Remember the Calipari meltdown? Chaney got a one-game suspension for it.

One.

That didn't exactly send a message that he had severely crossed the line of sportsmanship and decency as a university leader. It sent the message: "Yeah, you were wrong, but that smarmy Calipari really is a jerk. Attaboy, coach!"

Luckily for Chaney, his resume is long enough, and supporters powerful enough, that he'll likely survive this one. At least so he can coach one more year and ride off into the sunset on more of his own terms.

But sports history is replete with larger-than-life figures that fell victim to their own rampant variants of OMS. Some were fired, others just mortally embarrassed.

Who knows if Woody Hayes thought he could actually get away with slugging Charlie Bauman in the Gator Bowl and still be coach of the Buckeyes. Perhaps it was truly in the heat of the moment. Ultimately, it was symptomatic of old school coaches who just can't stand losing anymore.

Losing reminds them they just aren't as great as everyone says they are. This truth flies contrary to the boosters who say how the program can't live another day without you. Or the media guides that devote 12 pages to your coaching "legacy."

Put simply: losing still hurts.

And unlike a young lion who knows he'll be back to fight (and win) another day, the old lion just gets more and more bitter. The same Chaney-esque story arc has already played out with Bob Knight at Indiana.

Knight suffered from an early onset of OMS, combined with an excessively bullying persona. Did anybody stand up to Knight back when he was running the table? Of course not. Rules? Surely they don't apply to a guy who is canonized by a screaming idiot on television who has dubbed you "The General." Please. Rules are for the rank and file. Not "The General."

It ended badly for him at IU. And it almost ended badly at Texas Tech last year, too.

Over a salad. That's right. A salad.

Imagine telling your kids someday about two of the greatest coaches in college basketball history, Robert Montgomery Knight and John Chaney. Somewhere in that story, you might have had to explain what ultimately did them in.

A salad, and moving screens.

Would that have sounded crazy, or what? But crazy is what we're talking about when it comes to the coaching variant of OMS.

There's a good man and a great coach not too far from Chaney and Temple.

His name is Joe Paterno. He thinks the referees are out to get him -- among other things. He is old. He is getting cranky.

Please, somebody help him find a gracious way to exit at Penn State, before unfortunate events dictate those circumstances.