There's a blue line just off the practice field, from 2:45 to 6:15 p.m., more than 100 men give up any and all personal issues to focus on football.

But what happens when the guy preaching that message must do the same? A coach left standing on the other side of the blue line blowing a whistle when he knows, miles away, his own son needs him.

"One thing coach [Larry] Johnson never does is bring his personal life into the Penn State football building," senior defensive end Jerome Hayes said.

Johnson's son, Kansas City Chiefs' running back Larry Johnson, once again is making headlines -- for all the wrong reasons.

Earlier this week, the former Penn State running back questioned his coach's credentials on his Twitter page and used gay slurs on his page and toward reporters. He has since apologized for the incident.

The Chiefs' running back was suspended until Nov. 9.

"That's just not who we are and not what we believe," Larry Johnson Sr. told the Kansas City Star. "It's not how he was raised. It's tough for me as a father."

Relationships and exams are a couple things to leave once you step foot across that blue line. But family rules above all.

One day before Joe Paterno was set to coach against Syracuse in 1977, his son David was hospitalized following a near-fatal trampoline accident.

Paterno did not coach.

After the game, before addressing his team after the loss, Frank Maloney, the Syracuse coach at the time, had his team kneel down and pray for Paterno's son, who did recover.

Johnson's and Paterno's situations are entirely different -- one's a matter of life and death, the other is a disciplinary issue.

But parents, whether they're doctors, lawyers, teachers, custodians or football coaches, share the gift of a child.

Even when that child runs around with $19 million dollars, he needs mom and dad.

Johnson, about to turn 30, certainly fits that bill, and he's lucky to have a father willing to stick by him.

"He does not hate gays," Johnson Sr. told the Star. "That's not Larry, and that's not our family. He's my son. You can't disown him. We just talk to him, listen to him, and help him move forward."

So, forgive Penn State's defensive line coach if he hasn't been entirely focused on Northwestern this week. Clearly, there are more pressing matters than preparing a group to bull-rush linemen and inflict pain on a quarterback.

Whether it's assault charges or underestimating the damaging power of social networking, the elder Johnson has to protect his son, even if football comes second.

Lucky for Penn State, he doesn't see it that way.

"That's Penn State football," said Hayes, who is also a father. "Once 6:15 comes around, you can change gears and focus on those other things, and that's the approach he's taken with what's going on in his situation."

But as Hayes knows, being a parent is an around-the-clock job.