Last night at the Curve Inn in Springfield, Illinois, while watching the Louisville-Pittsburgh basketball game, we kept seeing flashes across the bottom of he screen that the family of Joe Paterno was going to the hospital to see him for the last time.
This morning, I see that he is dead at age 85.
The man had a brilliant career that was marred at its end by a horrendous situation, one that cost him his job (and rightfully so). But I kind of figured that he would not last long whenever the day came that he could not coach his team. It sure didn't.
I never liked Penn State until the time I went to Evanston, Illinois, to see them play Northwestern about ten years ago. I was really impressed when the 75-year-old coach ran onto the field at the head of his team.
We were sitting near the Penn State fans who wanted all sorts of horrible things to happen to him as the team was in the middle of a down time with losing seasons, something they weren't used to under Paterno's leadership.
If they want to know what losing is about, they should have gone to Northern Illinois, where I did.
After that, I became a Penn State and Joe Paterno fan.
So Long Papa Joe. --RoadDog
Being an account of some things I'm interested in, what I'm doing, and reflections on my past, especially music.
Listen to this man. Seven years of college, you know. Trying to reason with 2020 and, now, 2022.
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