Tag Archives: Jerry Sandusky

Joe Paterno, Rick Perry, truck-flipping, my generation, and the values for which we fight

“Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” — Henry David Thoreau
“It’s unfortunate. We preach, preach, preach and they stepped out of line. They deserve what they’re going to get. Whatever that’s going to be, I don’t know. My feeling on all of this is they have a responsibility to the      program, they have a responsibility to themselves, to their family. They have responsibility to their teammates. And if they do something as dumb as it appears they did, and I’m not saying if they did or they didn’t yet, but even being close to that kind of thing, I’m not going to play any one of those three kids this weekend.” — Joe Paterno

I think we can tell a lot about a society by its riots, by the values it holds dear enough to rise up and protect in the face of withering persecution. Civil disorder is wrought by those who feel excluded from the civility that has been imposed by the ruling class, so its machinations tend to reveal the true nature of both the powerful and the oppressed. The spark to the powder keg occurs with a single act of injustice, and like a shrieking teapot, the tempest explodes.

I thought about this last night as hundreds of students flooded the main drag at Penn State and revealed their definition of injustice. And it made me sad. It made me sad for our generation. It made me sad for our country. But most of all, it made me sad for our future. Because it made me think that we have reached a point in our culture where we can no longer rely on our young and most open-minded members to act as the driving forces behind positive social change.

You might think this is an over-reaction, and you might be correct. This web site is not going to be another one of those places where somebody sits in front of a computer screen and interprets reality in definitive terms and leaves you to either agree with him or tell him to go bleep himself. It is not going to fit the current prototype of a blog, where people of a similar mindset can congregate in intellectual safety and feed upon information and opinion that caters to their established world view. One of the things I have come to believe is that the most consistently-honest declaration in the English language is, “I don’t know.” For some reason, admitting the lack of knowledge is much harder than pretending that we have it. We live in a country where knowledge is often defined as a talking point. Find enough people who share the same mindset, and that mindset becomes Truth, regardless of the physical or philosophical validity of its foundation.

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A hard look at the mind-warping culture of college sports

By DAVID MURPHY

dave@rebelbutter.com

There is an image that all of us need to internalize, particularly those of us who gathered in front of that famous little house in State College yesterday afternoon, whooping and chanting in a desperate attempt to keep a legend alive.

The image is one of a 10-year-old boy with his 10-year-old hands pressed up against the wall of a shower, a man he once trusted violating him from behind.

Pretend it was you. A 10-year-old you. And pretend that in the middle of this act, this violation of trust that you were not old enough to process, you heard a noise in the room behind you, and you turned your head to look, and you saw another person, another adult, one who clearly had the misfortune of stumbling upon the scene.

The adult saw you. The adult saw what the man in the shower was doing to you. The adult saw that you saw him, saw that the man saw him.

And then. . .there was silence. The adult left.

Maybe you recognized his face. Maybe you knew that he was a former Penn State quarterback, knew that he had transitioned into a coaching role. Maybe you were too confused, to panicked, too afraid to recognize anything. But you knew that somebody knew. You knew that an adult knew.

Out of all of the gut-wrenching images produced by the grand jury indictment against Jerry Sandusky, this is the one that should haunt all of us the most. Most sexual crimes play out in the dark, shrouded in secrecy and shame, their ultimate revelation accompanied by regretful declarations that if only we had known, things could have turned out differently.

And yet there it is, at the top of page seven, under the heading Victim 2: “The graduate assistant was shocked, but noticed that both Victim 2 and Sandusky saw him.”

This is the image that all of us need to remember, and the disturbing displays of defiance that unfolded in University Park yesterday suggest it is an image that has not yet registered with a segment of the school’s population.

They chanted Joe Paterno’s name, sang the alma mater, adhered to the old coach’s request to pray for the victims. Then they made plans to stand guard at his statue, determined to keep any vandals at bay.

It was and is everything that is wrong with the wind-warped populous that has been created by the propagandists who every day walk to their lairs dressed in president’s clothing. This is the culture that the multi-billion dollar facade known as revenue sports has created on college campuses across our country, a culture where our society’s supposed future is unable to distinguish between a football program and one of the most serious violations of trust ever committed by an institution of higher learning. This is not about Joe Paterno. This is not about whether we “Remember hm for 409,” as one sign-bearing student reportedly instructed us to do. This isn’t about Jerry Sandusky. This isn’t even about Penn State. If everything that we read in that grand jury report is true, this is about the kind of moral failure that a corrupt system of profiteering and control can breed when it starts to see itself as some sort of parallel society with its own set of rules and standards.

For six years, Victim 2 waited in silence for somebody to say something. For six years, he heard nothing. Nothing about the man he once trusted. Nothing about the crime he committed that day. Nothing that suggested anybody believed anything out of the ordinary occurred in the locker room that day.

For six years, nobody stood guard as Victim 2 suffered in silence. For six years, nobody provided an answer that had to gnaw his insides: Why? Why did it take six years? Why did it take a grand jury to determine the details of a sickening crime that a bystander had witnessed?

Maybe the answer unfolded before our eyes in front of that famous house yesterday afternoon. Here’s the thing about legends: nine times out of ten, they are complete bullshit. They are fairy tails invented for profit or comfort, designed to prey on our desperate belief that not all of us have to be human. Isn’t that what college sports are all about? The legends? They myths? The larger than life? Well guess what. Maybe, just maybe, most of it is bullshit.

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