My Oh My, it just continues!

Apologies to Dave Niehaus, but it was all I could think of. It continues. My oh my, it just continues.

Photo: Matthew O’Haren-USA TODAY Sports
Hey P, why the mask? Don’t want mama to see you on TV?
I don’t blame you.
#douchebag

People wonder why it’s so important to write about pedophilia.

Why? Because Penn State University just orgasmed all over themselves celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of Joe Paterno’s first game.

The same Joe Paterno who was allegedly informed in 1976 of sexual abuse against a child by one of his assistants, then let decades of the same thing go by. Football was more important.

The same Joe Paterno who admitted, just before he died, that he knew about it and should have done something about it.

Why? Because ten bare-chested young men took to the front row of Saturday’s game against Temple, shoulder to shoulder, spelling out JOEPATERNO in Nittany Blue body paint.

Nobody’s spelling out the names of those decades of victims. They’re still listed in court docs as John Does. Like John Doe #102 who got sent back to juvenile prison for reporting a sexual assault.

Why? Because throngs of fans still adore JoePa.

And they ignore those who speak the truth.

Why? Because there’s a damn mural in town with a halo over JoePa’s head.

Sorry, but he needs some horns and a pitchfork.

Why? Because if there’s a poster child right now for the tone-deaf, ignore-the-victim-at-the-altar-of-sports culture, it’s the Penn State Athletic Department. Under pressure from alums and worshipers dangling donation checks, they caved. Screw doing the right thing, we got us some low hanging cash over here.

We can’t stand to hear Bill Cosby’s name anymore. That’s as it should be. He’s not what we thought he was. We can’t watch Huxtable, quote that hilarious Noah’s Ark routine, or pick wisdom from Fatherhood, without cringing.

But JoePa still rules on high in State College PA.

Cosby raped adults. We care about that. It’s disgusting. We’re so broken, so disappointed in our former favorite actor.

All JoePa did was turn his back. He turned his back on a generation of boys, and let Jerry Sandusky kill their souls. Murder.

Would you send your kid to that school? Would you put a young adult, ready to meet the challenges of the real world, into that environment, where success on the field overshadows character? Where we worship the memory of a man who allowed lives to be ruined?  And we claim his reputation was tarnished by a bunch of do-gooders?

What parent would want that for their fresh high school grad?

Someone’s parents did. Somewhere, somehow, those parents raised ten boys who can ignore the terror and heartbreak of Sandusky’s victims, and paint Paterno’s name on their bodies for the television audience.

Would you want your daughter in that environment, on a campus that encourages this kind of idolatry, with boys that practice it? What happens when she’s had a couple drinks and one of those bare-chested scions of righteousness is taking her home from a party?

It’s everywhere. It’s in our schools, in our all-or-nothing sports clubs. It’s in our homes. It’s parents who hand over the keys to the kingdom to some other adult. Then they wonder how their kids’ lives got ruined. Meanwhile we love to talk about first downs and personal bests and isn’t it awesome that coach promoted my daughter to the next level.

Then there’s the stuff we can’t bring ourselves to talk about, not if we care about our kid’s future in the sport, like did he really touch my daughter that way, should he be alone on that road trip with my son, why won’t he let parents watch practice.

A 14-year-old girl, right here in this little town, laments the firing of her swim coach in a letter to the editor. Her goggles filled with tears at his insults and verbal abuse, but, y’know, he was just trying to make her successful. And it was all so much better when he made her grin ear to ear with a compliment after a good swim. Why do we tolerate this bullshit manipulation from those we trust with our precious young ones?

Can you imagine a stranger treating that same little girl that way? Mom or Dad would call the cops. But the coach gets to yank her around because her future in the pool is at stake.

It’s that ubiquitous culture that forgives and explains away behavior by those who should unequivocally be held to a higher standard.

A police officer beats a suspect but he’s all about law and order and he’s a role model so we let it go. A soldier shoots an unarmed civilian but by God like all soldiers, no exceptions, he’s fighting for our freedom. So we let it go.

If we hold them in such high regard, should we not expect, should we not demand, impeccable behavior? Why are we handing over a blank check to do whatever they want? If you shoot that civilian, you’ll be tried for murder and court-martialed. If you beat that suspect, you’ll be fired immediately, damn your blue line of silence and unending appeals from your police union.

And Joe Paterno, if you allowed child molestation to go on because you thought  it would be bad press, that’s exactly why you got fired. May you rest in peace, but your image and your legacy should be erased from before our eyes.

Yet your name is spoken reverently as if you were Jesus Christ himself on campus.

We have it backwards. We didn’t just let the fox into the henhouse. We chucked the keys in with him and let him lock us out.

We hear the cries of the victims, and God help us, we shrug and walk away.

Something’s wrong here, and it needs to change. It has to start some time, somewhere, and it might as well be here and now.

That’s why we write about pedophiles.