One More, Then Forever

I was Ryan Day’s first commit as a head coach back in 2019. I’m from Pickerington, Ohio, and I won’t lie — I was an “easy” recruit. Most of my dreams as a kid involved being a Buckeye. When I was like five or six, my dad would come home from a long day of work, and he’d be so tired. But I wouldn’t even let him sit on the couch until we’d gone outside with the football. I’d beg him for “10 minutes,” but of course that was a scam. We’d run routes, and I’d pretend I’m James Laurinaitis making these game-saving interceptions (I’d have his 33 jersey on most days). Or I’d be Troy Smith, and I’m throwing bombs across the yard. You get the picture. You let an Ohio kid outside with a football, 10 minutes turns into two hours real quick. 

I lived and died with Ohio State football. 2014, when we got upset by Virginia Tech, I took that so hard. I was 12, and you couldn’t tell me anything after, I was so mad and so down about it. I remember the bus ride to school that next Monday, we were basically giving out condolences — a bunch of sixth graders just looking at each other and being like, Hey, man. I’m sorry for your loss. And when we ended up flipping the script that same season, and going on our playoff run?? “85 yards through the heart of the South” … honestly, when Zeke broke through that line against Bama, I’d never been so happy in my life. I just started yelling at the TV in our family room, like fully yelling, as if Zeke could hear me or something. We still had to win the championship game, but that play felt like The Moment. I knew those guys were getting it done.

And then I pretty much spent the rest of my childhood wishing I could press fast-forward — just wanting to smash that button and get it over with already, so I could be at the part where I’m playing on Saturdays at the Shoe. And somehow it all worked out, and I became a good enough player to where I actually ended up getting that opportunity. So while a lot of people like to talk about how I was “Ryan Day’s first commit,” that’s probably not the commitment of mine that tells you much about Coach. Because the truth is, I was coming to Columbus no matter what.

The commitment of mine that actually tells you about Coach — it’s the one I made a year ago.

It’s the one a lot of us made.

My first three years here, there were definitely ups and downs. As a freshman and a sophomore, I didn’t play up to my potential at all. It’s not some original story about why. I think I just got lost in the lights a bit. I still had some maturing to do. And it was during those rough first couple of years that I saw what Coach Day is about. Because it’s easy to preach family on the recruiting trail, and it’s easy to preach family when things are going well. But when things aren’t going as well — that’s when you’ll see a coach’s true character. 

In those first seasons where I was struggling, I appreciated how Coach didn’t treat me like I was just some underachieving player. Honestly, he treated me more like a son. He’d let me know when he was disappointed, and when there was something I needed to work on. But he’d never try to “prove a point” with me by being one of these dictator types — he always made me feel like a human being. It felt like his criticisms were about my progress, not his ego. And it worked, you know? The culture he’s put in place here, it’s a big reason why I was able to turn the corner as a junior, and start to reach my potential.

And I think that same culture has shown up in how we’ve been able to handle our ups and downs on a team level. A lot of high-profile coaches, I think it’s almost like they’re playing the “head coach” character in a football movie. It’s a lot of big speeches when the cameras are rolling, and a lot of focus on themselves when the team has success. But you get a feeling they’re not that same guy when the cameras stop rolling. And if the team falls short, it’s never about them — they’ll throw their players under the bus no problem. Man, it’s hard to even put into words how much Coach Day is the total opposite of that. In public and private, I’m telling you, he is the exact same dude. And maybe that doesn’t make great TV or whatever, but for us as players, we know there’s no act with him. And that means a lot. 

It also means a lot to know how much he has our backs in the bad moments. Honestly, probably too much. The amount of s*** that Coach has taken on our behalf is insane. I remember he was telling us about how, after one of our losses to The Team Up North, he had to take his son and his daughters out of school — because not only were kids saying stuff about them and their dad and how they need to leave town and they’re not welcome here, but actual teachers were as well. Hearing that made us so angry. But I also think a reason that stuff has been able to happen, it’s because of how high Coach’s character is. He refuses to hang his players out to dry. In the good times, he wants the spotlight on us. In the bad times, he wants the spotlight on himself. And it’s definitely unacceptable, the amount of toxic bulls*** he’s had to deal with over the years. But if you’re wondering why his players play so damn hard for him — well, there you go.

And a lot of us had that stuff on our minds, I think, when we were talking last January about if we wanted to run it back as seniors. Basically, we made a group chat, of the seniors and the guys who could come back for a fifth year, and we just started talking it out. I kind of got the ball rolling. For me it was like, man, I know we all want to do this one last time, and do it right, no “what if”s. And I know we all have great opportunities to play at the next level. But imagine where we’ll be and how it’s gonna feel if we win the natty. We have our whole careers to play at the next level — and our whole lives to be Buckeyes. But we only have one more shot to be national champs … and being national champs is forever. So I knew we all had to make our own decision, but I told them where my head was at. Let’s run this back and end this right. One more, then forever.

And that’s kind of how it went for a couple of weeks, back and forth, everyone weighing in and saying where they were at with it. It was just a group of guys who all care about each other, talking openly about our situations. And everyone was understanding of everyone else, and checking in to see how the other guys were doing, and giving them as much time as they needed. And no matter what anyone’s decision was, it was all love at the end of the day. We made sure of that.

One guy on our team (I won’t say who, just to keep it private), maybe a day or two before the deadline, he told me — “Jack, I’m sorry. I can’t. I gotta go.” And of course I was like, “If that’s what’s best for you, man, I get it. You need to follow that feeling. Either way, you’ve got a brother in me for life.” That was around 10 pm. Around 7 that next morning, I get a call from the same guy. He’s almost in tears. And he says “Jack, I’m coming back.” I’m like, “Wow. Wait, are you sure? Nine hours ago you were gone.” And he goes, “I thought about it. Prayed on it. Talked to my family, talked to Coach Day. And I’ve just gotta come back with you guys. I’ve just gotta.” Man … that floored me. Like, that right there — that’s what this brotherhood is all about.

And I probably don’t have to tell you this, but the group that came back … I mean, yeah. We came back on a mission. We knew what was at stake we and just went to f***ing work. Challenging each other in the weight room, challenging each other on the turf, challenging each other any way we could. Straight up, I’m telling you, our offseason last summer was the most competitive environment I’ve ever been in. Our offseason. I came out of it thinking to myself, like, Alright — THIS is what “pushing your chips in” feels like. This is what we’ve been building toward.

And I think what’s so fitting about this season, and about this group, is that nothing has come easy for us the whole time. Oregon? Brutal. Beyond brutal — just so tough in every way. Then losing to TTUN at home, as these huge favorites, knowing it was our class’s last chance to beat them……. I can’t even describe it. I won’t ever get over that loss. And honestly, it’s the type of loss most teams don’t get up from. Everyone blames everyone else, the program just kind of quits on itself, the next game they lay an egg — and all of a sudden it’s over. That could have easily been us against Tennessee, and I’m sure a lot of people expected it. But what those people didn’t understand is, for as harsh as some of the criticism was that was coming from the outside? Inside our program, it’s family.

After the TTUN game, we gave ourselves all a week to digest it. Then we had a meeting: players only, plus Coach Day. And just like everything else in our program, that meeting wouldn’t have made for a great movie. It wasn’t a bunch of egos flying around, or big speeches. It was more just like … some family conversations. Don’t get me wrong: Those were grown man family conversations. Guys were upset, frustrated, tempers flared, it got heated. Some difficult questions were asked, and no one shied away from any of them. Especially not Coach Day — and that’s such a credit to him, when you consider the circumstances. He’s got people all over town, the internet, radio, TV saying he’s this awful coach, or he should be fired. And it’s like he didn’t even care about any of that. All he cared about was our locker room, and our accountability, and our getting back on the same page. He was basically like, “We’re going to the Playoff. That’s happening.” And once we were going, we knew we had two options. Option A: We could stay down after taking that punch from TTUN, and already be defeated, and play the way most people expected us to play. Or option B: We could get back up. Be pissed off. Lock in. Go out there. And play OUR f***ing game.

We could quit, like we knew everyone wanted us to … or be the best team in the country, like we know we are.

We chose Option B.

Honestly, man … it’s crazy to think how time flies. 16, 17 years ago, I’m in the yard with my dad making plays like I’m Laurinaitis. Ten years ago, I’m in the family room going nuts and yelling at Zeke through the TV. Five years ago, I’m in Pickerington becoming Ryan Day’s first commit as a head coach. A year ago, I’m in Columbus telling Coach that we’re running it back — and deciding with my brothers that we’re doing it together, and pushing our chips in for one more season, and trying to hang a banner that’ll outlive us all. 

And now we’re here. “One more season” is down to one more game. Whatever happens Monday night, please know: Coming back as a senior is a decision I’d make again in a heartbeat. It’s been a dream come true for me to play football at this school, and I mean that literally. I dreamed of playing here — and then it came true.

Anyway……. that’s it from me. Time to lock in.

Time to show them how we take a punch in Ohio.

Time to go out there and play OUR f***ing game.

Time to be Buckeyes.

One more, then forever.

—Jack