The old man was at it again this week. On his high horse, Penn State football coach Joe Paterno defended his decision to not allow his players to speak to the media at what was supposed to be Orange Bowl Media Day on Wednesday.
A week before finals, a week before the most stressful time of the year, the absence of Nittany Lions at the first opportunity to preview their holiday matchup with Florida State was taken personally by men and women behind cameras and computers, trying to let the public in on the world of Paterno football.
What's the big deal? Apparently, a football coach isn't allowed to look out for the interests of his team. He's supposed to play to the whims of the fickle media mob, impress us with his personality and charm us with his aged charm.
Whenever we want to talk to a player about anything, we're supposed to be allowed to do it, right?
Paterno thinks otherwise, and, frankly, there shouldn't be any problem.
The audience cried out. But it's hard to be a member of the media, they said, when you can't talk to the team you're supposed to be writing and talking about.
There's a job to be done.
People need to know what's going on. Right?
Wrong. Apparently.
"I am only worried about the squad," Paterno said in his own defense. "I have no obligations to you guys. I just want you to understand that."
There's a bigger question at stake here, and this question has no clear, direct answer. What, at its core, is the job of a college football coach? Must he ascribe to the motto of pro-
fessional sports and the culture of "just win, baby" at any costs? Or, is he obligated to his team and only his team?
"I am telling you that I didn't want them here because they have too many things to do," Paterno continued on Wednesday. "I want them concentrating on their studies, and this makes a point. This makes a point."
Let's face it, one of the most enjoyable aspects of being a Penn State football player, aside from the whole playing football and being recognized across campus and throughout the state of Pennsylvania, is pimping one's self and one's football and life skills to us in the great hope of one day earning a living playing football.
But, apparently, there's more to a college athlete than going to practice and talking on national television or watching your game-winning touchdown replayed countless times the following morning on ESPN. There's that key modifying word, "college."
Oh. You mean, Coach, your players don't sit behind a desk for 40 hours a week, go home and relax on the weekends?
No. They have to go to class. If they miss class, the word is spread. This is Penn State after all. There are 40,000 people here working and succeeding or failing, together.
If you aren't one of the nameless thousands, if you are a local celebrity, if you are a football player, the pressure in the classroom is increased. Your success isn't a hope; it's an expectation.
Remember LaVon Chisley, the defensive end who would have received loads of playing time behind Tamba Hali and Matthew Rice this season? He didn't do his part in the classroom, and his team was forced to pick up the slack on the field.
Remember Paul Cronin, the nickelback who was integral against teams earlier in the season? He took it a little too easy on one weekend, and he never hit the field again.
This makes a point. What Penn State student can argue that this past week hasn't been the most stressful period of the semester? Your futures are at stake here. One small snafu and all of your hopes and career plans could be washed away by one final failure.
Make this argument: Paterno's looking out for the interests of all Penn State students bogged down with work. Some of them also have a winter vacation in Miami. There's a light at the end of the tunnel.
