Penn State's Joe Paterno latest to leave complicated legacy

When Joe Paterno is eulogized Thursday at a Penn State memorial service, it will mark the end of one of the sadder stories in sports: A seemingly good man whose heart failed in the final scene.

For every famous sports figure who passes away, an impression remains. Ty Cobb died with his spikes flying high, trying to injure opponents, or so his reputation goes. Lou Gehrig died the luckiest man on the face of the earth. Tiger Woods will be remembered as a world-class golfer and philanderer.

But Paterno's legacy will be more complicated. His 61 years as a caring, genuine and successful football coach — who mentored thousands and inspired millions — will likely be overshadowed by the scandal that overtook his university. He will go down as a man who knew of allegations of child sexual abuse by an assistant coach, yet looked away.

The problem isn't just Paterno's sin of omission, but the fact that Americans usually want heroes/villains to be one-dimensional. That way they can put them on display or throw them in the trash, minus the nuances. It's simpler to just capsulize.

It's easy to dislike Carmelo Anthony, unless you've seen him in a locker room full of reporters saying, "Gentlemen, what can I do for you?" and easier still to judge Kobe Bryant by his smirk.

I once entered a baseball clubhouse during the off-season, where I was introduced to Hank Aaron. He barely made eye contact. I imagined he would be ingratiating, or affable, but he was neither. He wasn't impolite, just disinterested, a baseball executive hoping to spend his day uninterrupted.

At the same time, Pete Rose wasn't the monster I expected when he showed up in Salt Lake a few years ago, pleading his case to baseball. I actually found him likable.

Elgin Baylor, my childhood basketball idol, wouldn't allow an interview when he was G.M. for the Clippers, even though I tried numerous times to line something up. I expected him to soar like one of his hanging jumpers. Instead, he was just a quiet, possibly standoffish executive for a dreadful team.

It's complicated. Before allegations of Brett Favre texting pornographic pictures of himself, he had done little if anything to warrant disgust. He was the fortyish guy who still played with admirable youthfulness. He'll probably be remembered as much for the scandal as the touchdowns.