As the final seconds ticked off the Alamodome scoreboard in Penn State's unexpected 24-0 thrashing of Texas A&M in last year's Alamo Bowl, Jerry Sandusky was swept away for the ride of his life.

Riding the shoulders of his latest class of superstar defenders — including linebackers Brandon Short, LaVar Arrington and Mac Morrison — who had just held the Aggies to 202 total yards, the Dean of Linebacker U soared off the field.

"It was a very emotional experience," Sandusky said. "Mixed emotions, excited about what happened and feeling good for the players and everybody, but also very emotional in the sense that that was the last game."

Every coach dreams of an ending like this one.

A 34-year coaching career capped off with the taste of victory one final time. And, for a defensive coordinator, what better way to exit?

"What else could you have asked for?" Sandusky said with a smile. "A shutout; I didn't expect it. I didn't really think we could do that, but we did it."

And with his wife and five of his six adopted children looking on from the stands and the sidelines, the reward was almost more than he could handle.

"I think it was very important to him," said Sandusky's wife, Dottie. "And it was a very emotional game for all of us. It was a great experience, and I just think after what the boys had been through all season that it was such a great way for them to go out too."

No matter how much the family had prepared for that day, it was impossible for them to predict their reactions.

"It was really emotional for me," said his son, Jon, a reserve defensive back on last year's squad.

"I had my camera on the sidelines. I was ready for the moment, but I was taking pictures and holding back tears at the same time. It was like a quick flash of all the great wins. Then, I was like 'Wow, I can't believe it's coming to an end.'"

"He coached at Penn State longer than I've been alive," said Sandusky's daughter, Kara Werner. "We were supportive, but it was still sad to see his career end."

So after 32 years at his alma mater, where he devised defensive schemes for future first-round draft picks, national defensive players of the year and Hall-of-Fame inductees, coached in 28 bowl games and won numerous awards, it was time for the defensive coordinator to say goodbye.

"It was just a very emotional occasion, knowing that that was the last time you'd walk in the locker room like that," the 56-year-old coach said. "It was touching.

"That chapter had come to an end."

And another had begun.

Ah, retirement

Without taking as much as a day off to rest or reflect on his accomplishments, Sandusky was off and running again.

"He's always on the go and his mind's always turning with something new," Mrs. Sandusky said. "I'm the kind of person that would rather sit around and enjoy things the way they are, and he's the kind of person that's always looking for something different to do."

His day might be less regimented without the responsibilities that come with coaching a Division I powerhouse, but Sandusky keeps himself busy.

During his first summer as a retiree, he directed football camps for boys (grades 4-9) at Albright, Delaware Valley and Penn State Erie.

He then had four more weeks of camps for The Second Mile, a non-profit organization Sandusky started in 1982 to help underprivileged children. It now serves more than 100,000 boys and girls each year.

Since then, he has been on the road often, making appearances and raising money for the organization. In October, he put the finishing touches on a book, "Touched," about his experiences in coaching and with The Second Mile.

When he's not traveling, Sandusky gets up early to work out. Then, he'll swing by his office, hidden away in the old Lasch Building, which is connected to the Greenberg Sports Complex.

While in the tiny office, decorated with pictures, plaques, news clippings and a bronzed shoe that he wore as a midget football player, Sandusky checks his voice mail and returns the most important calls (his calls are still filtered through the football office, across the street at the new state-of-the-art Lasch Building).

The 6-foot-2, white-haired coach seems at peace behind the small desk. With each telephone conversation, his constant grin gets a little wider, and with every mention of The Second Mile, the smile enlarges and his blue eyes glitter.

From there, Sandusky makes the trek over to The Second Mile office (1402 S. Atherton St.) for meetings about programs, fund-raising, endowment planning and other important issues. Prior to heading home for dinner at 5:30 or 6, Sandusky spends time with Second Mile kids participating in the organization's various programs.

"I planned on life being hectic," he said, "but I probably exceeded my expectations."

He does have more time for himself on weekends, though.

"I have a little more control over my schedule," he said. "Obviously, during the season you go seven days a week, so I'm not working as much. Although sometimes on weekends I've had speaking engagements and things like that, and I've been able to see our son's team play at Albright College."

Sandusky's oldest son, E.J., now 30 years old, has been the head football coach at Albright since 1997. Formerly a walk-on center for Penn State, he began his coaching career with a graduate assistantship at North Carolina and then a full assistantship at Western Carolina.

In his first season at Albright, E.J. guided the Lions to a 9-1 record, their second straight MAC Commonwealth League championship and the ECAC Southeast Region title.

When Sandusky hasn't been in the Albright stands or on the road for the weekend, he has made it a point to attend Penn State home games.

But after spending so many years on the sidelines, he has trouble watching from a typical fan's point of view.

"I probably approach it more from a coaching standpoint," Sandusky said. "As a coach, you really have to be careful not to get overly excited because you have to think about the next thing. I'm programmed that way right now. So, I'm thinking all the time as I'm watching the game."

As for away games, the former coach usually watches them, too — from the country blue and cream-colored couch in his living room.

"It was weird the first time," he said. "Even our dogs (three mutts — Staush, Justice and Apollo) were looking at me strange, like what was I doing at home?"

Mrs. Sandusky added: "They couldn't understand why Penn State was on TV and Jerry was sitting there."

They weren't the only ones.

Decision time

As he pondered his choices, Sandusky himself had trouble picturing life without Penn State football.

For more than three decades, his bend-but-don't-break defense seemed to fit in so perfectly with the Lions powerful rushing attack, plain white helmets and nameless jerseys.

But with two different retirement options available to longtime Penn State employees, one for 2000 and one for 2005, Sandusky had to seek out a decision with which he felt comfortable.

"I still love coaching," he said. "But when I looked at everything and thought about everything, I just wasn't absolutely sure that over a period of five years I would have the same feelings and enthusiasm for what I was doing. I couldn't guarantee that, and the last thing I wanted to do was go in and just put in time. So when I looked at that, I said it's probably best that I do it now."

The decision wasn't an easy one, though.

"He didn't sleep for weeks," Kara said.

"We spent many nights talking it over," Jon said. "It was a way of life, and to have it not there, it's a whole change in lifestyle. He had so many good times, and to recognize he may never coach again was pretty tough on him."

After almost a year of hashing and rehashing the repercussions of such a permanent change, Sandusky thought he'd finally made his decision.

He was going to retire.

When he called to let Tim Curley in on his choice, however, the Penn State athletic director was out of the office.

So Sandusky hung up the phone and went back to the high school football camp going on outside.

"Now, this is really hitting me," Sandusky said, "and I actually became very emotional. Tears start coming. And the players, they have no idea. I'm actually trying to talk to them and give them techniques and things like that, and they don't have a clue what's going on in my life.

"So then, when practice was over, I got ahold of Tim and I said, 'I'm going to do it.' And he said, 'how do you feel?' and I said, 'I feel terrible.' So he said, 'You can wait.' I still had probably a little less than 24 hours before I had to make my decision. He said 'You still have some time. You might want to think about it.' "

So he did.

But just a few hours later, Sandusky was more comfortable with his decision and made it final.

"As emotional as I was about that football camp, I have the same feelings at Second Mile camps and other things that I do that I couldn't do as much of before," he said. "So I said, 'I've got to divorce myself from that. That shouldn't be a factor because I have the same feelings at other times too."

After years of carrying his playbook with him at all times so he could update it at a moment's notice, he was willingly putting it down.

But, just because he was through coaching at Beaver Stadium, it didn't mean he was through coaching. Football has done too much for the Sandusky family for him to let it go fully.

It's just not the main focus of his time anymore.

"He has a lot of energy, wisdom and knowledge that he can share," Jon said, "but he seems happy. He's been keeping himself busy."

Missing person

In his first year away from Penn State, Sandusky has been too busy to think about the past.

"I haven't really looked back very much," he said. "I kind of hit the ground running, and have been moving forward ever since."

Plus, there are so many things about coaching not to miss — practices, film sessions, coaches' meetings, pre-game talks, post-game interviews. It's a never-ending cycle that begins again every Sunday.

"On game day, sitting in Beaver Stadium, you always kind of wish you were down there on the sidelines," Sandusky said. "And then there are things during the course of the week that you don't miss -- the meetings and stuff like that. You like to be in the action, but I don't miss Sunday meetings.

"I do like the stress of game day though. I'll always love that."

There was one occasion that really forced Sandusky think about what he left behind.

When Adam Taliaferro went down with a neck injury in the final minutes of the Ohio State game on Sept. 23, Sandusky, although he had never met the freshman defensive back, wondered if his presence would be helpful.

"That was the one time I missed coaching, he said. "I missed being a part of Penn State football because I felt like I wanted to be there and because those are the times maybe you're needed — in the most difficult times. That was the one time I did look back."

But that's the kind of person Sandusky is. He always has cared about people more than football — something that has carried over to everyone with whom he's come in contact.

"Of course we've missed him," said defensive end Justin Kurpeikis, who played his first game in Washington, Pa., on Sandusky Field (named for Jerry's father). "Coach Sandusky not only taught you how to be the best player you could be, but also the best person you could be. And he did that by example."

"To him, football players were more important as people," said Fran Fisher, the former play-by-play man for the Penn State Radio Network. "He took an interest in them on and off the field. It's kind of cliché, but he personifies that. That's not an overstatement. He is a role model."

That's what the Lions miss most about their former coach.

"You don't replace guys like that who have made their mark and left a legacy," Curley said. "And he definitely has left a legacy here at the university, not only coaching great linebackers and coaching great defenses, but also from all of the other things that he's done to help young people to make the most out of their lives."

Penn State fans also have missed Sandusky's presence on the sidelines. Many of them probably link his absence to the lack of wins this season. Penn State's 5-7 mark was the worst of the Paterno era, and the Lions had not lost seven games since 1931 when they were 2-8.

"They (people on the street) all say nice things," he said. "I'm a lot smarter this year than I was last year — in terms of football anyway."

Throughout the season, fans asked him about Penn State's struggles. To the loyal enthusiasts' chagrin, even he didn't have the answers they were seeking.

"I wouldn't have the answers if I was coaching," he said. "I'm not sure people realize that."

What they do realize, though, is that he cares.

The Second Mile

Sandusky, who is known for his unselfishness, always has worked for the benefit of others.

In 1977, Sandusky's 10th year at Penn State, he decided to create his own charity organization in State College. The original vision was a foster home for children whose parents had died or were unfit to care for them. By 1982, the plan had evolved into The Second Mile.

"I knew I wanted to work with young people in some way," Sandusky said. "And coaching was a great way, but also in the back of my mind was to do more. That grows out of my growing years and then out of our own family because we had foster kids and saw some lives changed and then said, 'how could we do more?'"

At that time, The Second Mile served about 45 kids, making it possible for Sandusky to spend the day with the football players and coaches, devising defensive schemes, watching film and instructing, as well as much of his free time with Second Mile children.

As the coach put in more time with the youngsters and pitched the cause to more people, the organization began to grow by leaps and bounds.

"He was a catalyst," said his son, Ray, "and his vision caught on with others. And their interest became as rabid as his. Everybody got involved and really got active with it."

As the years went by, interest accelerated. Sandusky began making public appearances to solicit donations. He began holding golf tournaments, parades and haunted house adventures to bring in the money necessary to hire full-time employees, to plan outings with the kids and to expand on the services already offered by the organization.

"It's absolutely unbelievable that it grew into the organization it is today," Fisher said. "He has to be very proud. People believed in it because he did. His motive was to help children, and people rallied around that."

The Second Mile now has 18 full-time employees, not counting event counselors, camp counselors, tutors and a large volunteer force that Sandusky himself can't assign a number to.

"We've had so many people come forward to do so many things," he said. "And the programs have grown and the budget continues to grow.

"Our fundraising goal for this year is $2 million."

Included in the volunteer corps are about 200 Penn State students involved in the Friend Program, which, like Big Brothers/Big Sisters, pairs a college student with a Second Mile youngster for games of tag, miniature golf, bowling and swimming as well as for parties and picnics.

"The kids seem to be very enthusiastic about the program," said Mike Gallo (sophomore, political science), a Friends Program volunteer. "They are always happy to see us and can be disappointed if we don't show up. We have an obligation to be there for them."

However, Sandusky always has enjoyed spending individual time with the kids as well — not just in large groups.

Sometimes, he would go to their football or soccer games. Other times, Second Mile children would join the Sandusky family for dinner or go to their house to watch television or play video games. Also, if he could get someone to sponsor them, a child would accompany Sandusky to a bowl game.

Since his retirement, Sandusky has been able to have children join him at nearly every Penn State home game.

Rather than sit in the press box with his wife, he uses the alumni seats they purchased when his children were young for Second Mile kids.

"On a game day, he'll go get six, seven, eight kids and take them to the game," Mrs. Sandusky said. "And they come and tailgate with us, and then he sits out in the stands with them. Then, they'll all come back over and have dinner and play a touch football game or something."

Sandusky also took Second Mile kids to training camp for the Washington Redskins this summer and later to the Redskins – Philadelphia Eagles game at Veterans Stadium.

He is quick to point out, though, that what he does with the kids — whether it's playing board games, bowling or shooting pool — doesn't matter as much as just being with them.

That's the foundation of The Second Mile — to give underprivileged youngsters a taste of what others may consider a "normal life."

One man, who grew up in foster home after foster home following his parents' death, told Mrs. Sandusky that he didn't know if he would've made it through life without the Second Mile.

"He said, 'the Second Mile is the wind beneath my wings,' and he really credits Jerry and the Second Mile for what they have done for him," she said.

Not to mention what he's done for those carrying the Sandusky name.

"I am more proud of him for being the founder-leader of this organization than for being a football coach," said Ray, who, before his adoption by Sandusky, was the first "test" of The Second Mile.

"His football success has been awesome, but that was his occupation. This is his passion. I feel so selfish that I haven't done anything like that in my life — yet. That's what makes him feel more accomplished and more fulfilled with himself."

The first mile

Sandusky learned at an early age the kind of fulfillment one can get from helping others.

Born Jan. 26, 1944, to Art and Evelyn Sandusky, the Washington, Pa., native spent much of his young life at his parents' recreation center, The Brownson House.

"I had a great experience growing up at that recreation center," he said. "I was able to be around people who maybe weren't very big in the eyes of the world, but were really very special to me. Many of them had been rejected by society. They were handicapped, physically and mentally, and I saw the impact that my parents had made on a lot of the kids. I'm a frustrated playground director, really, because that's probably what I enjoy the most. So, I feel very fortunate that I was able to grow up like that."

He also enjoyed the sports and games he played at the center.

"There were so many kids who were at the recreation center," Sandusky said, "so there was always something to do."

He played kickball, football, baseball, soccer — every sport imaginable. By the time Sandusky was about 10, it was apparent that athletics always would be special to him.

"I was always around athletics, so that was a big part of my life," he said. "I remember my fourth-grade teacher going around the room and predicting what everyone would be, and she predicted I'd be a coach.

"It was probably because I came to school every day with a ball of some sort."

From then on, coaching was something he aspired to do.

A standout athlete and student at Washington High School, he came to Penn State in 1962 to play football.

He earned three letters, started at defensive end for three seasons and earned bachelor's and master's degrees in health and physical education in 1966 and 1970, respectively. More impressively, he graduated first in his class and served as student marshal for his college at commencement.

And during summer vacation in 1965, he met Dottie.

Originally from Chattanooga, Tenn., she was staying with a friend and her family in Washington when Sandusky and a friend came to pick up an old couch for the recreation center, which also had a thrift shop. They hit it off immediately.

"He was a fun kind of person," she said, "and I enjoyed sports. He was playing softball and I got to go to his games, and I always loved football."

In 1966, they were married.

After serving as a graduate assistant at Penn State that season, Sandusky joined the Juniata coaching staff for a year. He served as the assistant football, basketball and track coach. Then, for one season, he was the offensive line coach at Boston University.

By the time the 1969 season rolled around, though, Sandusky was back in Happy Valley.

There was something about State College and his alma mater that provided the perfect place to build a family.

After two years of marriage, he and Dottie were ready to have kids. While they were unable to have children of their own, the couple turned to adoption.

Starting in 1969, they adopted E.J., Kara and Jon — all as infants. Then came Jeff, Ray and Matt — adopted at ages 8, 13 and 18, respectively. During that time, the Sanduskys took in numerous foster children as well as having football players and coaches over for dinner or for a meeting every now and then.

"My parents just did a really good job — especially for a football family," Jon said. "There were a lot of stressful times for them, and they never really showed stress outwardly to the family. But we lived, breathed and died football. It was a pretty fun family."

Although it was often difficult for Sandusky to get away from the football scene, he still managed to have the energy to make an impact in the home.

Always home for a family breakfast and dinner, Sandusky ran a strict household. He tried to make sure the kids' homework was done and their household responsibilities taken care of, but always left plenty of time for fun.

No matter how little time he had, the head of the household was always ready to throw the football around, have a little wrestling match, play kickball or a board game with the family.

"Even though he's 56, he loves to act like a kid," Jon said. "He never lost the kid in him — even in the most stressful times. He kept things in perspective, and you could always look to him to cheer you up."

His playful spirit might have been most evident at Kara's wedding, which took place in August 1997 at Tussey Mountain.

After the vows were exchanged, the guests didn't take to the dance floor or the dinner table. Instead, because of Sandusky's influence, everyone changed clothes afterwards so they could play kickball, volleyball or horseshoes.

"I always said we were going to do this, and it actually happened," Sandusky said that day.

"It was the highlight of the wedding for him," said Kara, who always had dreamed of a more typical wedding. "And it was neat for us. That way we touched upon something everyone enjoys."

Now, Kara has a little boy that the former coach can't take his eyes off of.

He hugs him, tickles him and swings him in the air every time he sees him. And as young Christian grows up, Sandusky will play Chutes and Ladders, Ping-Pong and kickball with him just as he has with his own kids and tens of thousands of Second Mile youngsters.

"I want to be remembered mostly for the fact that I cared and I got involved in things bigger than myself and reached out and extended myself to other people," Sandusky said.

That's a legacy that will long outlive his accomplishments on the gridiron.