Joe Paterno was a football coach. 409-136-3. Two national championships.

Does that tell the story?

When trustee John Surma announced Paterno’s firing, the anger in State College was palpable. Almost immediately, thousands of students gathered in the streets of a college town on a previously quiet Wednesday night, some angry enough to overturn a news truck. Many asked, “How could they fire our coach? How did they fire JoePa?”

“I was laying in bed that night shaking,” Penn State trustee Ira Lubert told The New York Times last week. “And I couldn’t sleep — thinking: We just terminated Joe Paterno.”

Twenty-five Football Bowl Subdivision college football programs have changed their head coach for the 2012 season. It’s difficult to imagine that more than one of those changes kept grown men up at night.

For better or for worse, Joe Paterno was an icon. A personification of Penn State. A symbol of the university’s successes and a figurehead for its failings.

How did the legend of JoePa start? Maybe it was football. Paterno was a successful coach, after all.

Some will remember him for his signature wins — the 1987 Fiesta Bowl upset over 7-point-favorite Miami to win the national championship perhaps, or the 2010 comeback from 21 points down against Northwestern for Paterno’s 400th win.

And consider what Paterno’s fellow coaches said about him.

“Joe Paterno is college football,” Northwestern coach Pat Fitzgerald said in the run-up to their 2010 matchup.

Then-Florida coach Urban Meyer said the same thing before Penn State faced the Gators in that year’s bowl game. Perhaps it was Paterno’s approach to teaching student-athletes that elevated the octogenarian.

Much has been written about his “Grand Experiment” — Paterno’s effort to mold young football players into men by the time they left his program.

Paterno’s record as an educator is widely praised, though he did receive criticism for his discipline of several players under his charge who were arrested, including a string of high-profile arrests in 2007.

During his head-coaching tenure, 87 percent of Paterno’s players graduated, his program never faced any NCAA sanctions and Paterno’s former players are near-unanimous in their praise of their coach.

Or maybe it was Paterno’s philanthropy that led to the escalation of his status beyond that of his peers?

The coach and his wife, Sue, donated more than $4 million to his university, including a recent $100,000 donation — made weeks after his firing. That money was divided between the section of the Penn State library bearing his name and a liberal arts fellowship program, also tagged with the Paterno name.

Most likely, all of these reasons came into play. A prevailing idea of Paterno’s selflessness combined with his successes on and off the field, coinciding with the rise of Pennsylvania State University to national prominence during the coach’s 46-year tenure, spanning the stints of 13 U.S. presidents.

There is a sense among many that Paterno built Penn State from the ground up.

“When I first went to school a lot of people thought Penn State University was the University of Pennsylvania,” former Penn State linebacker Jack Ham said after Paterno’s 400th win. “It didn’t have an identity and Joe put this university on the map way back when.”

The idea is that Paterno gave Penn State its raison d’être.

The prevailing wisdom is that without Paterno, Penn State would still be a farmer’s high school without the lofty goal of ‘Success With Honor’ that the athletic department pitched and students proudly proclaimed.

“It was all about integrity, the university, the people and the team,” former Penn State offensive line coach Dick Anderson said in 2010. “For Joe, it’s not about himself. I think personally, I don’t know if there is anybody in the history of Penn State that has done more for Penn State University than Joe Paterno.”

Consider the statue of Paterno, standing east of the stadium where the coach won his fame.

The statue, erected in 2001, 10 years before the end of Paterno’s tenure as coach, stands as a monument to the man as a leader and an icon. A running Paterno holds his right index finger aloft, indicating No. 1, as he leads four anonymous players.

Countless times, Paterno’s influence on his team was questioned, whether it was his spot in the press box seeming to indicate a decrease in hands-on coaching or a string of arrests undermining the Grand Experiment. But “Joe Knows Football” shirts multiplied still, and the chants of his name continued to ring in Beaver Stadium.

The statue stands as ever, at this moment decorated with tribute to the late coach. Paterno remains a symbol, his status as an icon intact.

The same cannot be said for Paterno’s previously spotless reputation, which has come under fire from all sides.
“In my mind [the removal] was based on a moral fiber issue as a member of Penn State,” trustee Keith Masser said. “If I had allowed him to retire at the end of the season versus immediately, it would send a message that we value football over children — and that is not Penn State.”

Trustee Joel Myers’ words were similar, and lay bare the iconic importance that has been assigned to Paterno for decades — more than a man, more than a coach, a symbol.

“We thought for the good of Penn State that this action had to be taken immediately,” Myers said. “It couldn’t appear that the football program was operating independently.”

Paterno’s de facto status as a leader of Penn State — not just the football team — was always the measure of the man to the public.

Former players say Paterno never let his reputation go to his head. They say that he always focused on the players and their success rather than his own iconic status.

“I can honestly say that I don’t think he thought about that at all,” former Penn State defensive lineman Gerald Cadogan said. “He was very humble with all of his awards and achievements.”

But there can be no doubt — Paterno knew what he meant to Penn State.

Standing on the field after his 400th win, Paterno absorbed the adulation of the crowd and spoke a few telling words.

“People ask me why I’ve stayed here so long,” Paterno said, “and you know what, look around, look around.”

Last week, only a little more than a year later, Paterno again had no choice but to reflect on his status as Penn State’s patron deity.

“Whether it’s fair I don’t know, but they do it,” Paterno told the Washington Post. “You would think I ran the show here.”