Paterno into eternity

Joe Paterno didn’t die of lung cancer. He died of heartbreak.

Regardless of what you, I or anyone else thinks about his role in the Jerry Sandusky scandal, it’s indisputable that Paterno loved coaching at Penn State. It was literally his entire life. And I’m convinced he always thought he was doing what was right, even when he wasn’t. And that, in combination with his sudden, jarring downfall, was simply too much to overcome for him. Lung cancer is an evil beast, but the will to live is also a powerful force.

Paterno was a Charles Schultz type — someone so iconic and prolific in their field that it’s impossible to imagine them doing anything else. And like with Schulz, who died just hours before the publication of his final strip, forces of nature couldn’t even withstand the prospect of seeing Paterno outside his element.

We all know someone like that. For me, it was the college track coach at the University of Louisiana, Charles Lancon. He was a local high school legend, having coached from 1957 to 1989, after which he retired. And by retiring, I mean he took the helm of a Division I NCAA college program and led them to more championship trophies than the office had shelf space. He always said each passing year would be his last, but he always came back. (He didn’t do it for the money, either; as a retiree of the school system, he earned something like $9,000 per year.) And even after practice was officially over, he’d often mentor middle- and high school runners just for kicks. Few could imagine him not coaching. He died of a heart attack in 2002, in the middle of track season. It was during a rare weekend off.

I wonder sometimes if I’m going to be one of those guys. Retirement is one of those things my generation rarely considers, both because it’s a long way off and because we’re cynical about the possibility of ever doing so. Even before the economy tanked, I never saw myself as someone who would just go fishing at some point. For better or for worse, I felt like someone who would never stop. I hate to quit anything, and when I do, it’s usually because time or eligibility runs out on it.

Paterno, no doubt, would have wanted a better ending to his career and life. Far from being someone whose work killed him, it seemed to kill him not to work. Because for him, work was special and life-affirming. For all the scandal that swirled around him at the end, he made a positive difference in thousands of lives. That shouldn’t be forgotten. I hope before the end he realized it hadn’t been.

I hope that one day I can channel the passion that each of these men had and carry it with me off into a sunset many, many sunsets from now. Preferably, on my own terms.