My Ohio State Confirmation: A Journey to Fandom

Fandom is a peculiar thing. Most fandom origin stories have something to do with our hometown, our parents, or our youth. Some people stick to one city, others gravitate towards players instead of teams. Some people were frontrunners who stuck with a team after the glory days were over (read: Cowboys, Bulls, Celtics, Lakers, Steelers, Yankees, Duke, UNC, and Notre Dame). Others, the worst kind of people, are just frontrunners, jumping from winning team to winning team.

My personal experience was two-fold, in my elementary school years I lived in Northern California. The San Francisco 49ers were amazing, the SF. Giants had Barry Bonds (and we had season tickets), the San Jose Sharks were brand-spanking new, and the Golden State Warriors were a lot of fun. Toss in the Oakland teams, and there were so many choices. In those days, there was no way to watch the Boston teams that I loved. I was born in Boston, and the Celtics, Pats, Red Sox, and Bruins were my favorite teams. Most morning, I place a cereal bowl on the sports page and poured over the standings, looking for my teams’ results. I wore a Red Sox hat to every Giants game (although I was an avid collector of MLB hats in my youth). I even remember meeting Ted Kennedy in California while wearing a Boston Celtics sweatshirt, much to his delight (and he signed the underside of my Red Sox hat, which I still have somewhere).

Sure, I’m happy when those Bay Area teams do well. I’m pumped the 49ers are good again and was delighted when the Giants won their three World Series this decade. I will admit to some Warriors fatigue, though…

Later on in life, fandom is more complicated. We might attend a college with a sports program; I went to Holy Cross and follow those teams, but they’re not on the national scene, so it’s tough to really keep up besides checking scores, and seeing that the hoops team lost again (ugh…).

Once you leave college it’s very hard to adopt a new team to root for. Living in a new city might tempt someone to jump into the new culture and cheer on the local squad, especially if you have no prior affiliation.

The other way to join a fanbase is to marry your way into it, which is what happened to me six years ago.

My first date with my wife (Well, I thought it was a first date, but she thought it was a callback for a roommate interview…) was at Whiskey’s on Bolyston St. in Boston to watch a late September Ohio State vs. Michigan State football game. A couple months later, I was introduced to the world of the “Ohio State Game Watch” for the all important Michigan game. It was a slice of the midwest that I didn’t know existed in Boston (pssstttt… mid-westerns are everywhere in Boston). Scarlet and Grey and politeness filled the place, the fight song blared after every touchdown and at the end of the game everyone in the bar stopped and gathered around, arms on shoulders, to sing Carmen Ohio by heart.

I knew I liked this girl, and I knew that if I liked this girl I was going to start rooting for this team. The problem was, Ohio State was always good at football. Yes, I had the excuse that I was dating a Buckeye, but I was aware that I was hitching my wagon to a cute girl whose alma mater was a college football powerhouse. I was comfortable with the cute girl part, but the powerhouse part made me less comfortable.

Some of my friends and I had joked, even before I met Tiff, that there should be a process to join a fanbase. A person should have to answer a couple questions (multiple choice…), understand the hierarchy of apparel to buy (don’t get the jersey first… start with a hat or maybe a t-shirt), and feel the pain of certain losses.

On Sunday, I woke up annoyed following the Buckeyes Saturday night loss to the Clemson Tigers. Tiff and I had been planning on going to New Orleans for the National Championship since early October, even if we couldn’t get into the game, the prospect of being in the city that weekend seemed like a blast. It all blew up in our faces on Saturday night when the Buckeyes lost. I found myself reading article after article, looking for some form of closure on this season that should have culminated in a game against LSU.

This was the worst loss I can remember experiencing in the years I’ve started rooting for Ohio State. This was, to steal a religious term, my Fandom Confirmation. In Catholicism, teenagers confirm their faith (even though they’re still too young to really know…). It’s like baptism, but the person is cognizant of the choice they are making.

The sting of Clemson the loss drove home my “faith.”

Continuing with the Catholic theme (Hi, I went to Holy Cross…), there has to be a Fandom Baptism right? And a Fandom First Communion. And a Fandom Confession (where you confess your sins.)

So let’s see if I can parse out those moments in my journey to Buckeye Confirmation.

Baptism:

Baptism is usually performed on infants, so I have to consider a time when my relationship with Tiff was in its infancy. A time when I didn’t really know what was happening and I was just suddenly dunked into the water, struggling for breath. In my case, it wasn’t water but Milwaukee Seltzer (aka Miller Lite) in September at Whiskey’s. It all happened so quickly, but that’s the start of this journey. I was baptized at Whiskey’s…

First Communion

In order to receive First Communion, you have to attend church. So, my Buckeye First Communion has to be my first trip to Columbus, Ohio to take in a game. The experience was just how you’d imagine it. Shopping at Homage, tailgating, drinking, meeting Tiff’s college friends, scalping tickets on the corner, sitting up in C-Deck, script Ohio, and The Ohio State Marching Band (aka The Best Damn Band in the Land). All with 100,000 of our closest friends and family. (side note: Columbus is a delightful city that is more than just The University. I recommend a trip there).

Confession

This is a weird one but work with me… In the late 90s and early 2000s I loved playing NCAA Football on Playstation. My team was the Oregon Ducks. I loved their uniforms and the whole Oregon vibe and Steve Prefontaine is one of my favorite athletes. I remember the Ducks run to the National Championship against Auburn, losing to Cam Newton. I would stay up late and watch Chip Kelly’s offense destroy the Pac-12. I have an amazing Oregon Ducks Basketball jacket buried in my closet that I found at vintage store.

This was my sin. Rooting for two teams. So while I still like Oregon, they are not my favorite team. When people ask if I rooted for any team before the Buckeyes, I have to confess and say Oregon.

Bless me, father, for I have rooted for another…

Confirmation

Saturday night’s loss to Clemson was my confirmation. In the past, Buckeye losses would bug me, but not into the following day. There was the 31-0 loss to Clemson on New Years Eve, the Big Ten Championship loss to Michigan State, the Penn State loss in 2016.

The Clemson loss is lingering into Monday (and will sting again when I watch LSU v Clemson, but what religion is without pain?). I felt bad for the players; “what ifs” have been racing through my head (so many damn “what ifs”). I was so distracted that yesterday’s Patriots loss didn’t really even bother me (they suck by the way).

Tiff and I were married more than two years ago, and at that point I knew I was married into the Buckeye Cult. However, I was able to disassociate myself from the losses, not feeling the emotional connection to the team. I had other teams to worry about, teams that I have cared about for 30+ years. But watching Saturday night’s loss in a bar packed with Ohio State fans drove the point home. I care about this team more than I thought I would.

There’s one more level of fandom for any Buckeye candidate that I have yet to reach:

Losing a football game to Michigan.

I’m not sure what that’ll be like, and I hope I don’t find out for quite a while…