Joe Paterno was a hero. A Brooklyn boy, a family man, and a philanthropist, Joe was an intelligent, successful coach who for decades led a football program in which team was paramount, individual glory secondary. No players’ names adorned the simple blue-and-white uniforms. At my wedding in 1973, Father Vesey spoke of Joe, who had recently turned down National Football League riches and prestige, as an example of mission being more important than money. Standing at the altar in my tux, I vowed to follow that ideal and pursue a life of good works rather than a co-op overlooking Central Park. Oh well.
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