Delusional Jerry Sandusky strolled into the courtroom yesterday as if it were the Penn State locker room after a gridiron victory — not to be sentenced for grooming, seducing and raping boys who worshipped his miserable hide like a rock star.
In red jail scrubs and an infuriating smirk, Sandusky blew a kiss to his idiot wife, then, in front of three of his victims, delivered a statement that sounded like a sadistic bowl-game pep talk.
“This was the worst loss of my life but not the first,’’ said the former Penn State assistant football coach and remorseless monster.
And then, for 13 minutes, he entered a fugue state where boys are constantly available and wives don’t exist: the gridiron.
“I told Dottie” — his wife — “that we’re definitely in the fourth quarter . . . We’ll continue to fight.’’
He used football as a perverse metaphor for his own victimhood, calling it “the suffering you get in an athletic competition.’’
He said he experienced “hardship and persecution’’ at the hands of a larger, better, faster team of prosecutors and victims. “I’ve been in the locker room crying because of a difficult loss,’’ he said.
At one point, the sports-addled pervert referred to the horse-racing movie “Seabiscuit.”
And if there was any doubt that Sandusky doesn’t regret for one second playing “tickle monster’’ to get his hands on minors, he hit the courtroom with this:
“I see me throwing thousands of kids in the air. Water balloon battles. My heart warms.’’
Ick.
Just minutes earlier, the three young men bravely stood up and told Sandusky to his face that he ruined their lives and stole their childhoods with horrific bouts of rape, assault and something worse.
“I am troubled with flashbacks of his naked body, something that will never be erased from my memory. Jerry has harmed children, of which I am one of them,” said Victim No. 5.
Sandusky’s sexual betrayal of youngsters who loved him was so profound, so sick, so unforgivable, never again will 10 young men he abused be able to trust human beings.
“There is no remorse, only evil,’’ said a man identified as Victim 1.
“I want you to know I don’t forgive you,’’ said another.
“Shame on you! Shame on you, Mr. Sandusky!’’ a prosecutor read from a statement of the mother of Victim 9.
But none of that fazed coach Sandusky, who repeatedly and compulsively hitched up his pants, grossing out spectators by drawing attention to parts of himself I’d prefer not to consider.
“I feel a need to talk, not from arrogance, but from my heart,’’ he said, forgetting which organ got him into this pickle. “I didn’t do those alleged disgusting acts.’’
His rambling and disjointed speech was about himself — and his boys. Creepy.
He said, “I’ve forgiven. I’ve been forgiven I’ve comforted others. I’ve been comforted. I’ve been kissed by dogs. I’ve been bit by dogs. I’ve conformed.
“I’ve also been different. I’ve been me. I’ve been loved. I’ve been hated.’’
He presented himself as the savior of troubled boys with his charity, Second Mile, which in reality doubled as fly paper he used for catching vulnerable boys ripe for seduction.
“I’ve been to prisons. I’ve been to ghettos, trailer parks. I’ve laughed with patients at hospitals, nursing homes,’’ Sandusky muttered.
On the field, “you get a mean heart. You get a crying heart. When you’re kind to others, you get a big heart.” Again with the hearts.
Please, give me a break.
His voice cracked with self-pitying tears. But before he was through, he left the gentle audience with another grotesque image I wish I could un-hear:
“My wife has been my only sex partner, and that was after marriage.’’
Right.
Judge John Cleland sentenced Sandusky — who he pointed out did “much positive in your community’’ — to a mere 30 to 60 years in prison when he could have slapped him with a reasonable 400.
Whether Sandusky will be back on the gridiron attacking boys and blaming the victims is hardly the point.
The judge needed to send a message to suffering victims and budding molesters that child abuse will not be tolerated.