Let’s play a game. I will edit this New York Times piece a bit, and you will try to name the Ivy League rock star the article features. Okay? Okay. Here:

Soon, Mr. X had testified before a grand jury, and the rough outlines of what would become a giant scandal had been published in a local newspaper.

That same month, Mr. X . . began negotiating with his superiors to amend his contract, with the timing something of a surprise because the contract was not set to expire until the end of 2012, according to university documents and people with knowledge of the discussions. By August, Mr. X and the university’s president, both of whom were by then embroiled in the investigation, had reached an agreement.

Mr. X was to be paid $3 million at the end of . . 2011[.] Interest-free loans totaling $350,000 that the university had made to Mr. X over the years would be forgiven as part of the retirement package. He would also have the use of the university’s private plane and a luxury box . . for him and his family to use over the next 25 years. . .

Board members who raised questions about whether the university ought to go forward with the payments were quickly shut down, according to two people with direct knowledge of the negotiations.

In the end, the board of trustees — bombarded with hate mail and threatened with a defamation lawsuit by Mr. X’s family — gave the family virtually everything it wanted, with a package worth roughly $5.5 million.

Did you guess? Yes? What super-genius Alfred Einstein was worth millions and millions of dollars to a stodgy intellectual powerhouse? Which lecture celebrity extracted decades of family private plane trips and luxury box accommodations from an obeisant, genuflecting administration? Whose professorial preening likely cashed in piles of valuable university scholarships for the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, eager and needy? Hmm? Oh, please. Like you can’t remember Joe Paterno.