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.

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.

It seems the Scarlet Knights suffered a psychic blow when Eric LeGrand went down five weeks ago. They haven’t won since. Gone is their concentration and courage. Just like any semblance of logic that would hold Schiano responsible for their last place finish.

It doesn’t seem to matter that even with LeGrand healthy, Rutgers had blown games to North Carolina and Tulane and rolled up wins against Schiano’s typical cupcake early schedule. It doesn’t seem to matter that Rutgers gets called for far too many penalties. That they can’t catch. That they can’t block and that they can’t tackle. It was clear that this team lacked fundamental skills, a bi-product of coaching, and it was evident before the Army game in which LeGrand went down.

The Newark Star Ledger is New Jersey’s largest newspaper and today, it’s sports columnists are handing Schiano an excuse for his 59 and 62 record over ten years…that you can’t play or coach football after a tragic accident.

So Schiano will head to West Virginia to complete his season, a team that he has never beaten. He’ll settle for the Knights finishing last in the Big East for the fourth time in his tenure. He’ll have broken his string of getting to a botton-of-the-barrel bowl for the fifth staight year. It’s not that we think Schiano is without contributions, its just that he’s arrogant, and holds a Svengali-like spell on the Rutgers football program. He graduates players and, for the most part, keeps them out of trouble. He promised a competitive program, but he really hasn’t delivered anything except favorable interpretations of mediocrity. He leads the nation in only one thing, being the most overrated coach in the land.

You gotta know this is grandstand play. Like I said above, the World Championships are every four years. The Iroquois knew in 2006 back in London, Ontario where they won the Bronze behind the Silver U.S. and the Gold medalist Canadians, that they were going to England in 2010. So they let it go to the deadline by insisting that their paper, not back-up U.S. and Canadian passports, which are universally recognized, admit them into the United Kingdom.

Forget the fact that passports have holograms, computer chips and other identifiable markings that make them difficult to counterfeit. Forget that law enforcement and customs officials use them as the key element to identify and track who crosses their borders and enters their country. Forget that countries regard the integrity of their borders as one of their foundations of security. Forget September 11th. The Iroquois Nation has a need to be recognized by it’s heritage. It’s the only thing that will make them feel better. Not reservations, not tax relief, not casinos, not their own police and governing officials. It wasn’t enough for Secretary of State Hilary Clinton to grant them special one-time approval to travel on their passports.

This is reminiscent of when Michael Vick declared that he wanted to be going forward, referred to and be known as “Mike.” He wouldn’t answer questions to people who called him Michael. Something happened along the way where he lost his leverage to demand the world to conform to him. The Iroquois wanted to be known in the world as Iroquois. Mother England said no.

This could have been resolved intelligently. The Iroquois passports could have been put in nice little holders with their legal passports. Some time after the World Championships, the Iroquois could have figured out what it would take to gain its sovereignty and issue it’s own passports that conform to the world standard. That might include putting an embassy in every country in the world.

Trouble is that this process will open a lot of other cans of worms. It’s not enough to walk among their home country with their own set of rules. Now they want to walk this way through the world. So as the Iroquois screams, 30 players will be denied their chance to compete. Thousands more will be shorted their chance to watch and who is going to figure out how to honor their treaties, and give them their subsidies, while they declare their independence?

One thing for sure, there will be surprises that none of the dozens of experts predicted. The decisions will also play out over time, July 1 is only when they can start talking. July 8 is when they can sign and it will take some time after that for all the pieces to fall in. The Knicks lead the way with $34.1 in cap space followed by New Jersey ($29.9), Chicago ($29.1), Miami ($26.7) LA Clippers ($16.8), Sacramento ($15.3) and Minnesota ($13.4).

The prospect of revitalizing teams with the likes of LeBron, Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh, Dirk Nowitzki and so on is tantalizing for off-season “on paper” gurus, but here’s our inside dope on the new multi-millionaires:

1. LeBron James is 27-years old and has never won anything. The theme is that he can’t do it alone and that the collection that Cleveland put together last year was a mixed grill. Talk of teaming up with Bosh or Wade may meet the demand for secondary support, but Wade and LeBron both needing the ball would be the first hurdle. Bosh is the only free agent whose value has gone up after never doing anything significant in Toronto. James is a beast, but has some mileage and may have only a five-year window to meet his goals. He’d still need a point guard and to avoid injuries. Chicago, Miami and Cleveland are the best bets, with Chicago adding a second supporter (Bosh or Nowitzki) to team with Derrick Rose, Joakim Noah and Luol Deng being the best destination for less dollars and three years. Cleveland will factor in until the end, with hometown sentiment and no resources to get him help being the big obstacles. Best Guess: Chicago.

2. Dwyane Wade will stay in Miami and Chris Bosh will follow. Not much else of a a supporting cast (Michael Beasley and Mario Chalmers) but there could be some money left over to round out the roster. Chicago could weigh in with hometown and family ties. In Miami, (or anywhere) Wade and Bosh could make for a solid team, but not a title shoo-in. Wade’s vulnerability still weighs in the brains of evaluators who watched him play wounded two season’s ago. Best Guess: Miami.

3. Dirk Nowitzki. It’s hard to imagine Nowitzki away from Mark Cuban, but Dirk remains the perfect compliment to what James and Wade are looking for to win titles. Imagine those twisting, awkward, dead-eye jumpers as an option at crunch time? Imagine his low post presence and his free throw shooting. Imagine what the Mavs would look like without him. Best Guess: Dallas or Chicago.

4. Chris Boshhasn’t really proven himself as a championship piece, but tall, good jump shooter and rebounder are hard to come by. He’s an active player, keeps balls alive and has defense and youth on his side. Bosh is regarded as “a follower.” Which guy he’ll follow remains the question. There’s no reason to believe that with the proper support Bosh would go to the next level. It’s funny how no one talks about guys that can guard LeBron. Of course, few can, but coaches don’t look it that way. Someone has to stem Bron’s flow. Bosh is one guy who can do it for a while. That’s why LeBron and Wade want him. Best Guess: Miami.

5. Rudy Gay.He’s a restricted free agent but he has the youth and talent to be a perfect sidekick. Gay presents a longer range plan where Wade and LeBron can add parts next year or later. Memphis would most likely match, but they sent Pau Gasol to the Lakers, too. Best Guess: Memphis or Miami.

6. Amar’e Stoudemire has had micro-fracture surgery, doesn’t really rebound or play defense and no longer plays above the rim. What he does do is score down low and play like a demon every night. You’ve got to question why the Suns were ready to peddle him last year for little return. From the trade deadline to the end of the year he was a great player. That’s what teams will be willing to pay for. Best Guess: New York.

7. Carlos Boozer is another guy who spent time in the dog house over the past 12 months. Now he’s prime meat. Everyone likes his power and his jumper can carry a team for awhile. He’s a double-double just about every night. He’s been nicked up, but who hasn’t? He fits with Stoudamire and Bosh as a guy who could support James and Wade. Like Stoudemire, he put up his numbers with a solid point guard, which is not guaranteed in some scenarios. Look for Boozer to reap the benefits from teams left out of the big chase. Best Guess: New Jersey.

8. Joe Johnson is a shooting guard best remebered for going to sleep in the playoffs. He can also be remembered as the guy who came from Phoenix and resurrected a woeful franchise in Atlanta. Johnson will balance the Atlanta max deal and the benefits from the after-market that could have him end up somewhere near the Hudson River. Best Guess: Atlanta or New York.

9. Paul Pierce could add a dynamic piece to any contender. He is getting long in the tooth, and it’s hard to imagine him away from Boston. It depends on his pricing and he could become a significant factor after the big guns are gone and teams are trying to round out their attacks. He may swap years for price and be some rebuilt team’s bargain chip. Best guess: Boston or Los Angeles Clippers.

10. David Lee is a 4 or 5, hard-working-white-guy, who averaged 20 and 10 for the Knicks last year. He’s young and a complimentary player who will do the dirty work. Might be easier imagining this guy on a championship team than anyone on the list. Best Guess: Minnesota.

It is the single most favorable decison ever granted to an NCAA team, giving an obvious unfair competitive advantage with blessing, as a reward for going through an awful chapter involving a lying hooker and an aggressive, politically-motivated DA. And, oh yeah, reporters like Sports Illustrated’s, ex-New York Times writer, Selena Roberts, who jumped on the throats of the Duke “privileged” and stood up for women everywhere as a loud mouth who was wrong and never apologized.

Duke sent 17 seniors out to eke an overtime win and its first national championship against Notre Dame. A just reward by “lacrosse society” and the NCAA, who granted the extra year of eligibility concession with little debate. The perception was that the bogus charges ruined the pretty good lives of Reade Seligman, Colin Finnerty and David Evans and punished the rest of the team when Duke president Richard Brodsky cancelled the remainder of the 2006 season. So the lacrosse powers-that-be and the NCAA, doled out and granted rewards to make everything right.

As it turned out, Finnerty played well in a tough overtime loss in a tournament game for Loyola of Maryland against Cornell, while Seligman played and graduated at Brown and Evans toiled on Wall Street. All three have allegedly profited from wrongful prosecution lawsuits, while Mike Pressler, the Duke coach at the time, who was discarded, without so much as an inkling of support from such good and powerful friends as Mike Kryzewski, was named head coach of the 2010 U. S. World Team.

Making everything right for a team that still engaged in a “traditional” end-of-spring-break-week party, at the captain’s off-campus house that brought the police. Complete with underaged drinking and “imported” girls. A national championship for “Blue Devils Gone Wild.”

LeBron

Big news when he talks about where he’ll wind up with Larry King on CNN. David Stern is mad because it takes away friom his marquee matchup in the Finals of Boston at Los Angeles. Still, LeBron remains the biggest non-story-forced-down-our-throats since Brett Favre’s retirement status and the U.S. Soccer team.

Cleveland can pay him the most, has shown commitment to surround him with talent and its home. Leaving Cleveland could also mark him as a quitter and change an area that now reveres him into one that detests his grand opinion of himself. The Los Angeles Clippers would allow him to rub elbows with the stars, and play with a loaded, youthful, rudderless team. But there’s Donald Sterling, the Clipper’s owner, the standard for ineptitude, who serves as the sterling standard of bumbling, for Knicks owner, James Dolan.

Chicago gets a lot of play in the speculation, but Jerry Reinsdorf has a horrible track record with Phil Jackson, Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen. He’s cheap and not beyond eventually turning his back on loved ones. Why go there?

New York, it is becoming clear, is too hot to handle. There would be money and endorsements and adoration and there is a need for the NBA to get stronger despite all of David Stern’s claims otherwise. Putting a winner in New York could revitalize the league and put LeBron’s historic stamp on it in the way that Larry and Magic pulled it out of the “cocaine years.” New York is also the best springboard to the rest of the world, something LeBron could easily conquer if “Team LeBron” is something more than a collection of talent that specializes in “low hanging fruit.”

The Knicks can only pay and the Nets can only pray. They can’t serve up a team and guarantee championships. And then there’s the phenomenon of James Dolan, perhaps the most inept owner since Ted Stepian. Why would LeBron want to struggle in front of the most sophisticated and critical fans in the game? So that he can glide through the ropes at Marquee? So that he can walk the streets and be heckled by construction workers?

Truth be told, LeBron is a beast, but could be the game’s biggest loser, about to be paid the biggest salary. He’s got seven years on a 25-year old body. Dan Marino, anyone? Charles Barkley? Karl Malone? Alex Rodriguez? None of the teams he’s being courted by qualify as sure-fire winners. Maybe his free agent summit can change that by creating a Survivor-like alliance. But what remains based on his history is that he hasn’t been capable of winning the big one. And that could be a career curse.

Tiger Woods

There have been 23 tournaments played so far and only Ernie Els has repeated, both times on the Florida swing, at Doral and Bay Hill. 23 tournaments and 22 different winners. Welcome to your new world, Tiger Woods. Yes, Tiger is now a member of the pack. He could rise up like any of the other guys and win a tournament, but his days of domination are over.

He struggles with his swing like the rest of them, not knowing what will show up week-to-week. His new spot is as the most popular golfer on tour, not it’s best, and certainly not both, as it has been for years. The pressures have hit in his head like all the others. He now has doubts. He thinks too much. He frustrates and worries. He alters his swing. He doesn’t have the world on a string anymore. He wonders what people are thinking and what his family is doing. It’s pretty certain he’s lost that edge. Welcome to the pack, Tiger.

Papi can spit-on-his-batting-gloves, slap-his-hands-together and kiss my ass. Today he becomes the poster child for the petulant, overpaid athlete who demonstrates his overwhelming lack of intelligence and class by simply lying to the press and public to avoid personal scrutiny. He probably was convinced he would get away with it. Even blowhard Boston fans could figure the other 100 names on Selena’s list would eventually come out. I wonder if any Boston fans kept those oversized syringes they waved when A-Rod came to town, and whether they’ll recycle them for ‘Skin popper,’ I mean, Papi?
The holier-than-thou Papi will likely explain away dissing A-Rod to the “Red Sox-Yankee Rivalry.” Here’s to all Red Sox fans ending up in a foxhole with Papi as their reinforcement.

Sounds like the one who should be careful is Big Papi, as in careful about what he says. If ‘Skin Papi’ says that someone should be suspended for the season if found guilty of roids, he should stand by that statement. It’s clear that he was talking about A-Rod, as he made his cowardly remarks in spring training when the whole A-Roid story broke. But what’s also clear is that Papi can joke and toss the easy target Rodriguez under the bus, but wimp out and plead the 5th when it comes to a buddy or teammate, or now, himself. Considering it took him months to hit a home run this year, maybe Papi should jump the fence and support hCG. Seems like he could use some. Don’t expect Papi to man up to the press and public like A-Rod did.

Big smile, big hits, big Boston fan favorite. Big liar. No balls.

Duncan’s playing partners, John Platt and Ralph Everett, former classmates at Berkley High School, class of 1958, verified that the ball in the cup was his original ball. Duncan not only bought drinks at the Lake Orion-based golf course, he bought at his reknowned hangout, Red China, in suburban Troy, for his abundant cronies who frequent the place daily. There was no mention whether he would pick up the tab at Peabody’s in Birmingham, another of his known hideouts. The 70-year old Duncan will continue his quest to shoot his age.

That was in the eighties when Potvin, Bossy and Trottier were carrying the Isles to Stanley Cups. Sutter had two chances as head coach with playoff Devils teams but couldn’t get over the top. So he ganged up with another of his five hockey-playing brothers, Darryl, the GM of the Calgary Flames, and began agitating Lou Lamoriello. Sutter not only quit on Lamoriello and the Devils to return to his family, ranch and junior team, he kicked up the buzz by taking the head coaching job of the Flames and raised his palms again and said, “who me?”

Lamoriello was recently named as an inductee to this year’s NHL Hall of Fame class. He’s built a dynasty organization, opened the NHL to international players and had 14 coaches in his 22 years at the helm. Although he’s from Providence College, he’s a “Jersey Guy” in the mold of no-nonsense leaders like Bill Parcells, Bob Hurley and Bill Tierney. He favors tough coaches and has given many, like Brent Sutter, chances to make their coaching careers. After seven years as head coach of the Red Deer Rebels of the WHL (a team he owned), he was given the Devils job where he went 97-56-11 in two years and lost in the first round of the playoffs each year.

Sutter would rather his desertion be portrayed as too much distance away from his family. He was a cowboy in New York City but he knew that when he took the job. Lamoriello wanted him to fulfill his contract. Sutter said, “I can have my cake and eat it too. Forget Lou Lamoriello.”

Lamoriello is saying all the right things publicly, but there are signs that he’s steamed over the situation. For a no-nonsense kind-of-guy, Lamoriello has had to handle more than his share of nonsense from Sutter.