“Why Ohio State?”
The question looms over my head constantly, whether others voice it or not. They see the blinding red —- red coat, red clothes, red laptop —- and the questions flow. This is Missouri, is it not? This is your new home, is it not?
No, it’s not. Not really.
I’m going to take the time now to talk about home — Ohio, Northeast Ohio and Ohio State. This is my last column for The Maneater, and I’m determined to make sure this one is finally “red.”
The snow has arrived here in Columbia, taking the homey feel to a comfortable extreme. Little in life is more beautiful than patient snow dripping onto a canvas of infinite white.
Wintertime in Ohio is quite festive as well. Come visit. Wear red. Shout “O-H!” and receive an instant “I-O!” It doesn’t matter where you are. Someone is listening, ready to answer the call.
The essence of being a Buckeye is a natural distinction when growing up in Northeast Ohio. If you aren’t decked in scarlet and grey – or perhaps sticking it with that ugly maize and blue — you probably aren’t into sports. Alternatives in the Buckeye State are as nonexistent as 95-degree days.
I grew up like many of my friends did. New Year’s Day was reserved for the Rose Bowl. The state up north was merely “That Team up North.” And the calendar never flipped from 2002.
I shared the childhood dream of attending The Ohio State University. It’s a vision that begins at the age of six and involves actually playing as a member of the silver bullets. The exciting day finally came when the acceptance letter arrived in the mail.
But I was also a journalist with ambitions beyond holding up cards in Block-O. Even in Ohio, education and life take triumph over football. They always will.
At Missouri, I wear the Tiger gold and I shout the “FKU” when the timing is right. And I love it.
But it’s always important to maintain a sense of home, which brings me to the interesting paradox of college sports rooting: it goes beyond literal school ties. For those of us that grew up fans, it has to.
As a Buckeye fan becoming a Tiger journalist, the split between allegiances has been a match made in sports heaven. I’ve been able to maintain my hometown pride while embracing the objective side of Tiger athletics.
The move has also birthed intriguing comparison. At Missouri, neither basketball nor football reign substantially dominant over the other. Athletics are a fun amenity to college at MU and that’s it. And for the home and the culture that is the Show Me State, that’s perfectly okay.
I’ll always remember the last game I attended at the Horse Shoe in Columbus, when I negotiated forever with scalpers to grab the last seat in a scarlet-dominated section. The undefeated No. 1 Buckeyes went down to unranked Illinois that October 2007 day. I think the crowd of 105,000 was louder during the national anthem than it was departing that sorrow scene.
I sulked down High Street angry, disappointed and disgusted. A car stopped next to me, its driver-side window rolled down and a woman decked in Buckeye scarlet leaning out.
“It’s 5:37, and Michigan still sucks!” she said.
How can I still root for Ohio State, you ask?
With blood this red, how could I not?