No winners?

So, the trial is over and the big time football coach stands convicted of heinous crimes against children. I won’t use his name here, because I don’t want to provide a metatag that brings crazies to my little blog. But I’m guessing you all know the case to which I refer.

I’ve read several accounts, ever aware that you can only seek out so much information before that in itself becomes a sort of squeamish form of voyeurism. And that’s a third rail I really don’t want to touch.

Several commentators have echoed the old saw that “there are no winners” in a case like this. And I suppose there’s some truth to that. After all, clichés become clichés because they contain a measure of truth.  Or at least, they resonate with folks.

So I know I’m about to swim against the tide a bit. Here goes: I think there are winners in this case.

First, a predator is off the streets and removed from a position he habitually used as a lure for his victims. That’s a win for every kid he won’t molest in future.

Next, this is a major win for 10 young men who’ve been told this week that ultimately, their personal safety and privacy is more important than a famous man’s reputation or freedom.

We all win by reinforcing the principle that adults owe safety and security to children. Any adult, any child, period. And adults who step outside that principle deserve our censure.

 We win when a university president and head coach who knew or should have known what was going on are forced out in dsgrace.

We win when we as a society display an appropriate measure of balance. We do not grant a free pass to predators simply because they’re really good at playing a game. Or because they’re politicians, or entertainers, for that matter.

Personally, the one disappointment  for me – other than the fact that this happened and to so many kids for so many years – is that the criminal’s conveyance to jail was so calm, mild even. He was handcuffed in front, wearing his nice jacket and was courteously escorted and instructed on fastening his seat belt.

Come on, folks! This wasn’t a disagreement among gentlemen. It wasn’t a peccadillo.  This guy is a child molester. Those two words convey horror. This is the beast among us who has finally been brought to heel.  He should be surrounded by shouting, spitting townsfolk carrying torches and brandishing scythes. The air around him should be filled with shouts and shaking fists, rotting vegetables and lumpy spittle.

He should be drug through the streets with a sign around his neck and his hair shorn, bleeding at the knees and with fear in his eyes. But he won’t be.

We don’t do that sort of thing, even to our most egregious offenders. And for very good, well-settled reasons.  We won’t drag him through the streets in disgrace. We won’t lop off his wanker or throw him down a deep hole or consign him to Coventry. As satisfying as those actions might be to some of us, we hold ourselves to a higher standard in how we treat even the worst among us.  Too bad, but necessary if we are to be who we claim to be.

But there is some satisfaction to be had in a simple fact – one of the worst will never again walk among us. For this at least, we’re all winners.