing team of Fran Fraschilla, Doris Burke and Dave Pasch began second guessing calls, especially as the game wound down to the final minute. For Higgins and Burr, where was ass kissing Bill Raftery when they needed him?

In the last minute of an otherwise entertaining, well fought Big East battle, Mike Coburn drove the lane through obvious contact, the referees call was as offensive as the home cookin’ they displayed all afternoon. The ball then went to St. Johns, a missed shot and scrum for the loose ball when a Red Storm player clobbered a Rutgers player from the back. St. Johns ball. This was followed by a half court baseball pass by Rutgers followed by a mugging, a walk, a step out of bounds with time on the clock, and the offending St. John’s player throwing the ball into the stands, which is usually a technical.

By this time, Burr was half way up the ramp to his dressing room, Higgins was probably trying to figure out how many things happened right in front of him without him blowing his whistle, and Walton folded like a cheap suit by deferring to his hall-of-fame partners.

Refs have a tough job. The truth is Higgins and Burr are as mediocre as they get, but somebody has to be called the best. This performance looked like an old fashioned “fix was in” but it was actually the kind of job they always do. Can’t wait for the list of guys in the game who come to Higgins’ and Burrs’ defense. Will Bob Knight lead the charge like he did yesterday for Jim Tressel?

Rumor has it that the refs left early because they had a date at a steakhouse with Jim Joyce.

December 14, 2010 – Since his final loss against West Virginia on December 4th, Greg Schiano has been rendered to his office. He lost out on three extra weeks of practice and the hoopla and rewards of a bowl game. He’s allegedly analyzing his 2010 season, making an attempt at keeping his highest-ever recruited quarterback from transferring, reviewing his recruits and taking a closer look at his staff.

Don’t expect much from his efforts. He’s not under any real pressure from above to answer for his 59-63 ten-year record. If quarterback Tom Savage leaves, so what? There’s no telling what his middling recruiting class will bring in, because Schiano has an erratic record of red shirting and jerking players around from their natural positions or losing talent altogether. This season he played a starting tackle at tight end. He made two defensive linemen into offensive linemen in mid-season (no clues before that, Greg?), made two defensive backs and an offensive back into receivers and played a converted QB at tight end.

In Schiano’s eyes his coaching staff is aces and by keeping them under his thumb and not bringing in anyone who could possibly threaten his reign, he will at least keep a death grip on the Rutgers job. He needs to, because the days of being sought after by Miami, Michigan and Alabama are over.

Here’s a short list of what Schiano should be doing as he assesses his team for next year.

1. Make a Change

It’s a time-honored move that is used time and again to create a tone that says he means business. Offensive coordinator Kirk Ciarrocca is the most logical target. Rumors are that Ciarrocca will be interviewed for the Temple opening now that Al Golden has gone to Miami. That development might also free up former UMASS head coach, Mark Whipple, who was the Hurricane’s offensive coordinator under Randy Shannon. The co-coordinator system isn’t working. Creative play-calling and passing game coordination are a big need. Rutgers has the tools in their passing game, there just isn’t any precision. Too many dropped balls and wasted plays.

2. Tell Kyle Flood To Coach Up the Offensive Line

In Schiano’s own words, Flood is the “best teacher at that position I have ever been around.” So why not give Flood one responsibility in 2011, to make the offensive line a strength? Simply couple Flood up with the guy who is the best at what he does on Schiano’s staff, strength and conditioning coach, Jay Butler, and improve the offensive line that allowed a nation-leading 61 sacks in 2010. Seven experienced offensive linemen return for 2011. Only center Howard Barbieri graduates. Three freshman recruits could provide size and depth. The redshirt ranks will bring ten wide bodies to choose from.

3. Sit down With Bill Belichick

When Belichick visits to see his son play for the Rutgers lacrosse team this spring, invite him in to pick his brain. Ask questions about how the hoodie always comes up with creative offensive guys (Charlie Weis, Josh McDaniels, Bill O’Brien). How does he always have a passing game? How did he develop his “no-name” pro bowl offensive line? How does he get along without elite running backs? What are his secrets about evaluating talent? And follow it up with, “How do you manage to lead when your staff is highly regarded and always in demand by others?

4. Stop Looking for Ray Rice

Rice bailed on his commitment to Syracuse and landed in Schiano’s lap by luck. He was the best back RU has ever had, a combination of speed and great power generated from his lower body strength. So, in one of the great mysteries of searching for the next RR, Schiano has made his bones recruiting “smallish” backs ever since. He missed out on Donald Brown who went to UCONN, Ray Graham and Dion Lewis who signed at PITT. All New Jersey high school products.
In 2011 Schiano has six experienced returning backs. Jordan Thomas showed the most promise in 2010. Joe Martinek, who runs with Rice’s power at times, was saddled by an ankle injury all year. D’Antwann Williams was given some reps. Mason Robinson returns with weakened knees and is shuttled to the wide receiver spots. Jawan Jamison and Casey Turner are the unknown red shirts who may be a factor. Four-star Florida recruit Chevelle Buie, is 5′ 7,” 153 pounds. This is the specific area that Schiano needs to discuss with Belichick regarding “talent assessment.”