I am, admittedly, a sucker for Ohio State traditions. I will openly weep from the moment the Marching Band’s snare drums enter the field for the Ramp Entrance well through when the drum major sprints through the center of the assembled band members. I still get chills watching “Script Ohio” despite having seen it roughly 523 million times in my Buckeye-loving life, and I think singing “Carmen Ohio” after a football game — win or lose — is one of those seemingly little things that actually has an outsized
impact on making college football far more meaningful than its professional counterpart.
I love tracking the progression of Buckeye leaves on players’ helmets throughout the season. I have an unhealthy devotion to Orton Hall and the campus chimes. I love the romantic lore of the Long Walk. I love the history of and reverence contained in Buckeye Grove. I love that generations of Ohio State students — myself included — have rubbed William Oxley Thompson’s bust in the library for luck until the former university president’s head was shinier than mine.
Ohio State is a place steeped in tradition, and as a Central Ohio native, the son of two Ohio State alums, and an OSU graduate, those traditions are not simply silly idiosyncrasies; they are, individually and collectively, enormously emotional tethers that continue to tie me to an institution and a sense of belonging that have made an indelible impact on both my life and heart.
But that does not mean that everything Ohio State has ever done needs to remain exactly the same forever.
While I certainly do not begrudge any Buckeye fan having tender spots for any Ohio State tradition, this offseason, we got news about two traditions that, while they led to plenty of discussion across Buckeye Nation, have generated no real emotional reaction from me whatsoever.
In May, Ohio State announced that the traditional Buckeye Stripe would become a more prominent part of its core home and road football uniforms, with metallic silver sleeves designed to better match the Buckeyes’ iconic helmets. The school also added a Block O to the jersey collar and festoon detailing inspired by Ohio Stadium’s architecture.
Then last week, the university announced something considerably more unusual: Senior Day will be held before the Sept. 5 season opener against Ball State rather than before the final home game of the year, which happens to be against Michigan this November. Ohio State says the seniors will be recognized before kickoff, while the November finale is being reserved for, quite simply, The Game.
Both announcements have generated plenty of conversation among Buckeye fans. But for me? To quote the Bosa brothers, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.
I understand the logic behind moving Senior Day. The emotions surrounding that ceremony are very real, and when your final home game is against Michigan, there are already more than enough emotions floating around Ohio Stadium without adding crying parents and a layer of existential dread surrounding the next phase of each player’s life, whether that is in the NFL or working for an insurance company or car dealership.
When I coached high school and college baseball and softball, we generally held Senior Day after the penultimate home game. Doing it afterward meant players did not have to spend the hours leading up to first pitch thinking about their parents, their teammates, their careers ending, and every other sentimental thing that could potentially distract them from actually playing the game. Of course, that also meant occasionally holding an emotional ceremony immediately following a loss, which was not exactly ideal either.
We chose the second-to-last home game because baseball and softball have this annoying little problem called weather. Football generally does not have to worry about a game being washed out. So, I understand what Ohio State is trying to accomplish.
The complication is that college football is considerably messier now. Some players walking on Sept. 5 might ultimately discover that they have another year of eligibility. Others might think they are returning, then have a breakout season and decide it’s time to leave for the NFL. There are transfers, redshirts, medical waivers, NCAA eligibility rulings, and approximately 900 other things that can make determining who is actually a “senior” increasingly difficult.
That makes Senior Day in Week 1 a little weird, but I don’t actually care one way or the other.
In November 1995, I attended Eddie George’s Senior Tackle. At the time, I cannot imagine many Buckeye fans could have envisioned a future in which Senior Tackle would no longer be a massive public event and an integral part of the lead-up to the Michigan Game. For generations, Ohio State seniors tackled the blocking sled one final time as fans gathered to watch. Eventually, that changed. The public version disappeared, the tradition evolved, and somehow Ohio State football remained Ohio State football.
We adjusted. We moved on, much like we will with the unusual Week 1 Senior Day.
The uniforms fall into a similar category for me, although I realize this is where I risk losing my fan credentials with a certain segment of college football fandom.
I am simply not a uniform guy.
I love Ohio State’s traditional look. Silver helmets, scarlet jerseys, gray pants? Fantastic. If the Buckeyes wore some version of that combination every Saturday for the rest of my life, you would hear absolutely no complaints from me.
But I also like some of the alternates. Black uniforms? Sure. Throwbacks? Fine. Something new for a big game? As long as it looks sharp, have at it.
Perhaps part of my indifference comes from the fact that I have never been a jersey guy myself. I am not going to buy one, and I am not going to wear one, although I certainly do not begrudge anyone else for doing so. But whether the stripe on Jeremiah Smith’s sleeve is two inches wider than it was three years ago simply does not materially change my Saturday or my appreciation of the gameday aesthetics.
To me, there is a difference between Ohio State traditions and things Ohio State has traditionally done.
“Script Ohio” is part of the identity. The “Ramp Entrance” is part of the identity. “Carmen Ohio” is part of the identity. The Buckeye leaves, the Victory Bell, the rivalry with Michigan, and all of those small rituals connecting current students and players to generations that came before them are worth protecting.
Whether Senior Day happens in September or November is not quite the same thing, at least not to me. Neither is the precise width, placement, or relative shininess of the shoulder stripe on the football jersey.
Traditions matter because they connect us to something larger than ourselves. But if we treat every detail as sacred simply because somebody did it that way before, tradition eventually stops being meaningful and starts becoming museum preservation.
The things we do do not carry meaning in and of themselves; they carry meaning because of the memories that they revive, the moments that they conjure, the relationships that they stir.
The university should protect, at all costs, the things that make Ohio State Ohio State. But around the edges? Tinker away. Who knows? Maybe, in the process, we will stumble upon the university’s next great tradition.
