Nittany tears

All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.

Irish orator Edmund Burke phrased this idea in 1770, long before Tim Curley, Gary Schultz, Graham Spanier, and yes, even before Joe Paterno, were all born.

It enrages me, however, as a fan, a college student, and above all, as a human being, that the atrocities that occurred at Penn State were able to continue under the employment of defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky.

All because a few good men did nothing.

First of all, let’s get this straight. Jerry Sandusky is a pedophile. He may be denying it right now, but with all the accusations, forty and counting, with witnesses, there is no getting around what an utterly disturbed man he is.

The focus of the mainstream media, though, for the past week at least, has not been Sandusky.

The person we have seen plastered all over the newspapers, our Internet news feeds and the television is that of one of the most storied coaches in all of sports: Joe Paterno.

Paterno’s 409 wins, encompassing a head-coaching career that began in 1966, make him one of the most legendary collegiate icons of all time. A man whose face is practically a more recognizable logo for Penn State than the Nittany Lion itself, Paterno has received the Paul “Bear” Bryant Award, Big Ten Coach of the Year and the NCAA Gerald R. Ford Award, just to name a few.

Due to his status, Paterno’s dismissal has led some people to feel that the head coach got a raw deal out of this whole situation.

And at the beginning, I will admit, I was one of them.

It seemed that Sandusky was a cancer to a tradition of excellence, a cancer that unfortunately consumed Paterno in its path. He was not, however, the most publically known figure in the case, and therefore did not develop into the scapegoat that his superior easily became.

After time to analyze the situation, however, and gather all the information that has been made public, I understand Penn State’s decision to remove Paterno and support it 100%.

You see, Penn State University is not just a football team. It is an institution of learning, and a prestigious one at that. PSU has a reputation of excellence, a reputation that will now forever be tarnished. The only hope of salvation for Happy Valley was, and is, to wash their hands of all involved.

That means eliminating all who have any connection whatsoever, requiring the figure-head of the team to lead the march out the door.

The head coach turned in the incident to the athletic director, who turned it in to the president of the university. This is where the burden of morality stopped, as no further action or notification of authority took place.

“With the benefit of hindsight, I wish I had done more,” Paterno said.

Well no kidding.

When the innocence of children is at stake, the reputation of a team cannot be put before the safety of the defenseless. The lack of moral leadership in the entire Penn State administration is sickening.

Let us not forget in this entire mess the true victims: the children. Please pray for them and their families through this tumultuous ride that will only reveal more with time.

Defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky is the true evil in this scandal.

But evil was allowed to prevail because Paterno and his superiors did nothing.

Pigskin popularity

Americans are busy. Look at your life, your hectic schedule. Class and work, errands and odd jobs, practices and a few minutes for meals and rest; there just isn’t enough time in the day to finish all that needs to be done.

This, America, is why football has become our favorite sport.

Gridiron greats and frightfully devoted fans will argue without hesitation that it is the hard-nosed atmosphere, the bone-crushing hits and the macho-man personas that have driven this country’s athletic focus to football. They pass off baseball, basketball, hockey, and soccer as secondary sports (a.k.a. what to watch when nothing else is on T.V.).

The truth, however, is time. There just isn’t enough of it. Football as a whole, whether it realizes it or not, has capitalized on America’s crunched schedules.

To understand where I’m coming from, let’s look at Major League Baseball. My favorite team, the Cincinnati Reds, has played six games in the past week. I am a college student and have watched bits and pieces of I believe two games. That is a lot more than I can say for most of my peers. Why? It isn’t because I don’t enjoy watching their games. The fact is that I do not have time to set two and a half hours out from my daily schedule to cheer on the Redlegs. And those six games are only a minute chunk of the 162 in an entire MLB season; I would consider fans dedicated if they watch an entire 30 of those.

This is where football comes into play. One game a week. In primetime. Friday night lights? Appealing to the small town high school crowd looking for local weekend entertainment. Saturday college football? Works great for those who follow, giving a reason to relax on the couch on a weekend afternoon. And Sunday? The first day of the new week has now become the time allotted for watching athletics. People tired from the long week, many whom have dedicated their only other off day, Saturday, to hauling their own kids to games, doing yard work, or finishing odd ends, can finally sit down and watch sports.

And, more importantly, these weekends only come roughly 20 twenty times the entire year.

You see, every football game is important because they are so few and far between. There are 16 regular season game in the NFL. Therefore, practically every situation is a must-win, and each can build anticipation over the course of a few days. This makes every event have that extra edge, the hype that draws in sports fans able to give a mere three hours from their entire week to see their team play. By watching the game they can be updated on their team’s record and players for at least six more days while they go about their business.

MLB and NBA: Lose a heartbreaker? It’s okay. You’ll be back to play the same team tomorrow.

No wonder the Super Bowl is always one of the most highly rated television programs every year. One day, packed with food and sports, with a champion decided by midnight. Divide that by seven, as most other sports decide their crowns, and there simply isn’t enough time for viewers.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not bashing football for its prime marketing skills. I have bought into the hype just like everyone else, wearing my Reebok jersey on Sunday and monitoring every fantasy player I have on the field. It just makes me wonder: What if soccer had claimed Sunday’s first?

Dave Dravecky plays for His team

Dave Dravecky is a man of many words. Baseball, politics, fishing, travel, whatever topic you can think of, he will be happy to discuss it with you. To see Dravecky’s eyes really light up, however, don’t ask him about whom he hit his solo home run off of, or how he threw his four-seam fastball. No, what really drives Dravecky, his passion in life, is something more than that.

To meet the real Dave Dravecky, ask him about his faith.

I was very fortunate to have the opportunity this week to go to dinner with Dravecky, along with two of my professors, and talk with the man behind the San Francisco Giants jersey. Dravecky was a left-handed pitcher for the San Diego Padres from 1982 to 1987, and was then traded to the Giants in July 1987. He was selected for the National League All-Star team in 1983, an incredible accomplishment for any professional baseball player.

Now, this is where the story gets a little rough. During the 1988 season with the Giants, it was discovered that Dravecky had cancer in his left arm, tragically, as he was a southpaw. Doctors removed half of his deltoid muscle, adamant that he would never pitch again.

Then came the comeback. In 1989, Dravecky returned to professional baseball. The fans were ecstatic to see a story of triumph, of overcoming a seemingly insurmountable obstacle to once again dawn the black and orange.

And then it happened: “the pitch that could be heard around the world.” Just days after Dravecky’s return, his arm broke on a fateful pitch, snapping his humerus cleanly in two. After tests were run, it was found that the cancer had returned. Eventually, his left arm and shoulder were amputated.

This is where we begin to see the real Dravecky. Faith is what has motivated the former Giant to use his story in an effort to reach out to a younger generation.

What sparked Dravecky’s interest, I found, wasn’t when I asked about his analysis of scouting reports. What really hit home was, “Were you able to incorporate your faith into the clubhouse during your career?”

He looked at me with a smile. Where to begin?

Dravecky spoke about how he lived his life as a Christian baseball player just as that: a Christian. Sure, he often faced ridicule in the hardnosed world of America’s pastime, but he was driven to live his life in a way that honored that which he cherished. Dravecky lived out his career in a Christian manner, using his own life as an example that others could look upon, yearning for the faith that he had.

Dravecky said to me one of the greatest compliments he had ever received was years later, when he found that former Giants teammate Goose Gossage said that Dave Dravecky had one of the strongest Christian faiths that he had ever seen.

Today, Dravecky uses his life in a different role. He no longer stares down batters from the mound, but reaches out to people in an effort help them realize the love and forgiveness available through Jesus Christ. He will joke with you about how he often warmed up with a mere 15 throws, but then will connect his career and success to God’s grace and will.

As we left the restaruant, I came to a realization: Dravecky’s story is one that inspires us all, but the author is not Dravecky.

Column originally published in the April 15, 2011 edition of The Franklin.

Falling Stars

"I knew my actions were wrong.  But I convinced myself that normal rules didn't apply.  I never thought about who I was hurting.  Instead, I thought only about myself.  I ran straight through the boundaries that a married couple should live by.  I thought I could get away with whatever I wanted to.  I felt that I had worked hard my entire life and deserved to enjoy all the temptations around me.  I felt I was entitled.  Thanks to money and fame, I didn't have far -- didn't have far to go to find them."

            

Tiger Woods looks solemnly out to the crowded CNN broadcast room, head no longer dawned in his usual Nike golf cap, reciting the words of shame and apology printed in front of him.  His mother sits in the crowd, a small Asian woman, unwilling to raise her eyes to look at her son, once an untainted hero, a god in the athletic realm.  That had all changed so fast.

            

"I want to say to each of you, simply, and directly, I am deeply sorry for my irresponsible and selfish behavior I engaged in."

            

On November 27, 2009, Woods had a car accident that rose suspicions about his possible infidelity.  After a dozen women claimed in various media outlets that they had affairs with Woods, media pressure increased.  On February 19, 2010, he issued a full apology on CNN, admitting to infidelity and announcing an indefinite hiatus from professional golf.

            

What a shame.  Tiger Woods was once idolized in the eyes of sports fans globally, now seen as a sex-addicted fabrication to which the world does not owe understanding, but scorn.  The fall from grace of such an athlete has become less than unusual in today's society, however, as Woods is not alone in the scandalous behavior of world class sports icons.

            

Take Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger for another example: two-time Super Bowl champion, charming young athlete with a baby faced grin and good personality.  Big Ben was a legend in the mind of so many fans, so many of them young.  Then he is accused of sexually assaulting, not one, but two different women within a year's time.

            

Washington Wizards star Gilbert Arenas: sentenced to thirty days in a halfway house for taking guns into the Wizards' locker room.

           

Ex-New York Giants linebacker Lawrence Taylor: admitted to paying a prostitute $300 for sex--a girl only sixteen years old.

             

New York Jets wideout Santonio Holmes: five week suspension from the NFL for "violating the league's substance abuse policy"--a euphemism for "we caught him with marijuana."  This only added to his infamous career with the law, charges including domestic violence.

            

And this is just the tip of the iceberg.  These are only five big-name athletes.  This is only in the past few years.

            

But why?  Why do athletes often feel compelled to act in such disgraceful, and often unlawful, manners?  These stars, who's shoes fans buy, who's jerseys are dawned on game day, who's signatures are framed and cherished in homes of sports fanatics, who can turn from idol to betrayer in the blink of a young fan's eye, a feast of shame and stories, accusations and apologies, feeding a monster that broadcasts their lives to the world.  The trend of negative behavior exhibited by superstar athletes, especially in the past decade, is the product of not only their own lack of self-conscience, but of the fame and money that place them in such situations, the entitlement they feel they have earned, and the biggest leach suckling at the misery and misfortunes of big-name stars: the media.

            

As Tiger Woods stated in his apology broadcasted by CNN that he felt entitled.  Entitled to enjoy the temptations thrust in front of the highest paid athlete in the world.  Entitled to have a little fun, "blow off some steam," reap the benefits of having your face plastered on every Gatorade bottle sold, the benefits of having your smile gleaming at consumers from within every Gillette commercial.  Tiger Woods is not alone in having a false sense of entitlement.  These athletes all have one thing in common: a gift.  They have the gift of an athletic body, one which can perform at the top levels of competition.  Their physical advancement has helped them to climb the social ladder from lower to middle class everyday citizen to multimillionaire stars.  Such money, such recognizability, will indeed cause increased attention, increased ability to have what they want, when they want it.  And with these temptations so plentiful, one must ask, "Doesn't common sense tell them that when they have everything they could have dreamed of, that they should not push the limit and risk it all?"

            

Common sense does tell them that.  But what supersedes their common sense is the simple fact that these athletes, these superstars, these gods of the gridiron, the hardwood, the diamond, are human.  It is in human nature to be greedy, to get what one wants, and then want more.  Such actions can be traced all the way to biblical times, as the Christian Bible depicts Adam and Eve living in Eden, a land of perfection, no trouble, no sin.  One rule applied: do not eat the forbidden fruit.  The first two humans had it all, a life of sinless freedom; they lived in a perfect world, one today's society can only imagine, they had everything anyone could ever ask for, and yet they wanted more.  They couldn't have the fruit.  So what did they do?

            

They ate the fruit.

            

Professional athletes have what modern society dreams of: money, fame, bodies that are the epitome of human fitness.  So what do they do?

            

They eat the fruit.

            

The trait found in human nature of always wanting more is not new, only its examples have become more accessible to the public.  The media, in forms of radio, newspapers, tabloids, television, and the largest global advancement in recent human history, the internet, make it possible to turn matters that athletes at one time may have been able to keep private into a public train wreck for all the world to watch and enjoy as the damage grows, car by car piling up.  The media is somewhat helpful to fans in that it sometimes reveals sides to athletes not shown on the field or court, allowing younger fans especially to realize who is worth idolizing and who is to be cast aside.  The media often fails to recognize, however, that these athletes, portrayed as gods, are humans, and all humans are flawed.  The media then exploits these flaws, delving into the deep corners of athletes' private lives, making their mistakes public and accessible for the judging eyes of the world.  Wrong decisions will be made, some on a larger scale than others, but wrong nonetheless because professional athletes are indeed humans.  The average citizen can look upon a fallen hero with disgust, but then must reflect and truly recognize how he would have handled the situation if it had been him, as man is often quick to judge others before himself.  The media is not the root of athlete's misbehaving, but it is surely the messenger, eager to relay any lapse in judgment or misfortune cast upon a sports icon.

            

Now, it is not fair to condone all professional athletes, as some have shown to be idols worthy of admiration, striving not only for on-field success, but also to better the world around them.  Athletes such as Denver Broncos quarterback Tim Tebow, figure skater Michelle Kwan, and New Orleans Saints quarterback Drew Brees, are among many sports heroes that have proven to be both successful in their respected sport and create a positive off-field influence, that of which younger fans can use as a role model in paths towards their own athletic and life goals.

            

The actions of these seemingly iconic athletes are still too often overshadowed, however, by those whose lives are exploited in turn by their poor moral choices, their human choices.  Professional athletes rise to the top.  They practice behavior that is questionable, as they are able to get what they want when they want it: their money and fame gives them this ability, fabricates the sense of entitlement in their minds.  And when they have what they want, as humans do, they take more.  This acquisition of these temptations is made public faster than Tiger Wood's golf swing. 

            

"But, still, I know I have severely disappointed all of you.  I have made you question who I am and how I have done the things I did.  I am embarrassed that I have put you in this position.  For all that I have done, I am so sorry.  I have a lot to atone for."

            

Tiger Woods has apologized.  So have many of these other sports stars, fallen from the heavens, crashing painfully to the pitfalls of the media.  It is fact, however, that apologies are actually just words.

            

To the eleven year old boy at home with the Tiger Woods poster taped to his wall, words do not speak as loud as actions.