“Touched: The Jerry Sandusky Story.” In retrospect, the title of the autobiography, published in 2001, appears like a telltale tipoff during a perverted game of Clue.@@http://www.nbcphiladelphia.com/news/local/133905758.html@@
According to the co-author of the book — a former student manager at Penn State — Sandusky insisted on the title. The intention of the word choice isn’t important. What does matter is the plethora of deceit and false pretenses promoted in the book.
To say that the scandal at Penn State has generated a storm of media controversy is a gross understatement. The tale of the misguided and conniving mentor has dominated national headlines, even outside of the sports section, for almost two weeks.
Jerry Sandusky likely deceived us all. Where most saw a role model, others saw a pedophile.
As a result, many sports writers have wondered: How could Joe Paterno’s right-hand man have done this? Where did he find the heart to advertise himself as a kindhearted and affectionate mentor when so much more lay beneath?@@http://www.gopsusports.com/sports/m-footbl/mtt/paterno_joe00.html@@
But I believe there’s another question to be asked: Why should we have believed him?
Sure, Sandusky had a charity in his name. He also had a history as a hard-working defensive coordinator at one of the most respected football programs in the nation. But who really knew him? Who had the time or ability to truly see what Sandusky stood for?
In short, no one.
You could argue that Sandusky’s problems were too deep-seated for anyone to detect. And considering the appalling nature of the allegations brought against him, that’s a completely valid point. But his pathetic and saddening tale serves to highlight an aspect of big-time athletics that too often is swept under the rug.
Sports journalists and fans tend to assume they understand the athletes and coaches they memorialize. More often than not, they have no idea what they’re talking about.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have fallen into this trap. As a journalist, my main objective is to tell a story. I’m often assigned to meet an athlete and profile his or her most prominent characteristics.
Never mind that my access is skin-deep at best. My job is to latch onto the time that I have — maybe 15 or 20 minutes at best — and create a composite. More likely than not, I’ve loosely projected the record I’m going to create before I’ve even sat down with my subject.
I’m not alone in committing this fatal error. Journalists at every level of the profession feel pressure to weave a compelling narrative that will draw eyes — and also be complete before deadline. It’s unfortunate, but going out on a limb is simply entailed in the nature of this line of work.
It’s only when a legendary program and coach get involved that people really seem to look in the mirror. Paterno holds the record for the most victories (409) and bowl wins (24) of any FBS coach. He had been with Penn State football in some capacity since 1950. He is to the Nittany Lions what the Duck is to the University of Oregon.@@http://www.newsrecord.org/index.php/article/2011/11/joe_paterno_out_at_penn_state@@
And so you may not remember that the actual president of Pennsylvania State University, Graham Spanier, was fired along with Paterno. As a sports fan, why should you? Spanier has never won a bowl game. Regardless, the guy runs a public university that is responsible for the education of more than 40,000 students. No one seems to be terribly upset, including the students in State College, Pa. They didn’t feel compelled to vouch for Spanier. But they were willing to riot for Paterno.@@http://president.psu.edu/@@ @@http://www.statecollege.com/@@
I don’t blame them. There’s something about the nature of athletics that lends itself to perpetual and unwavering faith. With all the media spin and unnecessary hype surrounding sports, it is easy to feel like you’re best buds with your local head coach or star quarterback. After all, they’re practically dragged to the podium for a press conference before and after every significant development during the season.
This interaction allows sports journalists to play along for a few moments. We look both athletes and coaches in the eye and ask them anything we want. We laugh along with their jokes. For a few brief moments throughout each season, we pretend.
And that’s all it is: pretense. What else are we expected to do — follow them home and file an investigative report?
We can’t, and neither can those who rely on our information: the fans. We’re forced to do our best to feign knowledge where only speculation exists. Only the family and close friends of these public figures receive an authentic opportunity to delve at the core of their existence.
I wish it could be different, but I’m not sure how we can really change things. In the end, one can only hope that those most guilty of hypocrisy — like Sandusky — are brought to justice. Outside of such wishes, all that fans and writers can do is try our best to interpret and level judgment.