He spent the vast majority of his 85 years being revered for being a God among men. In the end, he showed just exactly how mortal he was.

In November, Joe Paterno was fired. By January, he was dead.

Some, notably former Penn State linebacker Matt Millen, say that Paterno died of a broken heart. Others, notably victim's advocates, maintain he didn't have one.

The final chapter on Joseph Vincent Paterno was written Sunday morning, just over two months after he was unceremoniously dumped by the Penn State Board of Trustees after doing almost nothing substantive to Jerry Sandusky after being told of the terror that he was inflicting on young boys within the confines of the football facilities.

But the entire book on Joe Paterno is a complicated one, because of that final, horrific chapter. There is the camp that will see him nothing more than a monster that helped facilitate Jerry Sandusky's sick perversions. No one will ever be able to convince these people that there is anything else that needs to be said.

Paterno had the power to stop Sandusky and did not do it. Period. End of story.

I understand that sentiment. There is no question, even with Paterno's dying breaths, that he regretted not doing more. Even with the falls from grace of O.J. Simpson and Tiger Woods, Paterno's is far and away the most dramatic in North American sports history.

But for as abhorrent as Paterno's inactions were in regards to Sandusky, he did do great things elsewhere.

Joe Paterno was Penn State University. He donated millions of his salary back to the school. He built the library that bears his name. He insisted his kids graduate. He won more football games than any other college coach. He won two national championships and finished five other seasons undefeated. Paterno extolled the values that made America great: hard work, dedication, playing by the rules, the meaning of loyalty and honor.

Again, and in no uncertain terms, Joe Paterno built the legacy that is Penn State University. No matter who the football coach is, they will never measure up to the legend that Paterno was in the eyes of the Nittany faithful. It is an impossible task that Bill O'Brien is taking on. I wish him luck. Because he is going to need it.

So far, O'Brien has said and done all of the right things except for being from inside the Penn State family. But that was exactly why he was hired. Because of the stench that the whole sordid Sandusky mess left behind, the school had no other choice than to just try to wipe the slate clean and begin anew.

After all, look at what they got from those within the family?

Remember, the first known investigation into Jerry Sandusky's malfeasance with young boys dates all the way back to 1998, when Sandusky was still the Nittany Lions defensive coordinator. He was also the heir apparent to whenever Paterno stepped down, which, let's face it, could have been in any of the last 20 years.

It is speculation at best, curious timing at worst that Sandusky abruptly resigned the very next year, at age 56, and in the prime of his coaching life. I choose to simply not believe for one second that Paterno didn't have a hand in this. He was the one in charge. He was the single most powerful man on that campus, if not the entire state. It is not feasible that he did not know of the 1998 investigation.

If so, then Joe Paterno knew he was in the presence of a child molester for the last 14 years of his life, because as we have come to know, Jerry Sandusky was still very much entrenched in the Penn State football program, albeit unofficially.

Remember, even after negotiating his retirement (and who gets to do that, by the way?), Sandusky still had full, unfettered access to all of the football program's facilities to bring his kids from Second Mile in. After all, how else could have assistant Mike McQuerey have seen Sandusky assaulting a 10-year old boy in the team's showers in 2002?

The overriding feeling as to why Paterno did not do more than tell Sandusky to, in effect, take his kiddie-raping hobby elsewhere was because he didn't want to have a scandal on his hands. As if it were just better to sweep it under the rug and act like it never happened. The excuse of Paterno having "never heard of rape and a man," as he told The Washington Post's Sally Jenkins last week is absurd.

I know football coaches lead isolated lives, and few places are more isolated than State College, PA, but he wasn't actually living in a cave.

Not that anyone wanted to hear from Sandusky, the man who nearly single-handedly brought Penn State's reputation into the sewer, but he released a statement saying, "This is a sad day! Our family, Dottie and I would like to convey our deepest sympathy to Sue and her family. Nobody will be able to take away the memories we all shared of a great man, his family, and all the wonderful people who were a part of his life.

"He maintained a high standard in a very difficult profession. Joe preached toughness, hard work and clean competition," Sandusky concluded. "Most importantly, he had the courage to practice what he preached."

Doubtfully, anyone in Happy Valley paid that pap of a statement much mind, because it wasn't worth the paper it was printed on. Jerry Sandusky wanted the old man out for years. Because of his sinister proclivities, he got his wish. Is Paterno's blood on Sandusky's hands?

You bet it is.

But, what's done is done. Jerry Sandusky has been exposed, and Joe Paterno paid the ultimate price. After all, most cancer doctors will tell you that a positive outlook can be as important as the treatments you are undergoing. You have to have the will to live; the will to fight.

After reading the full text of Jenkins' two-day deathbed interview with Paterno last week, one could only conclude that Paterno knew the end was near, knew he had screwed up, and wanted one last chance to try to say something to those he had let down.

Meanwhile, at the statue of Paterno outside of Beaver Stadium, a candlelight vigil morphed into a full-on shrine following the news of his Sunday morning passing. For he was, to Penn State fans, alumni, and supporters, all they knew. He was more than just a football coach; he was a grandfather, an icon, even a deity. He was everything that was good in life and everything good about football.

Yet, it was no secret that NFL scouts were looked upon with disdain whenever they would knock on the old man's door. He gave the impression that he couldn't care less what his players did after college, because all he was interested in was winning here and now.

But all of the unflattering anecdotes upon Paterno's firing back in November from NFL scouts and coaches cannot hold a candle to the shattered lives that Paterno is at least somewhat partially responsible for, lest his supporters try to convince you otherwise.

While it was Jerry Sandusky that committed the crimes, it was Joe Paterno that gave him safe harbor in which to do so.

And while it is appropriate to honor the good that he did – and yes, there was plenty of good – the sad, final chapter of Joe Paterno's life may very well be its most indelible.

Aside from the children that have spent their entire lives picking up the pieces of what Jerry Sandusky perpetrated onto them, the anguished final months of a once-revered man might be the greatest tragedy of all.