RAMSEY: Remembering the sad end of Paterno's triumphant life

Doug Wert was at Academy Christian Church, preparing for his Sunday morning choir performance, when the news arrived on his cell phone:

Joe Paterno was dead.

“I had some immediate sadness,” Wert said. “I teared up a little bit. I had to leave the room for a second.”

Many of us will long remember where we were when we heard of Paterno’s departure. There was something almost eternal about the man who had climbed so high only to fall so far and so suddenly. His death ends a tragic tale of biblical proportions.

Wert, general manager of the Sportz Skills Indoor Golf and Tennis Center in the Springs, knew Paterno when the coach was soaring. On a morning in 1998, when Wert was working as general manager of the Penn State golf course, he met the coach/legend.

They talked for several minutes, with Paterno asking most of the questions. He wanted to know about Wert’s family. He wanted to know about Wert’s job. Paterno ranked among the most famous men in Pennsylvania, but he was genuinely curious.

For the next five years, whenever Wert encountered Paterno, the coach asked about his family. He asked about Wert’s wife, Wendy, by name. He asked about the Wert’s young children.

These have been bitter months for those who love and respect Paterno. By his own admission, Paterno made a massive, indefensible mistake in his handling of the Jerry Sandusky child abuse scandal. The coach who served as such a vibrant leader stepped back and did nothing.

This error in judgment, this lack of courage, cost the coach dearly. He was fired, ending 46 seasons as head man along with 16 as an assistant. For many, Paterno’s legacy forever will be defined by his misdeed.

Wert has a different view.

“His legacy?” Wert asked before quickly answering. “I don’t see it as complicated. Not at all. I just don’t. I see the legacy as very positive. He has touched so many lives and so many men who played football for him.”

I don’t fully agree with Wert. Paterno’s reputation always will be polluted by his refusal to intervene in the horrific mess surrounding Sandusky. Someone needed to step forward, and that someone could have been Paterno.

That someone should have been Paterno.

Paterno reveals that even a great man isn’t always great. The tragedy of Paterno’s life is he departed before he could seek atonement for his grave error. If Paterno had been blessed with another decade, I believe he would have used those years working diligently to make amends.

But he never got the chance. And that saddens me.

I spent Sunday morning thinking about my brief encounter with Paterno. In 1987, I met Paterno in a hallway at Syracuse University’s Carrier Dome. His Nittany Lions were the reigning kings of college football after a perfect, national championship season in 1986.

This was a painful afternoon for Paterno. He had just been clobbered, 48-21, by Syracuse’s rising football team. Immediately after the game, he walked unannounced into SU’s locker room, faced a room of startled players and said,

“Great game, guys! Best of luck! Keep the national title here in the East.”

And then he walked out.

I saw him a few minutes later. He was rushing down a hall, obviously seeking to escape the Dome as soon as possible.

The Dome is a strange place. Manmade winds swirl around, leaving a weird vacuum effect in the building. Sometimes it is virtually impossible to open doors.

I knew this. Joe did not.

He grabbed the knob of his exit door. He turned the knob and tried to open the door. It would not budge. He turned to me, his eyes ablaze behind his thick glasses.

“How do you open this damn door?” he asked.

I told him to wait a couple of seconds, which he did.

Then he pulled the door open and stepped outside.

Who could have possibly known where he was heading?

Twitter: @davidramz

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