It used to be that I would brag about my alma mater. I would watch an NFL broadcast and would be sure that my school would be mentioned. I could click on Sports Center and watch a fellow alum throwing down a thunderous dunk and smile with pride. I would tell story after story of my magical sophomore year when Carmelo Anthony, Hakim Warrick, and Gerry McNamara led the Orangemen to the National Title. I was so proud that I even named my team of 6th grade students the Orange team in honor of my alma mater. Once a year, when Boston College would play Syracuse in football, I would wear my blue tie dotted with hundreds of Syracuse S’s to counter a fellow teacher’s B.C outfit. I bled Orange, all the time, and would defend Syracuse against any detractors. Things have changed.
My roommate’s wall is dotted with
pictures, trophies, and rugby paraphernalia, all of it engraved with the symbolic PSU of Penn State. He transferred there from Providence in order
to join a more prestigious rugby program, and helped lead the Nittany Lions to three Sweet Sixteens and one Final Four. He gave
his sweat, blood, and several concussions to the iconic university nestled in
the midpoint of Happy Valley in central Pennsylvania. Every Saturday since he graduated, regardless of his other
obligations, he would set up his computer and tune into the
television broadcast of the Penn State football game. He told stories of almost being run over
by legendary football coach Joe Paterno with his car and bragged of the tailgating and
crowd noise produced on game days. He
has Penn State pillow covers on his bed and a Penn State hat hangs proudly on
his door.
As it happened, we were the only
two people in our group of friends who went to big sports schools. As such, our other friends latched on and
would root for Penn State and Syracuse to succeed. When we started living together earlier this
year, it seemed that our new apartment would a college sports haven. Penn State’s football team was in prime
position to compete for a Big Ten title and the Syracuse Men’s Basketball team
began the season ranked in the top 5 in the nation. We secured a great Direct TV package and were primed for sports watching frenzy.
All of that changed on November 4th
when the Jerry Sandusky sexual abuse story broke after a Grand Jury Indictment. Sandusky, a trusted and longtime assistant of iconic football coach Joe Paterno, was charged with the sexual abuse of numerous
children in and around the Penn State football facility. The story not only shocked the sports world,
but made the cover of newspapers around the nation. When riots ensued in support of Joe Paterno,
my roommate refused to watch. He also didn’t
read the deposition, detailing in horrific fashion the alleged abuse that took
place over nearly twenty years. In fact, he didn’t
speak about the incident at all unless I brought it up, and even then he was guarded and
shamed.
When my roommate did speak he mentioned how
he had used the same locker room and showers mentioned in the deposition while
on the Rugby team. He was familiar with
many of the main characters, including former Athletic Director Tim Curley, who
allegedly covered up the abuse. The
closeness he felt and feels to the entire tragedy has reshaped his love and
passion for his school. He still is
proud of his college, but is less likely to talk about it, or voice his love of
his school. When the coverup instigated by Joe Paterno became clear and he was fired, he told me that it was like finding out Santa Clause was fake, all over again. Paterno, a
man who put his name on dozens of charities, cut players who broke even
the smallest team rules, and had given millions upon millions of dollars to the University, had kept his mouth shut while unspeakable
actions took place under his watch.
In the weeks following the Sandusky
charges, I playfully bragged about how Syracuse would never push controversy
under the table, and ribbed him on how Penn State’s image was forever
tarnished. One morning in early November,
I went to my parent' house for breakfast, opened up the Boston Globe and gasped. ESPN
had broken a story the night before detailing alleged abuse committed by Syracuse University
Assistant Men’s Basketball coach Bernie Fine.
Fine, a trusted assistant of legendary basketball coach Jim Boheim, had allegedly sexually abused several ball boys in the mid 90's. Since the initial allegations, more victims have come forth and Fine was fired from the University.
Coach Boheim has retracted and apologized his initial abrasive comments toward the accusers and has faced speculation that he has been covering up for his longtime coach and friend. Recently, several groups have called for his dismissal due to his comments that the accusers were telling "a thousand lies". Whether or not he is fired is irrelevant at this point. Boheim, the most powerful and highest paid employee at Syracuse, will be forever linked to the scandal and the abuse. In the past week, both he and the University have been cut down at the knees by a monster who sat next to him on the bench for 35 years.
Since this story broke, I have refused to talk or read about it until today. At first, I didn't want to believe that a program and a school that had brought me so much joy could be guilty of such a thing. I know people who are close to the team and have not been able to imagine that the man described in the allegations was the same one I had been told was a "great guy". The hardest part was realizing that my University would forever be linked Fine and his actions. My blue and orange Syracuse hat would always stand for something much bigger and much more sinister than a liberal arts college in central New York.
Coach Boheim has retracted and apologized his initial abrasive comments toward the accusers and has faced speculation that he has been covering up for his longtime coach and friend. Recently, several groups have called for his dismissal due to his comments that the accusers were telling "a thousand lies". Whether or not he is fired is irrelevant at this point. Boheim, the most powerful and highest paid employee at Syracuse, will be forever linked to the scandal and the abuse. In the past week, both he and the University have been cut down at the knees by a monster who sat next to him on the bench for 35 years.
Since this story broke, I have refused to talk or read about it until today. At first, I didn't want to believe that a program and a school that had brought me so much joy could be guilty of such a thing. I know people who are close to the team and have not been able to imagine that the man described in the allegations was the same one I had been told was a "great guy". The hardest part was realizing that my University would forever be linked Fine and his actions. My blue and orange Syracuse hat would always stand for something much bigger and much more sinister than a liberal arts college in central New York.
The sports frenzy that was to be our apartment is now gone, as is our pride in our respective schools. When our alma maters are mentioned we lower our eyes, partially in shame, and partially in denial. Our lenses are forever dirtied by the actions
not only of Bernie Fine and Jerry Sandusky, but by the very universities which
we employed with so much trust and respect.
My Syracuse tie now sits at the back of my tie rack, waiting for a day
when I can wear it without second looks, questions, or shame. His Penn State gear is folded neatly in his
closest waiting for the same. We will
both continue to watch and root for our teams, but the innocent passion is
gone. My guess is that it won’t be back
any time soon.
