Joe Paterno: Make 2008 Your Best and Last Year

Joe Paterno is Penn State, make no mistake about it.

Those sansabelt pants—always riding a bit too high on the waist—and those thick, eerily yellowed, rimmed glasses are comfort food for college football fans of any team.

He's in his 80s and has already proven he can take a hit to the leg and break it without screaming and writhing in pain.  He's a tough old bird.

Joe Pa is like an old friend.  You expect him to be on the sidelines forever—it seems like he has been there forever.

But there comes a time when you need to exit gracefully—when your achievements are on a high note, not a low one.

Ali retired too late—he lost in a 10-round unanimous decision to Trevor Berbick in his last fight.  Mike Tyson was another fighter who just didn't want to throw in the towel when it was obvious his heart was not in it, but his mouth was.

While both fighters had great records, and no one will ever question their prowess in the ring during their peak, they stayed too long.

What about Joe Pa?

The emotional part of his impending retirement is that, like Bear Bryant, football is his life.  It has kept him young and given his life a purpose.  Retiring may speed up the circle of life.  But right now, everybody still loves Joe Paterno, and this is why this year should be his last.

While Joe Paterno's ability to coach looks to be top-notch as usual, the ability to relate to the younger generation may have started to take its toll.

Today's recruits aren't interested in having a "nice little team this year."  They want huge exposure, gaudy numbers, and that crystal trophy to kiss in early January.  The Rose Bowl is no longer the ultimate goal.  They want it all.

It is here where Joe Pa's stock drops off a bit.  While Paterno is charming and intelligent, and has a wicked Brooklyn-accented humor, he can't hold a candle to the energy level of a Les Miles, Pete Carroll, or Urban Meyer.

While Paterno is talking in quaint terms about schemes, Carroll is taking high dives off swimming platforms and watching beach volleyball games with his team.  Miles is selling his team's tough road in the SEC and firing up Baton Rouge, and Meyer is almost caffeined-out-of-his-mind talking about Harvin or Tebow.

The energy is palpable.  The players feel it, react to it, and want to be a part of it.  Energy.

Paterno has certainly been one of the greatest coaches of all time, and depending how Bowden does at Florida State, could be the greatest—he's one win behind Bowden.

Paterno has taken a sleepy area of central Pennsylvania and brought football prestige to the state.  He has made Happy Valley the place to be every Saturday.  Unfortunately, those highly-touted kids who once dreamed of playing for Joe Pa are now bypassing Penn State and choosing other Big Ten schools—or SEC schools.

While some coaches now have private helicopters to visit highly-touted recruits and hold their hands during their high school senior years, Paterno elected to personally visit only one high school recruit in the last year—Terrelle Pryor.

Some may argue it's hard for him to travel, that he doesn't need to make home visits, or that the school should sell itself.  That used to be true, but not anymore.

When Rutgers coach Greg Schiano lands his private helicopter on a high school football field to recruit a football player, the "wow" factor is there.  Just how many teenagers are going to be impressed by that?  In this age of "You're lucky to get me, Coach," rather than "Gee, coach, can I play for your team?", Paterno loses out.

While we don't ever want him to change, Penn State football does need to change.

Times have changed.  The era of Rudy is gone.

It is no longer a privilege to get recruited by a Michigan, Ohio State, USC, or LSU.  If you are one of the best players in the nation, you hold all the cards in the recruiting game, and the coaches are falling over themselves to convince you that their team is the one you should commit to.  It used to be the other way around.

Values are gone.  What once was a commitment is now a "hold your breath until after signing day and see if his verbal holds up."

Paterno is old school.  Values, ethics, character, and discipline are all qualities that he holds close to the vest.  Paterno's country-like atmosphere around State College may bode well for some coal miners' sons' dreams, but the reality is that it isn't reaching into a lot of five-star prepsters' hearts.  They are leaving the state.

In this day of high-tech communication, instant gratification, and questionable recruiting tactics, Paterno won't play that game.  He would rather sit down with a recruit over a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs at the kitchen table and talk Penn State.

It's a shame how this football world has changed—Joe Pa has been squeezed out by big money, glitzy helicopters, and yes, younger coaches.

When Paterno started coaching at Penn State, there were no swag bags for each player when they went to the Rose Bowl.  Wasn't the prospect of playing in the "Granddaddy of them All" enough of a prize?

Now it's a bag full of iPods, laptops, GPS devices, and Blackberrys.  Heart to heart talks don't mean anything anymore—texting is the way to communicate.

While coaching has never escaped Joe Pa—his mind is sharp as a tack—progress in recruiting has.  And while no one will ever ask Paterno to step down, the rumors have started that this will be his final year.  No contract extension.

And then there is this:

''Mr. Paterno told me himself that his replacement is already within the staff, so he'll just bring one new guy in and bump everybody up in the ranks,'' Nittany Lion LB recruit Mike Yancich said.  ''Coaching stability is not going to be any big deal at Penn State."

Joe Pa, you are a legend.  You are loved by all, and no one wants you to go out on anything but your own terms.  But all great legends eventually retire.

Retirement is like finding your first gray hair—you can pluck it out, color your hair, or wear a hat to cover it up, but the bottom line is that it's still there.  And it's not going away.  It's multiplying.  Eventually, you just have to give in.

It will be hard, but your love of Penn State will overcome your desire to continue coaching.  It's time to pass the torch.

Make this season your legacy. No one is giving Penn State much of a chance to win the Big Ten, so make it count.  The thought of seeing your players carry you off the field on their shoulders after a stellar season will give us shudders.

Give us a National Championship.

And when it's all over, I'll have a plate of pasta and cannolis waiting for ya.

I can't think of anything more special than sitting down with one of the greatest coaches of all time and sharing some good-old fashioned football talk.  I'll even sit on your porch with a glass of lemonade while you mow your lawn, and soak up that "too country" Pennsylvania air.

I'll leave my Blackberry at home.