It's certainly not the way Paterno wanted to go out. He once envisioned his end, tongue halfway inserted in cheek.
"The perfect ending is you drop dead at the end of the game after you kick the winning field goal," Paterno said in 2007, not long before he was to be inducted into college football's Hall of Fame. "And they carry you off the field and everyone's singing, 'So long, Joe, you've been wonderful.' "
I did not know Joe Paterno. I followed his great programs of the 1980s, attended Penn State in the 1990s, and covered the Nittany Lions for The Inquirer in the 2000s. But as a beat reporter for three seasons, I had a brief peek at the man behind the curtain.
He was not without his faults, this many now know. His handling of the accusations against Jerry Sandusky - which eventually brought down his 61-year run at Penn State - will forever be difficult to reconcile with his many noble accomplishments.
But my memories of Paterno won't have anything to do with the millions he donated to the university or his part in the scandal that ripped Penn State apart. They'll have more to do with his character - mostly good, some bad. But what a character he was.
On Friday nights on the road with the beat guys - "bull sessions," as he liked to call them - Paterno could mesmerize a room. No topic was off-limits - politics, entertainment, history, women - but mostly the subject was football.
When I arrived on the beat in 2006, Paterno was 79 and didn't make every Friday night social. Sometimes he would walk into the room and if he didn't recognize an older, familiar face, he'd just turn and leave. But there were plenty of nights when Paterno stayed and was energized by a particular conversation.
He loved a good argument.
