The little things made No. 1 Buckeyes larger than life
01/19/03
Columbus
- On the re play screen at Ohio Sta dium, as in the memories of their fans everywhere, the 2002 Ohio State Buckeyes were giants. They were 30 feet tall as they won the impossibly dramatic Fiesta Bowl again in a replay on the basketball court-sized screen. But they took something smaller and more private away from their championship season. It is something they will hold in their hearts forever, every one of them.
"You see the finished product. You see the national champions," senior safety Mike Doss said on Celebration Saturday, after an estimated 52,000 fans had braved 10-degree temperatures (and 3 below in wind chill) to salute Ohio State's greatest team in 34 years. "But I'll remember the laughing, joking and crying, running in the summer, the weight room - all the things that make a football team."
Added senior punter Andy Groom, who had wept unashamedly during the official ceremony: "The cold water they would throw on me in the shower. I'm always the guy they did that to."
Groom turned and looked at the other eight seniors in the interview room with him. "You guys have been the best friends in my life," he said. "I'll take this feeling with me forever."
The 11 seniors present at the 52-minute-long official ceremony (linebacker Matt Wilhelm and defensive end Kenny Peterson are at the Senior Bowl) dotted the "i" in Script Ohio before they adjourned to the interview room. The football team usually never even sees the band play. Dotting the "i" is an honor usually reserved for kings and tuba players. But who deserves it more than this team and its leaders, who did so much more than was expected of them?
After they had jumped in an excited knot, looking from on-high more like the bouncing ball of a sing-along than the dot of an "i," senior linebacker Cie Grant sang "Carmen Ohio," the OSU alma mater, without accompaniment, in a clear, pitch-perfect voice. The fans and the rest of the team joined him in a second rendition, before the players walked off the snow-covered field as brothers in arms for the last night.
"I looked up to see my parents in the stands, sitting there for the last time," said Groom. "I saw my dad, crying. I don't think I've ever seen my dad cry in my life. That's when I started losing it."
The little punter was rescued from former coach John Cooper's doghouse by new coach Jim Tressel. He responded with a year in which he outkicked every possible expectation. "This was the greatest thing in my life," Groom said. "It's hard to say goodbye."
This was the sweetest of championships not only because it ambushed the fans, but also because it was won on attitude as much as talent.
Tressel did snag such blue-chip recruits as freshman running back Maurice Clarett and sophomore ace-of-all-trades Chris Gamble, and he gave such rejects from Cooper's three-deep chart as quarterback Craig Krenzel and Groom a chance. But basically, the Buckeyes won it all because Doss chose to come back for his last season, deferring (and hopefully improving his prospects of) his professional career and providing immeasurable leadership. More leadership came from senior linebacker Wilhelm and senior safety Donnie Nickey, and from Grant and senior defensive tackle David Thompson, and from all the rest of them.
In the past, the Buckeyes were more talented, but they misread the manual on winning. Tressel's players played and hit hard, but clean. They had few unsportsmanlike conduct or personal foul penalties. They did not boast in a loud and insubstantial manner. They didn't take games, or series, or even a single play off. They did not consider college football only a tedious dress rehearsal for the greener grass and wallets on the pro side of the fence.
"Anybody who was up here, I tell you I trust him completely," said fullback Jack Tucker, looking around him on the interview podium. "They'll always have my back, and I'll always have theirs."
None of juniors from the championship team has turned pro. They will all be back. They reflect the values of their Berea-bred coach, because they always do their best. Defeat, when it comes, cannot diminish such players. It will only drive them to improve more.
Two years ago yesterday, Tressel was introduced as Ohio State's new football coach at halftime of a home basketball game. He promised then that Ohioans would be proud of his team. Significantly, he had no idea that yesterday was his two-year anniversary. (But he never hesitated in noting that it was 309 days until the next Michigan game.)
The governor was here, and the Columbus mayor, and the Ohio State president. But the band of brothers in their football jerseys was what mattered. Fans everywhere will want to flash-freeze the Fiesta Bowl, and they will want to hang on to the last hurrah in yesterday's brittle sunlight and razor winds, too.
"It was cold," said Tressel, "but I'm glad that bunch had one more moment in the sun."
01/19/03
Columbus
- On the re play screen at Ohio Sta dium, as in the memories of their fans everywhere, the 2002 Ohio State Buckeyes were giants. They were 30 feet tall as they won the impossibly dramatic Fiesta Bowl again in a replay on the basketball court-sized screen. But they took something smaller and more private away from their championship season. It is something they will hold in their hearts forever, every one of them.
"You see the finished product. You see the national champions," senior safety Mike Doss said on Celebration Saturday, after an estimated 52,000 fans had braved 10-degree temperatures (and 3 below in wind chill) to salute Ohio State's greatest team in 34 years. "But I'll remember the laughing, joking and crying, running in the summer, the weight room - all the things that make a football team."
Added senior punter Andy Groom, who had wept unashamedly during the official ceremony: "The cold water they would throw on me in the shower. I'm always the guy they did that to."
Groom turned and looked at the other eight seniors in the interview room with him. "You guys have been the best friends in my life," he said. "I'll take this feeling with me forever."
The 11 seniors present at the 52-minute-long official ceremony (linebacker Matt Wilhelm and defensive end Kenny Peterson are at the Senior Bowl) dotted the "i" in Script Ohio before they adjourned to the interview room. The football team usually never even sees the band play. Dotting the "i" is an honor usually reserved for kings and tuba players. But who deserves it more than this team and its leaders, who did so much more than was expected of them?
After they had jumped in an excited knot, looking from on-high more like the bouncing ball of a sing-along than the dot of an "i," senior linebacker Cie Grant sang "Carmen Ohio," the OSU alma mater, without accompaniment, in a clear, pitch-perfect voice. The fans and the rest of the team joined him in a second rendition, before the players walked off the snow-covered field as brothers in arms for the last night.
"I looked up to see my parents in the stands, sitting there for the last time," said Groom. "I saw my dad, crying. I don't think I've ever seen my dad cry in my life. That's when I started losing it."
The little punter was rescued from former coach John Cooper's doghouse by new coach Jim Tressel. He responded with a year in which he outkicked every possible expectation. "This was the greatest thing in my life," Groom said. "It's hard to say goodbye."
This was the sweetest of championships not only because it ambushed the fans, but also because it was won on attitude as much as talent.
Tressel did snag such blue-chip recruits as freshman running back Maurice Clarett and sophomore ace-of-all-trades Chris Gamble, and he gave such rejects from Cooper's three-deep chart as quarterback Craig Krenzel and Groom a chance. But basically, the Buckeyes won it all because Doss chose to come back for his last season, deferring (and hopefully improving his prospects of) his professional career and providing immeasurable leadership. More leadership came from senior linebacker Wilhelm and senior safety Donnie Nickey, and from Grant and senior defensive tackle David Thompson, and from all the rest of them.
In the past, the Buckeyes were more talented, but they misread the manual on winning. Tressel's players played and hit hard, but clean. They had few unsportsmanlike conduct or personal foul penalties. They did not boast in a loud and insubstantial manner. They didn't take games, or series, or even a single play off. They did not consider college football only a tedious dress rehearsal for the greener grass and wallets on the pro side of the fence.
"Anybody who was up here, I tell you I trust him completely," said fullback Jack Tucker, looking around him on the interview podium. "They'll always have my back, and I'll always have theirs."
None of juniors from the championship team has turned pro. They will all be back. They reflect the values of their Berea-bred coach, because they always do their best. Defeat, when it comes, cannot diminish such players. It will only drive them to improve more.
Two years ago yesterday, Tressel was introduced as Ohio State's new football coach at halftime of a home basketball game. He promised then that Ohioans would be proud of his team. Significantly, he had no idea that yesterday was his two-year anniversary. (But he never hesitated in noting that it was 309 days until the next Michigan game.)
The governor was here, and the Columbus mayor, and the Ohio State president. But the band of brothers in their football jerseys was what mattered. Fans everywhere will want to flash-freeze the Fiesta Bowl, and they will want to hang on to the last hurrah in yesterday's brittle sunlight and razor winds, too.
"It was cold," said Tressel, "but I'm glad that bunch had one more moment in the sun."
