Friday, May 13, 2005
By Gene Collier, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Comparative literature insists Joe Paterno doesn't want to play Pitt anymore and hasn't for some time, but that little slice of modern regional folklore can't stand much scrutiny.
For an old coach who can't seem to string five victories across an autumn anymore, you'd figure Paterno would welcome to the schedule the lost object of regular abuse. Paterno is 23-7-1 against Pitt, and, even though Pitt's continuing righteous impatience at the prospect of playing Penn State more on the road than at home is solid in principle, it is wobbly in historical practice. Pitt proved more likely to beat Paterno in Beaver Stadium (4-11) than in Pittsburgh (3-12-1).
"I know people think I'm the bad guy in this," Paterno said at a regularly scheduled Pittsburgh schmooze-off last night at the Duquesne Club. "But I'm not the guy in the black hat. I've always loved coming to Pittsburgh. Coming in here today through McKees Rocks and Robinson Township, places I used to recruit, it brought back a lot of great memories."
Pitt-Penn State, the annual November passion play that bored into the college game's bedrock rivalry structure, is now little more than that, a great memory. It might get a two-year jump start at some point, but it's import is purely historical.
When, in the late 1980s, Penn State first had the temerity to insist on a scheduling imbalance -- six home games for every 10 in the series -- Pitt was thought right to resist. Absolutely. If Penn State is so worried about funding its 28 or 29 other sports, the feeling went, let it cut back a bit on the football budget.
But, even if Penn State later turned the screw again, asking for two Pitt visits for every road trip to Pittsburgh, history will show that Pitt probably should have agreed. Don't tell me Pitt wouldn't be better off with Penn State coming to Heinz Field once every three years than it is putting Youngstown State and its ilk in there thrice annually. Further, the dissolution of the Pitt-Penn State series hurt both schools' recruiting. There was a nearly bottomless reservoir of football talent in Pennsylvania eager to help Pitt whip Penn State or vice versa, but the glory of beating Purdue and Syracuse didn't hold the same allure somehow. Better to be part of the annual Ohio State-Michigan drama or be part of the hallowed spirit of Notre Dame, whatever that is.
But the larger issue today is that the college game continues in a spiraling free-fall that alienates its fan base. When a sport can't even deliver a clear national champion and can't scare up the political skill to sustain traditional rivalries, what place has the regional therapy that was Pitt-Penn State?
"I think about those things a lot, but I don't have any answers," Paterno said. "It worries me that TV has that much say over when we play and how things work. You look at a fine program like Southern Mississippi, forced to play on Thursday nights, all the new combinations and leagues all directed toward TV, and what has it gotten us? Look at the difference between us and basketball. When you talk about the buildup to those NCAA tournament games, we can't even approach that with the BCS. I don't like the BCS."
College football long ago stopped caring about what people like Paterno think. For the past half century and more, few minds have thought through the broadest issues facing the game with more earnest contemplation and insight than he, an intellectual legacy that now is essentially and perilously ignored.
"They've changed the way it works," he said. "In the old days, there was an open [NCAA] convention, and I could go there with a Penn State delegation, make a few speeches, I made some about Proposition 48 [circa 1984], but now there's a board of directors that delivers this 12th game to the schedule by an 8-2 vote.
"Who are the 10 guys? I don't even know who they are. I don't even want a 12th game."
There was a time, though he didn't say as much last night, when Paterno felt in his heart that if he strenuously objected to a direction or a particular position taken by college football, he could get an enlightened hearing from university presidents. Entering his 40th season as a head coach, the opposite has come to be true.
"I have nothing to say anymore," he said. "I used to be able to shoot my mouth off, maybe have some influence. Now my own president has no reason to even call me in because he might be out of the loop as well, although I shouldn't speak for him."
Paterno would just like to speak in a few more winning locker rooms, a lot more actually, this year and next, not likely more. The game might never replace him, but it has long since replaced his wisdom with media synergies and business models.
(Gene Collier can be reached at gcollier@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1283.)
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