UNIVERSITY PARK, Pa. -- Joe Paterno had plenty of on-the-field wins, but speakers Thursday said the nation's winningest major college football coach scored his biggest victories in the lives of young men by stressing education, hard work and -- above all else -- honor.

He was eulogized in the Bryce Jordan Center as a family man and praised as a passionate supporter of academics at the only university where he ever coached.

They said he never lost his grounding, or became bitter, even when his six-decade career at Penn State University suddenly ended in his firing amid a child sex abuse scandal that rocked the university in November.

"Despite being pushed away from his beloved game and under the extreme pressure of the events of the past few months, Joe's grace was startling," said Charlie Pittman who played halfback for him during the 1960s before entering the National Football League. "Though his body eventually failed, his spirit never did."

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In many respects, the public memorial service that culminated a week of mourning was what one would expect for a coaching legend, filled with grateful expressions from former players and others on campus touched by his philanthropy.

But it also appeared at times that the men Mr. Paterno had helped mold were rising up to defend a legacy they feel has been unfairly tarnished.

"Rest in peace coach," Mr. Pittman said to wild applause. "We'll take it from here."

Among those in attendance were three busloads of current football players and scores of former players, including Ki-Jana Carter, a running back from the 1990s, Todd Blackledge, who played quarterback on one of Mr. Paterno's national championship teams, and Steelers great Franco Harris.

Mr. Paterno, 85, died Sunday of complications from lung cancer and was buried Wednesday after a private funeral. Just before Thursday's service began, the audience of 12,000 gave a three-minute standing ovation as Sue Paterno, her children and grandchildren took their places at the head of an arena bowl where the rows of blue and white seats covered an area normally occupied by the basketball court.

Overhead, giant still images and video of the coach, his thick glasses and trademark sweater and tie, played on an electronic scoreboard, capturing big moments on the field, as well as elsewhere, holding his children at home and meeting in one instance with President Ronald Reagan.

His wife seemed embarrassed by the attention, at times glancing awkwardly at the crowd and up toward the wide screen.

The first reference to the scandal came 40 minutes into the service with Mr. Pittman's remarks. Even blunter was Phil Knight, chairman of Nike, who took aim the university trustees who fired Mr. Paterno.

Trustees have said Mr. Paterno should have done more to alert law enforcement than tell superiors after learning in 2002 of an allegation that former assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky had sexually assaulted a boy on campus in a football building shower.

Mr. Sandusky, arrested in November, now faces 52 criminal counts on charges he sexually abused 10 boys over 15 years.

Mr. Paterno "gave full disclosure" to his bosses, thus placing the matter in the hands of "a world-class university" and its highly respected then-president Graham Spanier to investigate, Mr. Knight said.

"This much is clear to me," he said. "If there is a villain in this tragedy, it lies in that investigation, not in Joe Paterno's response."

The trustees board changed leadership last week amid outrage by alumni and others over the board's handling of the case. In a question that seemed directed at those members, Mr. Knight asked, "Who is the real trustee at Penn State University?"

Players representing each of Mr. Paterno's six decades as coach took turns remembering what more than one called a father figure.

They said for all his acclaim on the field -- 409 wins, two national championships, five coach of the year awards -- his greatest acts were as a mentor. Many of his recruits were the children of coal miners, steelworkers and farmers, all given an opportunity for a better life that the coach was determined not to let them squander.

Jimmy Cefalo, a wide receiver from the 1970s who went on to play for the NFL's Miami Dolphins, learned that lesson first-hand during his senior year, after his college football career was finished. He said he decided to coast by taking easy courses during his last semester, but the coach got wind of those courses and summoned Mr. Cefalo to his office.

"I went in, and he said, 'What do you think you're doing? This is beneath you,' " Mr. Cefalo recalled. "I was no good to him for football [anymore] but he kept that commitment."

Mr. Paterno's devotion to Penn State extended far beyond football, as evidenced by the library that bears his name and the spiritual center he and his wife gave $1 million to help build.

Susan Welch, dean of the College of the Liberal Arts, recalled a conversation in which the coach argued the importance of the classics. Lauren Perrotti, a Penn State senior and member of the first class of Paterno fellows, told the audience she will never forget what happened when she tried to thank him for aiding her education.

"His response was to thank me right back," she said.

Kenny Jackson, a Penn State wide receiver from the 1980s, said it wasn't just Mr. Paterno who stressed academics. He said being a Penn State recruit meant spending time at the Paterno house with the coach and his wife, who shared Mr. Paterno's passion for learning,

He recalled what his parents told him after a visit to the Paterno home during a recruiting trip.

"They told me something very important. [They said] Sue only promised two things: the first, Kenny will go to class; second, he will get a quality education," Mr. Jackson said. "That's all she said. She never talked about anything else."

He said Mr. Paterno as a coach epitomized humility.

"He never took a compliment, always deflected praise, never thought he was the show," Mr. Jackson said. "But today, my teacher, you have no choice, we are going to show how much we love you."

Michael Robinson, who played under Mr. Paterno before entering the NFL, said he was sought after by many programs and met a number of big-name coaches.

"When I met Joe, something was different about him -- he didn't lie," Mr. Robinson said.

Mr. Robinson said Mr. Paterno didn't try to entice him by promising him he'd play quarterback. But he promised him he could compete for the job.

Mr. Robinson said it is inevitable that Mr. Paterno's legacy will live on. After all, he said, "He's in all of us."

The arena was a mix of emotions, with some dabbing at tears over the loss of the proud face of Nittany Lion Nation and others casting wistful smiles as the legendary coach was celebrated. There were moments of levity, too, such as when Mr. Paterno's son Jay parodied his father by shouting at the crowd in a shrill voice, "Sit down!"

Jay Paterno, who said his father succeeded in his obligations as parent as well as coach, told the crowd of his last whispered words to his father as he lay near death Sunday.

"Dad, you won. You did all you could do," he said. "You can go home now."