This time forty years ago (where did they go?) in the fall of '68, I was a high school senior finishing my football career. We didn't have state playoffs then and I have always felt cheated. Had we, our team was very good and I am sure we would have gone far. Instead, I finished my athletic career and one year later, in the fall of '69, I headed off to Ohio State.

When I arrived as a freshman first thing I did was went out and bought the obligatory beer stein. Don't know why. I didn't drink then, and never have, but hey...you were a freshman and that is what you did, you bought your own Stein.

I still have that Stein. I don't think it has ever held a drop of beer, but you can put a whole lot of pencils and highlighters in it. For forty years, it has sat on the corner of my desk. In the 40 years I have had many desks, several job titles, but one wife, one employer, one favorite football team, and yes one Stein.

I notice that stein every day...it's white ceramic and on the front, imprinted in red letters is the front page of the November 24th Columbus Dispatch Sunday Edition. The big bold headline reads "85,371 See Bucks Stomp Wolves - 50-14".

It's a daily reminder of the most perfect game the Buckeyes every played, the 1968 Michigan game, almost 40 years ago to the day this Saturday. Wouldn't it be nice for history to repeat itself this coming Saturday when Michigan again comes calling? Maybe next year, some freshman too can buy a memory that is good for another 40 years.

Michigan Week!!! Enough Said. Time to start the jokes rolling around the internet, the Richland County Alumni Party, The Earle Bruce Tailgate, the traveling alumni band, Scarlet and Gray Friday, and all that goes with this week, the greatest rivalry in all of college football. Time to go for 5 in a row and 7 of the last 8. It doesn't get any better than this.

Better enjoy this one though. It's the end of an era. Thanks to BCS mania, next time this rolls around to Ohio Stadium, the game will be held the Saturday after Thanksgiving. This time the students will be on campus all week. This time we will be around to decorate our grade schools and offices on Friday before game day. This time families will be concentrating on their tailgate parties instead of how they are going to get to grandma's on Thursday and then back for the game. This time the Buckeye players and the band will not have to worry about giving up a Thanksgiving with their families. This time the alumni band will not have to worry about driving all over town to play to empty office buildings on Hyperactive Friday. This time it will be what it's been for as long as I can remember. Take it in and savor it.

The ESPN documentary starts out with something like "It's forever been the third Saturday in November..." Well no more. Certainly, the University and Big Ten will have a different opinion. Obviously, things change. One of the joys of getting to my age though, is that you are perfectly free not to like it when they do!

As an old high school lineman who cut his teeth on trap blocking and grind it out, move the chains, smash mouth football, it didn't bother me a bit that the Bucks didn't throw much yesterday. My book will even have a story, told by one of the participants, on what has come to be known as simply "The Drive"... a famous Ohio Stadium series of 8 straight running plays that propelled the Buckeyes to a conference title and a national championship.

Of course yesterday did bother some fans who want to see them air it out like the west coast or southern teams. My friend Bob Hunter had some rather good commentary on that perspective, and what it means nationally. Since he said it much better than I could, I will simply suggest you read his story here.

If you are reading this blog, hopefully it is because you are interested in good Ohio State Literature. It has been my aim to share with all of you, books I think belong in any Buckeye library. There is a new one I highly recommend.

I had the privilege today to spend two captivating hours on the phone interviewing Dispatch Columnist Bob Hunter about Chic Harley, the Horseshoe, and Bob's just released book: Chic: The Extraordinary Rise of Ohio State Football and the Tragic Schoolboy Athlete Who Made It Happen.

It is a fascinating tale, described as "the untold story of the unassuming schoolboy who laid the groundwork for Ohio Stadium, as well as the story of the building of America's greatest athletic institution. Chic Harley is the ghost in the program, a tragic figure who--through the life of Ohio Stadium--gave as much sustained pleasure to as many people as any athlete of all time."

Everyone who has ever stood in Ohio Stadium and sung a fight song, shared a laugh, or shed a tear owes it to Chic Harley to read his legend. It is our birthright and the granddaddy story of all the Stories of the 'Shoe

You will be surprised, entertained, and enlightened and it would make the perfect gift in any Buckeye Stocking. Your local bookstore probably has it, or order from these links:

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Last year at the Illinois Game, the University honored on the field all the ushers who were Veterans. It was an impressive sight. They stretched sideline to sideline, several deep. I snapped some good photos of that, both a group shot and pictures of individuals and group close-ups. I don't have everyone, but got quite a few of you. For the past year, I have been sharing those with any usher in that line who emails me. Still, I know there are many more of you who haven't gotten one.

If you were in that group and contact me at sdavis@q1.net. I will email you the picture or pictures, free of charge, no strings attached. It is my way of saying thanks for the help and cooperation that I have received from the Ohio Stadium Ushers the last two years, and my way of thanking you for your service.

Being it is Veterans Day, seems like a good time to give you a continuing update on my Texas Buckeye storyteller friend Fred. As you remember (or can read below), Fred is the WWII Veteran who I met in the 'Shoe at the spring game. His house was severely damaged in Hurricane Ike, so at age 92 he is rebuilding. The good news is Fred is back home, the bad news is he is living in a trailer awaiting the rebuilding of his house. Fred wrote me this week: "living in a 31' trailer rather than the house is rather confining. Saturday I went to the OSU Alumni club game watch at the SRO bar, since my trailer RV only gets 4 local stations. It's a 40 mile trip, but I'll take it again next Saturday". He is one dedicated Buckeye.

There is more heartening news. When Fred's son wrote me of his Dad's plight, I played a hunch and passed it on to Coach Tressel's Secretary. I was right. About a week later, I learned from Fred's son that a letter had arrived for Fred, with the return address of the OSU Football Office. Fred shared me the following about it: "When you see Coach Tressel, tell him I was very touched by his letter. It referred to the storm and rebuilding, and included an invitation to visit him the next time I visit Columbus."

Fred's daughter described the meaning of the letter to me much more candidly. She wrote, "He shows it to everyone, and you'd almost think it was printed in gold!"

All the best to Fred and all the Veterans on this their day.

I was a little quiet on here last week...taking advantage of the bye week and some time off to head with my son to the hills of Southern Ohio for a deer-hunting trip. I came back with no deer but recharged from a few days of sitting deep in the timber with nothing to disturb me but squirrels, and nothing to look at but the golden woods and the beautiful falling autumn leaves. It was heaven...no phone, blackberry, TV...not even a Columbus Dispatch.

It looked like some of the writers also had way too much time as a result of the bye week, and way too little to write about, as well. When I returned on Saturday, I read that the Teflon was wearing off Coach Tressel cause we had lost 2 games, that the Pryor situation had possibly been mishandled, and that former players were questioning the coaching. For good measure, there was a press conference which Coach politely walked out of after 5 minutes of questions on the discipline of one individual player. (Did they really think they were going to get Tressel to talk about an individual personnel situation in public and on the record.)

Of course I read and learned all of this just after watching Terrelle and Beanie scorch the turf and the Wildcats in Evanston. Apparently, those two didn't get the memo. Yep. Go figure....

After the disappointing loss, with a bye week coming up, I looked forward to getting away and a break. Last week found me traveling for my day work. Tuesday evening I was 600 miles from home in Ottawa, Canada, the capital city of a foreign country. I was with some U. S. State Department and Canadian government officials, leaning into a stiff wind and blinding snow, as we passed the Canadian Parliament Building and entered an Irish Pub with a French speaking clientele. It was about as un-Columbus and un-Ohio as one could visualize.

As we stood in the foyer of the pub, and shook the snow off our coats, I happened to look up. What did I see, but a big screen TV, replaying at that very moment, in agonizingly slow motion, Terrelle Pryor's fumble against the Nittany Lions.

As I said in a post to start this season, "The Buckeyes Are Everywhere."

I left the Stadium discouraged and after midnight Saturday night. I was cold, tired, and walking on hurting feet. Having arrived before noon, I had been walking or standing except for the ten minutes I sat down to eat a hot dog in the press box. I was not angry about losing but rather disappointed and felt especially bad for the seniors. As an old lineman, it didn't bother me there wasn't a lot of scoring. Smash mouth grind it out move the chains football suits me just fine, and a close game is more riveting than a blowout.

I heard another view Sunday Morning. Having stopped for breakfast on my way out of town, a pancake flipper behind the grill was talking about the game. I learned from him I had totally missed it...it was the worst coaching, worst play calling, worst game plan in the history of football. What a waste of talent...why the guy was an all world football coach and here he was asking me, "You want hash browns with that?"

Turns out I am not the only one that thought the guy was all wet. Bob Hunter had a nice column in today's Dispatch on a similar theme. It's good tonic and I encourage you to read it at: Bob Hunter Commentary

Two plus weeks ago I attended the post game press conference of Joe Tiller, after his final game in Ohio Stadium. I meant to comment at the time that a small group of OSU fans in section 29 showed a lot of class. After warm-ups, Joe walked off the field alone to the locker room. When he got near the south ramp at section 29, one person started applauding. Before long the whole section was giving him a nice spontaneous ovation. Joe looked briefly that way and nodded slightly, as much recognition as a head coach trying to get "into the game time zone" could give the opposing fans right before the game. It was a nice scene.

Later in his post-game press conference, despite the sting of defeat, he was gracious and patient with the media. He dispensed his wisdom and common sense to a room less than one-forth full, a final Ohio Stadium sendoff for one of the good guys in the game.

Saturday night another Joe came to Ohio Stadium. This Joe however, even though a legend, couldn't walk off the field...because of his health he was in the press box. I wonder, would he have gotten the same ovation? I like to think he would.

It was also a different scene when a victorious Joe Paterno hobbled with a cane into the visitors post game press room. TV lights flooded the standing room only audience. Everyone pressed together was there for the same reason I was...to see an icon. The first question to Coach Paterno was about his reaction. I'm happy for the kids," he replied. I marveled at the wit and vigor that belied his 80 plus years. I have done my profession for 36 years now. It seems like a long time. If I were to do it another 25, well then I would reach JoePa's age. Think of that. In an era when the Nick Sabin's of coaching are hired guns to the highest bidder, Joe is still where he put down roots. He has given millions to the University and probably unknown other charities.

At some point a question was asked about his health. He shrugged and indicated he "might sit down with the doctor" during the upcoming bye week. Up till now he has been too busy. Some have written that the game has passed him by, that he should step down, that he has lost control. All I know is that Saturday night, there he was, in the flesh, in charge, and in victory.

I will be rooting for the Nittany Lions to run the table and win it all. You should too. It will be good for the Big Ten. It will be good for the Buckeyes and could send us to the Rose Bowl. And, it would most certainly be a fitting sendoff for a genuinely good guy we all should admire.

You go Joe!

Ifs Friday night. The camera bag is packed and the tape recorders charged. I will be off early tomorrow for the Stadium. The game is huge, the night atmosphere electric, and I have a sideline photo pass. But it will be bittersweet. This is the last one of the year and I will be wrapping this up this fall, so this is probably the last time I will be down there. It has been the most amazing and indescribable experience.

What I will miss most may surprise you. It will not be being right on top of the action...actually it is a poor place to see the game. It won't be being down there with all those people looking at you. It won't be walking by the bench, an arm length from the players. No, I will miss most the many people I have met and come to know...the ushers, the field workers, the phone crew, the photographers, the writers, the band staff. While you all are watching the game, there is a small army of folks that are quietly and methodically doing their job...going about their business to make sure the pageant goes smoothly and seamlessly.

Unless you have been a part of it you have no idea how much it takes. All these worker bees hum away, mostly at the expense of getting to take in the game and the action like you do. Some are paid, but many are volunteers. They are pros and the best in the business. It has been an honor and a privilege to experience it. Hats off to all of them. Go Bucks!

When you spend two nights away with your wife alone in a hotel, and the most pleasing moment you have is eleven at night...all by yourself in the hotel hot tub with some latex tubing, a broom handle, and a barbell...well you are either 1) getting old, 2) really weird, or 3) have a problem.

Guess I better explain that one! No, I am not that old! I don't think I'm weird. But I must admit, I do have a problem.

It's been a while since I have given you the hand update and medical report, so here goes. I am still in therapy, and doctor is keeping his fingers crossed that there is no more surgery. Movement is coming back steadily, albeit very slowly and still quite painfully. I am typing this with two hands and that is the good news. Bad news is I still can't turn the hand over palm up, I can't use the mouse right handed, or lift anything very heavy at all. Pain is mostly a constant thing. For 6 weeks I have gone to therapy 3 days a week and have an every day regime of 20 exercises, 30 reps each, minimum 3 times each day. For you mathematically challenged, that is 1800 repetitions a day...with all kinds of gizmos, including a shovel handle, barbells, therabands, rubber bands, a hammer, putty and several squeeze contraptions. Our coffee table looks like a hardware store. Friday was also a "stretch day", which means the therapist inflicts additional pain by yanking it in all directions. By the time we got to East Lansing it was a major case of the hurts really bad.

Which brings me to the hot tub. The only thing that gives me any real relief from the pain is heat. My therapist has this big crock-pot full of hot melted paraffin that I stick my hand in before my exercises and it feels oh so good. The hotel didn't have that but they did have a steaming hot tub. So Friday night and again Saturday morning and night, I dragged all my contraptions through the lobby, crawled in the hot tub with them, and did my exercises as the hand soaked in the heat. It was pure ecstasy!

It also elicited a very strange look from the manager, who chased me out when he came in to lock the place down at 11:00 PM. What the heck, it was well worth it.

I have met many wonderful Buckeyes through this project and enjoy keeping in touch with my storytellers all over the country. Saturday morning as we walked through the campus I called one of them, my friend Erwin. Erwin comes back to nearly every home game, all the way from Texas.

Unfortunately, Saturday as we talked, I found him the lone Buckeye attending a wedding somewhere in Minnesota, the bride and groom to be certainly oblivious to the sanctity of a Buckeye gameday. Erwin was obviously chagrined that he was there and I was at the game. I mean one can get married 365 days a year, but the Buckeyes only play 13 times a year....only 13 days...why it's life and death 13 times. We had a nice chat and I promised to fill Erwin in on the game. When I later did, he answered my email with the following reply:

"Great report. Wish I had been there. Followed the game on my iphone during the wedding. Almost jumped up out of my pew when we recovered the fumble and took it in for a touchdown."

Now there's a Buckeye for you!

Michigan State is a great place to go to an away game. The quite scenic campus is full of old growth hardwoods and their fall colors were vivid against a blue October sky. The campus itself is not landlocked like OSU, hence it has wide lawns and lots of boulevards around the stadium, making for lots of grass adjacent to the parking for nice tailgating. Quite frankly, I think there was more tailgating than at OSU, and the locations are every bit as nice or nicer.

I have to tell you though, Spartan Stadium is no Horseshoe. It's nice enough, but Jenny compared the exterior architecture to a concrete erector set. Our seats were fine, but I counted I think 3 ushers for the whole upper east half. And, the view was good, but this ole man didn't enjoy halftime with one restroom in the corner to serve half the upper part of the stadium. Howard Dwight Smith would particularly chuckle about the one door to that one restroom, through which probably 5000 men with bursting bladders were trying to go both in and out at the same time! We're spoiled with what we have and one only needs to go elsewhere, (or read my book) to appreciate that.

Jenny and I have been to East Lansing the last 3 times the Buckeyes have played there. Each time we have been treated kindly by the Spartan Fans, more than one of whom before the game has come up to us and welcomed us to their campus and their stadium, and afterward has graciously complimented us on our victory.

Saturday was no exception. We had no longer left the hotel and were in line for breakfast at Mickey D's when a gentleman in green and white turned to me and said "Good luck today." We had a nice chat, and it turned out he was a neighbor of Coach Dantonio. We had plenty of time to walk the campus and before the game and were befriended or welcomed a dozen, or more, different times by Spartan fans.

After the game, we were in the stairwell of the parking garage and met headlong a man and his young son, both green from head to toe. It was obviously a much-anticipated day for the boy that ended in disappointment. As we passed on the stairs, the father offered "Good Game", and I thought what a nice example he was setting for his son.

I have heard second hand reports that some folks were not treated so nicely. But as for us, they were fine hosts and kudos to them for that. When I mentioned to the gentleman in MacDonald's how nice we were usually treated, he replied, "Well we're not Michigan!" Indeed, they aren't and I will be rooting for them this week when they play the team with the funny lookin helmets. You should too.

One of my many OSU football memories is not in the 'Shoe, but of 2006 in Spartan Stadium At the end of that game Ohio State fans owned the Stadium. With red in every corner of the stadium, we had O-H-I-O going round and round the stadium in the 4th quarter as the Green and White streamed for the exits.

Jenny and I were in East Lansing again Saturday. As Yogi Berra said, It was "like dejaveu all over again".

Shannon Shelton's lead story in Sunday's Detroit Free Press said it best...

"The empty seats in Spartan Stadium told it all....At the end of the game the only sound that filled the air in Spartan Stadium was that of Ohio State fans singing 'Hang On Sloopy' and chanting O-H-I-O. Just as they did in 2006.

Actually, one more sound did fill the air. That was Carmen Ohio. As our group of OSU alumni watched from high up in the corner of the end zone, the sun slipped from a cloudless sky to just below the horizon and the Musco lights glistened on the silver tubas, the band completely encircled the team for the playing and singing of the alma mater. It was a picture postcard ending to a football perfect autumn afternoon...an image that all of us there will not soon forget.

The Buckeye Offense and I had something in common last Saturday. Things could have gone a little better for them, and....well....there were a couple of things I could have done differently too.

It all started before the game. I was outside the press entrance on the west side and decided that I could use some crowd shots. It was right at that time when everyone was jamming in the walkway to get into the stadium and it was a perfect picture of a mass of OSU humanity. So I stopped on the edge of the walkway and was snapping away towards the north end of the Stadium, all the while the crowd pressing me more and more to the outside. Things were going great when suddenly, almost beneath me, I heard this fearsome growl and then "woof, woof, woof". Jumping about six feet in the air, I looked down to see that I had been leaning right against the "Danger - Police Dog - Do Not Approach" sign on a police car. Inside the Canine Officer was not happy! I got the heck out of there and thought, "Well I dodged that bullet."

It didn't start well, and shucks, it didn't end well either. In the fourth quarter, at the very end of the game, the sidelines get crowded. The writers, athletic department workers, and others come down and congregate...the writers heading to the press conference, the AD staff finished with their jobs for the day.

At the end of the game Saturday, I was snapping all kinds of odds and ends....stadium shots of various props that might be useful for the book. I shot things like the portal numbers, photographers, yard line markers, etc. I was getting a little bit of anything and everything, never knowing what one might need to use. I decided I needed some credential cards....those small placards on a string that hang around everyone's neck with their name on them. They say different things and are the bearer's ticket to access the different regions....field, press box, locker room, etc. I would say there are about 8 different kinds.

Anyway, about 6 feet away from me stood a guy...just an ordinary Joe.... with one around his neck. It stood out nicely on a solid color shirt. Without thinking, I just reached out with my zoom lens and snapped a few pictures of it. I even tilted my camera at an angle to get a little "artsy look"! Since I didn't take the person's face, I didn't even say anything to the individual.

It didn't take but a minute or two and the guy was right beside me. "Excuse me," he politely said, "Might I ask why you took a picture of my card?" Somewhat surprised, I explained that I was doing a book and that I was just gathering images of all kinds. I assured him I didn't take his face and didn't mean to offend him. Even handed him my business card!

"We'll, that's all well and good," he said, "But if you use it you're going to have to black out my name. I'm an undercover police officer!" After apologizing profusely, I assured him I would. And I will. Don't worry "Officer Whatwasyourname?" Your secret is safe with me.

Like I said...me and the offense....things started badly and went downhill.

I have met many Buckeye fans with many rituals and traditions. One of the noblest is the gang that does the "Ohio Stadium Cake". If you have never seen it, you are missing one of the great traditions of the 'Shoe. You can view the 18th annual cake prior to the Purdue game this Saturday beginning at approximately 8:00 a.m. on the south lawn of St. John Arena. The cake will be served immediately following the game for donations to the Stadium Cake Scholarship Fund. Stop by and contribute to the cause.

Thus far, Buckeye fans have helped raise over $87,000 for scholarships at Ohio State. Most of that comes from small donations. Over the past four years (since the Stadium Cake Scholarship Fund was endowed), the University has awarded a total of eleven Stadium Cake Scholarships to Ohio State students, and is set to award four more for this academic year.

As part of the fundraising efforts, there is again available a limited-edition, signed, and numbered print of an original drawing of Ohio Stadium. To see all of our sketches, click on this link

For more information about the Stadium Cake, please check out their web site.

Beanie and I both made progress last week. The pace was just a little different. All Beanie did was gain 106 yards on 14 carries (7.6 per avg), and flat out hurdle a Minnesota linebacker for good measure.

Myself, I made great strides too. (Well at least a few big baby steps.) I progressed to being able to turn the radio dial in the car and use a spoon with my right hand. I can hold a cell phone, all be it not very long. Yesterday I held my razor in my right hand. I'm sure I've had better shaves, but I got through it without too much blood. And the biggie...although it's slow and rather difficult, I am typing this with two hands!

As I said below, Beanie and I, we're a lot alike.....

I must confess. I missed last Saturday. It was the first home game I've missed in 3 years. It was a combination of no ticket, no press pass, and going on 9 weeks of being handicapped piling up with my need to do lists here at home. Living with one usable arm all this time has left me way behind in life's little chores, and I used the time to do some catch-up. My situation is temporary, but it has taught me great respect for those who live a lifetime with a permanent disability.

While my streak ended, it paled compared to that of one Buckeye fan I interviewed last week. Buckeye Bob as he is known (wonder how many of those there are out there) also ended his streak this season when he missed the Southern Cal game. Course Bob's streak was a wee bit longer than mine....33 years without missing as opposed to my 3. Oh, and did I mention...Bob's streak included all games, both home and away!!! Imagine that. Imagine being at every game since '75, every single one for the last 33 years. Now there is a story.

And oh by the way, Bob has for sale a vintage and mint 1975 VW Bus, fully restored and decked out in Scarlet and Gray finest. Wouldn't it be great to find someone that could take it to the 'Shoe for the next 33 years? If interested let me know and I will put you in touch!

Beanie and I are a lot alike! I told Jenny that the other day and was rewarded with a hearty snort. Actually, she said, "Trust me dear, you're no where close to Beanie Wells, and you can quote me on that one." (So there, I have!)

It's true though. Two weeks ago, Beanie was rehabbing like crazy desperately wanting to shed his shackles and thinking he would see the field. Of course he didn't, and hasn't still. Two weeks ago today my cast was to come off, my pins pulled out, and like Beanie, I thought I would go like a house afire. Fat chance! My cast did come off, only to reveal a wrist and fingers locked up tighter than the Buckeye's game plan and straighter than Jim Tressel's sweater vest. Like Beanie, I have spent two weeks in therapy, where progress it seems is measured in movements the width of a pencil point. I made huge progress last Saturday when I passed a milestone. I could actually pick up a paper cup without excruciating pain. (Not without pain, just not the excruciating kind!)

I was back to see Doc today and the x-ray's showed "I was doing great!" (I wonder what lousy would feel like?) He is "95% sure" the mend is not going to fall apart. Translated that means more weeks in the soft cast and more visits to my highly capable therapist Joan. (How could such a nice lady delight in inflicting so much torture, and be so good at it?) But, I've hopefully dodged the second surgery he was worried about! As they say, no pain, no gain and if it moves this thing along, I am more than happy to submit to every thing Joan can throw at me now that the doctor has turned her loose. Good luck Beanie....I'll race you to the discharge...after all, as I said we're a lot alike.

When I came and told Jenny the good news, she shrugged and said, "We'll I guess you are like Beanie after all. You're both probable!"

I went to the 'Shoe with trepidation Saturday. Protected by the soft cast, I babied the hurting wrist in the crowd of 100,000. Avoided crowded turnstiles. Stayed out of jammed portals. Found an empty seat beside me. Waited for the aisles to clear after the game. With a great sigh of relief, I made it through the game and out of the stadium with nary a bump.

You can imagine then, the look of horror on my face, when, as I stood outside the Huntington club after the game, a gentleman turned to me, grabbed my bum hand, shook it, and said "How you doing!"

I would have punched him on the spot, but I didn't think the Lantern headline "Stories of the 'Shoe Author Assaults University President" would do my book sales any good!

Fortunately, Dr. E. Gordon Gee is a kind and gentle man. His soft and careful touch did not hurt me in the least, he meant no ill, and he can shake my hand any time. We had a nice chat about my injury and I took the opportunity to inquire about his daughter and send my best wishes. It made for a funny Story of the Shoe.

I was in the Stadium last week; unlike some fair weather fans who took the weekend off since it appears we are out of the BCS hunt. Apparently, there were quite a few of you in that category. People often complain to me how hard it is to get tickets. Yet Friday night, they still could have been purchased on the Ohio State Website. Saturday, it was not hard to find a vacant seat, and I was told by someone afterwords that they could have bought more than one ticket for $10 or $15 outside the stadium.

It's too bad you missed it. In the course of this project, I can't count the number of people who have fondly shared their remembrance of being at Archie's breakout debut. I have no doubt that thirty-five years from now...those of us that were there last Saturday...and that are still around...will be telling some old geezers the same thing, recounting the time we watched Terrelle Pryor throw a record setting 4 TD's in his first start in the 'Shoe.

It was history in the making and for a few bucks you could have seen it.

You may have noticed I have been quiet since Saturday's shellacking. Two reasons. One, I am into my hand therapy and very busy, and two, I have been wondering what to say.

The beat writers and talk show callers have done all the postmortems: Who to blame, What went wrong, What to change. The national writers have done their gloating. Myself, I've accepted that USC played a whole lot better than we did and moved on to the challenge of the rest of this season... a Big Ten Championship and Rose Bowl appearance. So beyond disappointment, what's left to say?

What's left came to me last night in an email about a different aftermath. My regular readers will remember my posts below in tribute to Fred, my 92-year-old Buckeye friend who served his country and proudly represents the Scarlet and Gray in the state of Texas. I was looking forward to seeing Fred in the 'Shoe this fall. That changed with the email I received last night from his son. Fred's house, and the homes of five of his children, were all damaged in Hurricane Ike. I am reprinting the email below to share the plight of Fred and the people of the Gulf Region.

It makes pining over the score of a football game seem rather trivial.

I would like to share with my readers this email, received last night from Mike Machol, son of Fred Machol:

Steve...Unfortunately, it looks as though my Dad & I won't be making it to an Ohio State game this fall. Dad's house had over a foot of seawater and sand from the storm surge of Hurricane Ike. Of course, Dad had evacuated to a hotel in Houston and he is okay. Prior to the storm hitting last week my sister from Hallsville (near Longview) had come down and packed all his important papers, valuables and most of his cherished mementos.

Other family members had similar damage to their homes including the following; one sister's home in Friendswood has a very large oak tree in the living room (right through the roof). My older brother's house in Galveston has flooding & who knows what else, my younger brother's house in Seabrook also had flooding and water damage and another sister's house in Kemah also had flooding. My house in Clear Lake City had some structural damage.

Mike Machol

Knowing that the Buckeye Nation is everywhere, perhaps some of you would have some Texas connections to a reputable contractor. If you have some information that might be helpful to Fred's family, or just want to send Fred a note of cheer, you may write him at the address below. If you prefer to email, send an email to me at sdavis@q1.net, and I will forward it to them.

Fred Machol
c/o Mike Machol
14323 Little Willow Walk
Houston, TX 77062

Looking for the headphones tonight. In my view, there is one fight song that is even more nauseating than "Hail to the Victors". That of course would be the USC fight song. Fortunately, I won't have to listen to it because I put in my headphones, and listen to Paul and Jim on the walkman. It is a little bit of a challenge as the two best play-by-play people in the business are two seconds ahead of the TV. But I have a system. I hold the walkman in one hand the entire game, thumb on the volume wheel. At the start of each play, I turn the radio down. As soon as the play stops, the volume goes back up, and I get the best play-by-play analysis there is. Next play I repeat it.

A little work, but a small price to pay not to have to listen to the idiots on TV, nor that damn fight song over and over and over! The things we Buckeyes do.

Woody left us many years ago but the arrogance of the West Coast Writers lives on. "Ohio State Deserves to Lose" was the title of one of the milder pieces of malarkey I have read from out there in the last 36 hours. I would give you the links but why add to their advertisers web clicks.

As I stood on the sidelines next to the Ozone's John Porentas last Saturday, midway through the 4th quarter he turned to me and said, "If we play like this we'll be blown out". I agreed with that then and agree with it now.

But we're not going to play like that. I don't believe it and in reading John this week neither does he. Think about it. We have a group with the talent and experience needed to win this thing, Beanie or no Beanie. They have had to eat, breath, and sleep all that has been written about them nationally since last January. They passed up first round draft picks and big bucks for this chance. They will be ready, Tress will be ready.

You heard it here. You will be proud of our guys come Saturday night. Heck, come to think of it, my flag will go up this morning, a day early. Might as well make the most of what will be a wonderful weekend.

Go Bucks

A family sent me a story about their son titled Healing Power of the 'Shoe. It's a good one and will be in the book. I learned Saturday though that the 'Shoe heals more ways than one.

Buckeye fan and friend Catie Swendal is an occupational therapist at the OSU Medical Center Dodd Hall Rehabilitation Hospital. At the game Saturday, she shared with me that the website of yours truly is visited regularly by the patients at Dodd Hall.

Catie uses keyboarding in her rehabilitation and physical therapy to restore dexterity, hand coordination, and retrain nerves and muscles. I was flattered to learn that she has chosen storiesoftheshoe.com as a destination and website that her patients use during their therapy sessions.

To all the good folks at Dodd Hall I say welcome! I am proud for this site to be a part of the healing process and wish each of you all the best. Keep up the good work and keep your chin up; with Catie and the Dodd staff you are in great hands. As I type this with my one left hand, I am reminded that in two days my own cast hopefully comes off my right wrist, the seven pins out, and then I too will be joining you in the hard work of therapy and rehabilitation. We'll get better together! Go Bucks!

He was standing in front of the Rotunda yesterday and obviously up in years. "Been coming here long?" I strolled up and asked. "First time", he replied. "I'm nearly 70 years old, one of 15 in my family, and I'm the only one that has ever gotten to come to an Ohio State game. My nephew got the ticket and I am supposed to meet him here. I just called him."

He didn't know where the seat would be, but told me it didn't matter. His first name was Lloyd and he eagerly game me his number. I agreed to call him this week to record his first time experience. As I left him, he was anxiously looking for his nephew, concerned I am sure that he would make it.

Later in the third quarter I was on the sideline when a twenty-something guy, sitting above me in the third or fourth row, started screaming "Put in Pryor, Put in Pryor". As I watched him loudly berate Coach Tressel, I thought "well dressed, third row, 35 yard line, I bet this guy has been to plenty of games." I also thought of Lloyd setting somewhere high in the Stadium, having waited seventy years for the privilege to be here. "It's a fair bet," I thought, "that Lloyd isn't sitting up there screaming Put in Pryor."

Two guys. One right on top of the action, the other likely in the nosebleed section. Which one do you think had the best time?

We're leaving tomorrow at 7. They way this thing hurts I wouldn't go, but I only get 4 field- photo passes this year, so have to take advantage of them when offered. Plus I have a date with a 92 year old grandma who will be watching two grandsons play opposite each other tomorrow. Imagine her thrill! Maybe I can do her story justice.

With one arm it is a challenge to carry tape recorder, address book, business cards, pencil, a spare battery, camera and of course pain medication...all of which have to be accessible from the left side because my right pockets are worthless! I have a system, we shall see how it works.

It was a real joy Saturday to see again many of you who I have come to know and treasure through this project. Ordinary Fans, Stadium Workers, Football Moms, Bandsmen and Bandswomen, Ushers...the list goes on and on. You all are wonderful. Of course, everyone asked, "How's the book?"

The answer is the book is coming great. Obviously, I did not meet my target of bringing it out for this season. Last winter, the gates suddenly opened to many really unique and important story opportunities and I saw the opportunity to improve on what I already had. I made a conscious decision to pursue that with my available time and do this book better rather than do it rushed. A couple of years ago I thought I would be retired from my day job before now. Like many of you, I am not, so I am still at this project which I thought would be done by now.

When the OSU book field became quite crowded this summer...Coach T, Ken Gordon, Jack Park, Bob Hunter, John Porentas, to name a few...I didn't regret my decision to take another six months. This was especially true when my broken arm put me out of commission for more than six weeks.

I do have a book now and am making steady progress. I hired three wonderful ladies to transcribe the nearly 200 recorded interviews I have done with many of you, and they spent the entire summer working on these. It was a huge leap forward. I am now arranging, editing, and compiling both the transcripts and all the additional web material people have submitted, doing the heavy lifting of sweating each word to transform just a collection of words into a cohesive and worthwhile literary work. It will be ready for next years selling season.

I can always find room to work in another good story. If you have something, continue to submit it, but don't delay...the bar grows higher and the window shorter with each passing day

Thanks to all of you who have believed in and patiently supported this project. I am confident in what is coming together and I look forward to the day you and the marketplace will ultimately judge the success of my work.

For those of you new, I did a post last year titled Trolling for Stories. It is way down below, or click the link to read a sense of what this project is about. If you have already read it, this year's version would be very short and better titled "Fishing with Bobbers". Last year I was full of vim and vinegar and able to be all over the place; this year with a throbbing arm and a bone in eight pieces, I was lucky just to be there. Therefore, like the wise old fisherman who knows where the lunkers are, I staked out the prime spots and dangled my bait, waiting for the big ones to come by.

On the way in, I walked thru the Fawcett Center lot. I found it has the most willing storytellers. I was rewarded again Saturday when I met some new ones. Next, I sat outside St. John Arena at the moment the alumni band exited. From there it was off to the stadium press box where two of the writers agreed to let me turn the tables and call to interview them. On the way, I introduced myself to a proud football mom whose son was playing his first game in the 'Shoe. Then it was down to the sidelines where I checked off two more must haves. After trying for a year, I finally connected with the group of students who sign the national anthem. Lastly, as the alumni band came off the field I got the phone number of a fellow who had twirled in the 40's and was still out there cutting up a shine!

It was a good day's catch.

First report from this weekend....As I headed to the Cheerleaders Alumni Society banquet Friday night I didn't know if this arm would make it thru the weekend. Doc said I could go but to be honest, it had hurt all day, and had I not needed desperately to be there for this book and all the alumni bandsmen and cheerleaders coming back, I would have stayed home. Jenny graciously took off work to drive me, so with my arm riding on three pillows, and two vials of pain pills, we headed to the Longaberger House.

I made it through the two-hour cheerleader banquet and met some tremendous story contacts. (Thank you Torre Claus for inviting me as your guest!) But by the time I finished the alumni band social at 10:15 P.M., the arm felt like someone had put a stuck a bunch of knives in a blood pressure cuff, and then pumped it up on my arm. I don't like taking the heavy duty pain medication, but that night I took the maximum label dose!

Saturday dawned beautiful but as we approached the stadium, my rebellious limb was already throbbing. Would it hold up? After making the parking lot rounds, I picked up my pass and hit the sidelines just as the alumni band, more than 600 strong, made their ramp entrance. From ten feet away, I watched in awe as men and women, some in their seventies and eighties, marched with grit and determination to stay in lockstep and make crisp turns. Their appearance is truly one of the marvelous moments at the start of every season!

As I stood and watched, an amazing thing happened. By the time they were into Carmen Ohio, the pain was gone, the arm was quiet. I made it through the game with nary a problem. Today it is back to hurting again, but then, for three magical hours, it was sheer bliss! Was it the drugs? Medical science would say so. Me, I think it was just one more example of the magic of the 'Shoe.

It's a "remember where I was day". Some things from your childhood stick with you as you go through life, and this is one of them. Tonight, as America nominates the first African-American for President, I will think back to the moment.

Forty-five years ago today I was 12 years old and I remember our family sitting in the kitchen. It was dinnertime. My mother made sure the TV was on, and that we watched Dr. Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" speech. Though I was just 12 at the time, with little inkling how many times I would hear those words in years to come, I can to this day see that TV, hear the power of Dr. Kings voice around our kitchen table and remember how my mother was moved by Dr. King's message.

One of my good Buckeye friends remembers that day as well. Last summer I traveled to Washington D.C. to interview this man, and as we walked together across the Georgetown Bridge, he pointed towards the site of Dr. King's speech. "That's where I decided to make something of myself," he said. "I was a young man," he explained, "and I saw all these people going somewhere. I didn't know where, but I thought since they were all going, I too should go see what was up and where they were headed". When he got there, the 'where they were going' was the Lincoln Memorial, and the 'what was up' was Dr. King's Speech.

"I listened to that speech and then and there decided that I was going to do something with my life", my friend said. He has. Part of that something was to come to Columbus and star in the Horseshoe, which you will read about in the book. But this Story of the 'Shoe will be not only what my friend did while he was on the field, but also about the work he is doing now, paying forward to the very ideals Dr. King preached those 45 years ago this day. The good Dr. King, and my friend's old coach, would be most proud of the man he is and the life he is now living. Who is this Buckeye? I'll give you a hint; his number was a lucky one. If you can't figure this one out, bone up on your Ohio State History, or wait for my book...it'll all be in there.

Back to the doctor yesterday. Good news and bad news. The good news is he okayed me to go to Saturday's game as long as I wear my sling. The bad news is the arm is healing slowly and I am relegated back to the couch to rest it two more weeks, with talk now of a possible bone graft. He dashed my hopes of soon getting back to work full time. And my long planned and eagerly awaited fishing trip to Canada next week is for sure canceled.

On the bright side, I can still run my tape recorder one-handed. Jenny has agreed to drive me to the game and Curt and Amber have offered up their couch in Westerville since I can't sleep in a bed. My schedule is the Cheerleaders Alumni banquet at seven on Friday night, followed by the Alumni Band social after their practice. I look forward to seeing many friends that I have made. Look for me on the sidelines and around the stadium Saturday. I will be probably the only guy in a blue sling. I know...that's sacrilegious, but it is the only color the doctor had! Go Bucks!

Its three weeks tonight since the bike crash shattered my wrist. I have been, and still am, confined mostly to the couch. The cast is still there, as are the seven (now infected) metal pins that stick out of the right arm within it. What can I do with it, the rogue arm? Absolutely nothing. The wrist is that immobilized. Without it, however, there's lots I can't do. I can't pick up a pencil. I can't cut my food. Heck, I can't even zip my fly! (Well it's true and Jenny's dang tired of that.) Doc says 3 more weeks in this cast.

Tonight's open practice is the first event in the 'Shoe that I have missed in 2 years. I had resigned myself to the fact that I just couldn't go. I'm a tough guy, but it hurts too much to jostle it around. It was easily rationalized. "With no cameras and no autographs, the crowd won't be that big," I told myself. No big deal. But as I clumsily peck away tonight with my left hand, it is a big deal, and damn I miss it.

I miss the atmosphere, the aura, and the storytellers yet to be met. Even harder is missing this time with two good hands to type. I had timed this summer to be cranking away on my writing right now and this book is bottled up inside me, burning to jump onto the pages, stories straining to be told. "Count your blessings dummy", I try to tell myself, "It could have been much worse". It sure could have. But that doesn't keep me from thinking of those of you in the Horseshoe tonight, and wishing I too were there, and I could move a little faster on this project right now.

I was at the birth of Buckeye Dreams: The Tyler 'Tank' Whaley Story, published recently by Ken Gordon.

It was Senior Week 2007, and one gloomy November, after practice the media was given unfettered access to the seniors. I was in the Woody Hayes Center as reporters swarmed soothsayer Kirk Barton and down-home-boy Tyler Whaley. My agenda was different. They wanted to hear about wins and losses, X's and O's, and what the stars had to say, I wanted to know about Ohio Stadium and the emotions of a senior playing his last game there.

I stayed on the periphery and interviewed the David Lisko's and other seniors who had labored and toiled just as hard but with not nearly as much fame nor field time. Many were glad to be interviewed; some perplexed as to why I wanted to talk to them.

As daylight waned, the reporters begin drifting away. I found myself alone in a room with Dispatch reporter Ken Gordon interviewing Tyler Whaley. Ken was gracious as I thrust my microphone into their space. Tyler was talking about coming to Ohio State as a walk-on, and what it meant to have arrived as a Buckeye. As I listened, I thought, "Wow, here is a story!" When Ken asked Tyler if he could follow-up over the holidays, Tyler gave his parents phone number. Not being stupid, I recorded that too. After Ken finished, it was getting late but Tyler patiently stayed and answered all of my questions about what it meant to him personally to play in the Horseshoe and walk in those big shoes.

The following Saturday, Senior Day in the stadium, I took some very nice pictures of Dave and Tami as Tyler's parents greeted him when he ran out of the tunnel the last time. I mailed them the pictures and then called Tyler's mother Tami. I was looking for a "football mom" story for my book and she was the perfect and willing storyteller.

Over the course of December, we talked on the phone for several hours about Tyler, his growing up, their family, recruiting and his passion to overcome adversity and be a Buckeye. Tami talked about his faith and the moral compass Coach Tressel provided him and the unbelievable experience of playing in Ohio Stadium. She was so proud that the Tyler they had sent to Ohio State five years earlier still had the values that they had instilled in him as a child and was graduating with a 3.2 GPA

We talked more than once, and developed a nice friendship. When the Buckeyes went to New Orleans, Dave graciously invited me to the private party the Football parents group hosted. I sat in a restaurant in New Orleans with the player's families, eating crayfish with Tami and Dave, and meeting grandmas and grandpas and aunts and cousins. They were down to earth people. It was a blessing for my recorder and a treat for me. When Tyler arrived, I recorded a neat story that I will tell in my book. I came away from the experience with admiration for Tyler and his family, and some great material.

I wasn't the only person who saw a story in Tyler Whaley. In December, Ken Gordon ran a nice piece in the Columbus Dispatch about Tyler and his family at their holiday dinner. He quoted Tyler's former coaches and friends as he followed Tyler around Ironton. I thought again what an amazing story.

So did Ken. In April of this year, Dave called me asking for some of my pictures "for Tyler's book". "Book?" I asked. Dave responded, "Yea, did you hear Ken Gordon's doing a book about Tyler?" "Dang", was my first reaction. "Scooped again; there go my stories!" That lasted about 5 seconds. Then I remembered the words a friend had uttered to me when I previously bemoaned another new OSU book. "There's room", he simply said.

There is. My book is about the stadium on a grand scale, and the people and moments that have made it grand. Tyler is but one of those, and the few stories I use will be a slice, in my own words, of his and his parent's moment in time. In contrast, Ken's book is an in-depth look at Tyler in a way that I do not have room. I quickly saw the synergism of the two and was happy for Tyler and his family. The plain truth is ten people could tell this same tale and you would not tire of it. It's that good.

Tyler Whaley is an amazing kid and the chapters of his life tell a wonderful story. Buckeye Dreams pays homage to that as Ken Gordon chronicles his rise from the sandlots of Ironton to the biggest stage in college football. Along the way, you will be entertained, enlightened and inspired as you come to know and admire the little kid that could and the family that raised him to do it. What Buckeye could not be proud of this tale and thrilled it is being told? Go. Get a copy. It's a great read. Enjoy it while you are waiting on me to finish Stories of the Shoe. While you are at it, look for my picture of Tyler on page 107, the one I took that says "I've Arrived". I gladly shared it with Ken and his publisher to use in the book.

It's available at: Barnes & Noble

At $11.65 it's a bargain!

Last night at the end of media day, most of the crowd was at midfield, where the writers surrounded Terrelle Pryor or Coach T. I looked to the south stands and there was James Laurinaitis, about the 20-yard line, all by himself. I headed down. About the time I got there a small child walked up with a football. James obviously enjoyed signing it. When he was done I asked, "Got a minute?" "Sure", he replied. It was just him, the recorder, and me. There we stood in the 'Shoe.

He talked about what it meant to be a Buckeye, to play in the Horseshoe... why he came there, why he came back... paying forward, paying back... his faith and more. The recorder running, I listened spellbound as Jenny snapped pictures. You may have heard James on television, but to be in his presence is just an amazing thing. Polite. Articulate. Kind. Honest. Intelligent. Religious. Grateful. Humble. Intense. Gentile. Genuine. Jenny was mesmerized and later agreed that all these words described the James Laurinaitis we had listened to.

I had him to myself for maybe 8 minutes, but eventually the other writers saw I had him cornered. Soon there was one, two, and then a dozen or more microphones joining mine. He went on another 10 or 15 minutes until everyone's questions were satisfied.

I am not one to wear a numbered jersey to a game. That's not me. But if I did the number would be 33. Anyone who knows him cannot but help be proud of James Laurinaitis the person, proud that he is one of ours, and proud of the way he represents The Ohio State Buckeyes.

I have spent the 10 days since surgery on my couch. Days are spent sitting with my arm propped on three pillows, nights I sleep there with it wedged on my chest so swelling stays down and I don't roll on it. Progress is s-l-o-w! Doc said I couldn't drive or go to work, but he never said I couldn't ride. So yesterday evening, with Jenny kindly offering to drive me to Columbus, and with my arm riding on 3 pillows, we made the 4 hour round trip to media day in the 'Shoe. It was great to get out and even better to be part of the festivities in the Horseshoe.

Media day is team picture day and the only time the writers are allowed unrestricted access to all the players and coaches. Mix in player's parents and families and it is a gold mine of memories of Ohio Stadium. It is held on the field, in the stadium. I made the most of it, coming away with 10 recorded interviews and several other contacts. I thought the OSU Gods were shining on me when I got eight minutes one on one alone with James Laurinaitis. Then, just when I thought it couldn't get any better, it did. While about 25 writers mobbed Coach Tressel, I found Ellen Tressel patiently waiting by herself off to the side. I walked up to her and said, "They all want to talk to him, but you're the one I want to interview". She was most gracious when I asked if it was okay to turn on the recorder and enthusiastically shared some thoughts about the Horseshoe and it's meaning to the Tressel family. The high from those two interviews carried me all the way through the painful ride home

Left-handed...one handed...wrong handed... is an awful slow way to type. That's what I am reduced to right now. If my blog pen is a little quiet the next few weeks, you will know why.

Monday evening I wrecked my bicycle, which resulted in surgery to put 6 pins in my fractured right arm. I have spent the days since then on the couch, alternating between ice bags and Vicadin. I would love to say it happened ripping a mountain bike at warp speed down Mt. Everest. Truth is, it was just a freakish thing on a leisurely ride on flat pavement in our quiet neighborhood. I was cruising along when the front wheel caught an edge in the pavement. In an eye blink, it had turned 90 degrees and I went flying over the bike, landing on my wrist, shoulder, and the side of my face. Nasty as it was, I was lucky it wasn't a whole lot worse.

It is going to be a while before I am back to my on-the-go self! With the starting of fall practice, I had big plans to hit the book hard. This is definitely going to slow me down a bit for the next month; please bear with me. The pain I can tolerate, but the loss of time and delay is discouraging.

"...here, surrounded by the swirl of humanity in the heart of downtown in the Windy City, just beyond the shadow of the Sears Tower and a short walk from Navy Pier or the Chicago Mercantile Exchange, you can't elude the aura of Ohio State football. 'It is all around you, and it is everywhere,' Buckeyes linebacker James Laurinaitis said yesterday..."

So writes Matt Markey in today's Toledo Blade, one of the better articles I have seen describing the aura of Ohio State Football and the coming season. Read it at:

The Toledo Blade

It's everywhere. Would it be everywhere if Thomas French hadn't had a vision for the biggest concrete stadium west of the Alleghenies....if Howard Dwight Smith hadn't designed a Horseshoe where everyone could see and that would stand for 86 years? Would it be everywhere if Bill Knepper and Elvin Donaldson hadn't developed the ramp entrance, if Eugene Weigel hadn't perfected Script Ohio? What if Paul Brown would have stayed at Massillon, or Woody in Oxford, instead of coming to the 'Shoe. Would everywhere be nowhere if Woody Hayes and Ohio Stadium hadn't given opportunities to African American athletes in the early 50's, when other colleges wouldn't do that?

Yes, it is everywhere, and I am having fun chronicling the role Ohio Stadium has played making our Buckeyes the everywhere phenomenon.

It's a sad evening at this household, as it is for Buckeye's everywhere, with the passing today of Dr. Gee's Son-in-Law. The loss of Dr. Alan Moore, so talented, with so much yet to give for the betterment of humanity, leaves a huge hole in all our hearts, and reminds Ohio Staters everywhere that life is so very fragile. Sometime this fall, someone near you in the 'Shoe will loudly degrade a player for a pass he drops, or a coach for a play they call. When they do, think back to this day and remind yourself what really matters.

In his speeches, President Gee loves to say, "The sun never sets on The Ohio State University." Normally that is true, but tonight is an exception and darkness has come to Buckeyes around the globe. The sun will rise Scarlet again in the morning, but tonight there will first be Gray and then the darkness.

Peace be with Gordon and Rebekah Gee.

Ever look yourself in the mirror and wonder how someone so stupid managed to get through grammar school, let alone beyond? It's one of those days. I never heard from Brian Williams about his day in the 'Shoe. His executive assistant had corresponded that he would try to follow up. Of course, he was off to Afghanistan right after he spoke, and then Tim Russert tragically passed away. So I understood when I didn't. Last night I thought, maybe now that things slowed down, I should send another gentle email and see if he might still respond. So I crafted a carefully worded message stating I understood his busy situation and had no expectations, but if by chance he had any thoughts I would still welcome them. Proud of my prose, I hit the send button.

I have been getting home late from work lately. Normally I see the NBC evening news most evenings, but this week I have missed it. I thought tonight "Good, I get to see the news." As we sat down to eat, I flipped it on, and there was Brian, reporting live from Berlin with the Obama trip. Sometimes my timing just plain stinks.

One last story from the book signing. As I stood in Barnes and Noble at the Gateway last Wednesday evening, the folks in line were over at least number 400. In the middle of the line, standing there patiently, like anyone else, was my friend Dr. Donald Steinberg. If you are versed in Buckeye History, you know Dr Steinberg played on the '42 National Championship Team. If you are versed in medicine, you know he was a highly successful surgeon. And if you are versed in Buckeye Literature, you know he wrote "Expanding Your Horizons- College Football's Greatest Team", the fascinating story of his team and teammates, and the book that Coach Tressel had the 2002 National Champions read before their winning season.

If you know the above, you also know that Coach Tressel is extremely close to that group of guys. They were his Dad's generation. I am pretty sure Don Steinberg is on Coach's speed dial, or at the very least could probably get as many books as he wanted signed by Coach, any time, any place. But there he was, in a line of 400 like everyone else. If you have read the stories of his teammates and his generation, and if you have interviewed Dr. Steinberg, as I have, it comes as no surprise that he stood in line and waited his turn.

As I left the South Gateway parking garage last week after Coach T's book signing, I passed a parked window van squatting low in the back end. The headlights were aiming towards the sky and it was filled floor to ceiling with white boxes. When I noticed the Illinois plates in the corner of my eye, I hit the brakes and backed up. Tyndale House Publishers is in Illinois! Sure enough. I peeked in the van from my drivers window and on the side of the boxes was stamped "Winners Manual".

Four boxes across I would guess, each stacked four columns high to the ceiling, and probably four or five rows of that. Maybe 50 books in each box? $25 a book. You do the math. I quickly looked around for the men with the machine guns, hoping they weren't trigger happy about this guy backing his vehicle up to the van! Seeing none, I shook my head in amazement and headed on my way. The next day I would read in the paper the rest of the story, how they ran out of books at the morning signings, and had another dispatched a truck that very day. Apparently, it had arrived without being hijacked!

One leftover from the book signing. It hadn't really dawned on me that Coach T was left-handed until I saw him signing all those J Tressel's. When I got home, I mentioned that to Jenny, a southpaw too who I often razz about being a "wrong handed" person, that Coach was left-handed. She simply smiled and replied "All the great ones are. Coach, Barack Obama, me ..."

Touché

Have you ever thought about signing your name 4000 times in one day?

I was at the book-signing event at the campus bookstore Wednesday night and I figure that's what Coach might have done during his marathon day for the Campus Library. I haven't seen any official numbers, but my mental math says the figure might approach that. The line I was in had wristband numbers up to at least 500 and was still going when I left. Most people had the 3-book maximum and some went around twice. Reports I heard from several sources indicated the two earlier signings were similarly swamped. Don't know if it is true, but I was told several times that all of the first day sales, not just Coach T's percentage, went to the library. If so, you do the rough math..... 500 x 3 x 3 x $25 each. What a wonderful gesture.

I was struck by several things...including the potpourri of fans. Young old, near, far, modest means and swankly dressed. Some were robust, others need help in walking through the line. I talked to people in their 70's and 80's whose spouse or children had sent them down at 6 AM to pick up wristbands. It was orderly, festive, and fun. Through it all Coach never stopped signing, and yet found a way personally chat with each fan; often it was a humorous comment or funny joke. As I stood in the shadows and marveled at his quick wit and the ease that he connected with people, I thought of the picture the national media often paints of him as the bland guy in the sweater vest. How little they know. Maybe this book will change that. We already know it is going to build a whole lot of library.

"If the game of life were to end tonight, would you be a winner?"

So begins the prologue of The Winners Manual: For the Game of Life, which hits the bookstores tomorrow.

I had no more than posted my "Expectations" piece last night when I had a chance to read Chapter One of Coach Tressel's new book. (I would claim connections, but truth is I found it on the publishers website just like you could have.) In Chapter One, "The Journey of Success", Coach writes it much better than I did:

"A win or a loss does not make you or me a better or worse human being. This is
where, in our society, we've so easily lost perspective on the truth about who we are. We have to separate who we are from what we do...

...Success is an everyday proposition. It isn't defined by a championship game or the day you get your diploma, get drafted by an NFL team, make the big sale, land the account of a lifetime, or get your law degree. Don't get me wrong, those are great days, and we should celebrate those accomplishments. But the key to a successful life is in the journey and the process. It's that emphasis on the journey to success that we work on each day, step by step...."

It didn't take me long to become engrossed in and devour Chapter One. Its clear. The Winners Manual is a winner. Don't expect X's and O's; rather this is a chance to learn about life from one who has mastered it. A rare opportunity, it as close as you will ever come to getting inside the head of a very public man and very private person.

I will be heading to the bookstore tomorrow to pick one up. Will you? The proceeds go to the William Oxley Thompson Library Renovation Fund. Would you expect anything less from a man who is a winner in the game of life?

Well it's officially there. The big red bulls-eye on the back of our Buckeyes.

As I write this, the evening sun streams in my west facing office window and directly into my eyes. I only get that for a brief period in the summer when the sun is far into the northern sky. Much to my chagrin we have passed the summer solstice, the days are getting shorter already, and the sun is making a slow drift south as each evening it paints a brilliant sky. An outdoors guy, I dread this point in the summer, knowing that the days are getting shorter and my summer to do list is not shrinking nearly fast enough. As we all know though, the saving grace of giving up an endless summer, of facing autumn (and the not far behind winter), is the arrival of Buckeye football. It won't be long till the pop of the pads punctuates the coming chill in the air.

It's a ritual a hundred and nine years old. (Did leather pads pop?). In modern times, another ritual precedes it, that of the pundit's preseason predictions. As is expected, in several of them the Buckeyes are among the top of the heap. "Expectations are high in Columbus...," they write.

I wish they wouldn't use that word. At this keyboard, hope is high. Anticipation is high. Excitement is high. But expectations? Nay. Expectations and entitled both begin with e and in today's "e-world", nothing less than a BCS national championship seems to matter. I want to get back to the National Championship so bad I can taste it. I want to put a hurt on the SEC to shut them up. I want to quiet the critics in the national media who know not of what they write.

But expect it? Entitled to it? I played enough football in my days to know all it takes is a slip on a wet field, a crosswind as the kick goes up, a ball bouncing left instead of right, an inch here or a hand there.....and the season slips away. The only expectation we are entitled to is that Coach Tressel and the Buckeyes will still be in the hunt when the Wolverines come to town, and that they will give us their best and then some. I am confident by that measure that we will again be a winner. Anything beyond is the joy of the journey. Enjoy the coming trip and I hope to see you in Miami.

Today is a day that we as a nation count our blessings. One of my blessings is the literally hundreds of people I have had the privilege to meet in the course of this project. If I never sell the first book, or clear a dime (highly likely), I will still be a rich man for having come to know, and developed friendships with, the nicest group of Buckeyes you could ever imagine. July 4th seems a good day to share with you some uplifting correspondence I received from one of them.

If you follow this space, you have read "The Hat" stories below and the follow-up D-day post "Tribute to Fred". A couple of weeks ago, I received an email in response to these posts. I am sharing it with you today, with the permission of the sender:

I want to express my thanks for the wonderful articles you wrote about the "man in the hat". The gentleman you mentioned in the "hat" is none other than my Dad Fred. Dad just turned 92 (your math was correct!) On June 12th, Father's Day, he threw a big party a his home in Seabrook, TX. When I got to Dad's house there was a huge block "O" on the front of his house! Since Mom passed away some six years ago there seems to be a new style of interior decorating - scarlet and gray and anything Ohio State.

Fred's Son Mike

Who is Fred? What is Mike's last name? All that and more will be in the book of course, and if I told you now, you wouldn't need to read it would you. Stay tuned for more details. As for today, count the blessings that your nation, and people like Fred, have given you.

Unbelievable. Did you see it tonight? History made that is. The lowest NCAA seed ever to win a national championship in any sport. The kids with dangling fingers. The fingers missing ligaments, fingers dislocated, fingers that made defensive play after defensive play. The team that was down by 5 runs and dangling by a twig over elimination cliff just 24 hours ago. The third baseman that gobbled up everything hit to him, and the right fielder that had the best night hitting in the college world series ever.

If you didn't, you missed it. Maybe you were like half of the country, who instead watched some overpaid pros who won't bunt, who won't slide lest they scratch their expensive bling. I'll never understand why college baseball gets such short shrift. But if you are a baseball fan, and you saw it, you know how special it was. Congratulations Fresno State!

Tomorrow night Fresno State plays for all the marbles in the College World Series. It's the equivalent of a #13 seed making it to the final four!! If you haven't been watching this, you are missing some of the best sports on TV outside of Buckeye football. To me, it's more exciting than the pros. These kids can make plays! I know to many it is the final four, but me, give me the College World Series any day.

I was fortunate to have gone there a few years ago. It is the friendliest atmosphere you could ever experience....and the city of Omaha does a fantastic job. Many of the fans are there just because they like baseball rather than following any one team, and there is more camaraderie, more respect for the game, and less smack from the stands. One of my dreams is that the Buckeyes make it there before I get too old to go.

Tomorrow night I will be rooting for Fresno State, the Underdogs Bulldogs, to pull off the unthinkable. What does this have to do with Buckeye football. With Fresno State and Georgia it will be the WAC versus the SEC. Need I say more?

It's been a week since graduation day, but there's one more recollection that I didn't get posted. It's official, as far as I'm concerned. Brian Williams is a Buckeye. He earned his Scarlett and Gray stripes, witnessed by thousands in a brutally hot, sultry Ohio Stadium, when he began his commencement address with a big O-H, and these exact words:

"I'll be brief here today, because I know how hot it is out there, but at least I don't have to speak slowly and measure out every syllable, and explain everything as I go along, like you have to do up in Ann Arbor."

It brought the house down.

What a tumultuous week Brian had. Sunday, speaking in the 'Shoe. Tuesday, reporting live from Afghanistan. And since Friday, trying to cope with the tragic death of his friend Tim Russert. He is a busy guy, but when I emailed NBC news before commencement, Brian kindly replied to me through his executive assistant that he would try to send a note with his impressions of graduation after his day in the Horseshoe. That all seems so long ago now, and with all that has transpired, it will be understandable if that gets overlooked in his profound loss and the grieving process. If I do get something down the road, I will share it with you in the book. For now my thoughts are with the adopted Buckeye.

Sadly, we lost one of the good guys today. I spent the evening listening to tributes to my favorite television commentator Tim Russert. In the age of in your face commentary, to me Tim always stood above that as civil, fair, decent and genuinely interested in the collective good of our society. Measured by his intellect, rather than how much he shouted, he was a giant, the model of what journalism used to be, rather than what it has, in too many cases, become. We need more Tim's.

You may wonder what that has to do with this blog. For me, there is a personal connection. Tim Russert was in part inspiration for this project. At the time I was pondering my idea, I picked up Tim's second book, Wisdom of Our Fathers: Lessons and Letters from Daughters and Sons. In that book I read the collection of letters in which people shared their memories of their fathers...heartfelt tales of good times, funny times, sad times, tales of admiration, gratitude, and even tales of regret. As I read that book, and it's crafting, I saw in it my vision for what I was contemplating for this project. "This can work", I thought, the encouragement I needed at the time to develop this idea and take it on. Thanks Tim. When our time is called, we all should aspire to have lived our life as meaningfully and as decently as you did.

It was brutal today, but I, like thousands of other proud parents and grandparents, braved the heat to be in Ohio Stadium . I have been to many big football wins in the 'Shoe, but none can compare to emotion unleashed just outside that stadium when the new graduates first meet their proud parents and grandparents diploma in hand. For many it's the highest of high. Graduations run many emotions.....in and around the 'Shoe today I heard graduation stories that could be described as inspiring, historic, bittersweet, and some even sad.

For all of you who I gave my business card to today, and anyone else, please consider sending me your personal graduation story. What better opportunity, to honor for posterity, a son, daughter, niece or nephew. For the graduates, what better way to honor Mom, Dad, Grandpa or Grandpa, or anyone who sacrificed so that you might say you are a graduate of The Ohio State University. What better way to honor someone who cold not be there with you today in the flesh, but certainly was there in spirit? Email or call and if need be, I will help you with the details of how to tell your story.

Go Bucks!

If last night was any indication, perhaps a tradition was born. I, along with 300-500 parents and graduates were on the oval for the candle lighting ceremony. It was a simple but moving event. We heard from Dr. Gee, Archie and a student chosen to give the 2008 class address. We saw video highlights of the class's four years. Then, with the sounds of Orton Chimes in the background and the Oval lights dimmed, Dr. Gee and Archie each lit a candle, and the flame passed person to person until the entire 500 or so candles bathed the Oval in a soft warm glow. With that, the Glee Club led the group in the singing of Carmen Ohio.

I am off for the first ever candlelight ceremony tonight on the the Oval and will be in the stadium for commencement tomorrow. Look for the guy short bald guy with the white shirt and the Story of the Shoe lanyard!

As I was driving to Columbus this morning, the radio announcer mentioned that today, June 6th, was the 64th anniversary of D-Day. D-Day may not have the meaning to the younger generation that it does to someone like me, who can remember as a child sitting in a drive-in theater with my parents and watching on the big screen the first run of the movie The Longest Day. It should.

When the announcer mentioned it this morning, I thought of Fred. Who is Fred? One of my storytellers of course, who you will meet more fully and properly in the book. I have been privileged to meet the most remarkable Buckeyes over the course of this journey. Fred is one of them. Like many of his generation that I have talked to, Fred's story of the stadium and his years at OSU are intertwined and inseparable with World War II. Sixty-four plus years ago, Fred was in military intelligence and one of the men in the room when General Eisenhower and others planned D-Day, the invasion of Normandy. At the time, it was the largest navel invasion in the history of mankind. Who knows what our lives would be like today had it failed?

Fred, to you and all the others of your generation, we remember and on this day give thanks to all who had a part in it.

Blow the whistle. Time out is over. I'm back.

The wedding was wonderful! Newlyweds Curt and Amber have been to Jamaica and are back and settled in Columbus. The flowers are all planted, weeds pulled, and mulch spread. It is time to get back to work, and that I have, picking up several stories today at a very hot and muggy graduation rehearsal in Ohio Stadium.

It is not often I will use this space to praise a Wolverine. Today I will. My friend, professional colleague, and U of M graduate John Crumrine is retiring today.

I have known John for 30 years, give or take. A forester by training, John has been a talented conservationist and dedicated his life to public service. He retired a few years back from our agency, USDA - NRCS. That didn't last and he came back to work for the National Center for Water Quality at Heidelberg College. Today John leaves that post, this time he says it's for good. He will be missed. In a time when our land is being pressured to produce more food and more fuel, we need a lot more people like John.

John was one of those guys who came early, stayed late, took the high road, and just plugged away and did his job. His work with the land touched thousands of people. The soils of Seneca County, the trees of Northwest Ohio, and the water in Lake Erie will forever be better because of his work. They don't make them like John any more. Part scientist, part teacher, he was a gifted communicator who could take a complex issue and boil it down to something practical that the person on the street could easily understand. John would say it was because of his Michigan degree; of course I would joke that it is in spite of it.

For 364 days a year John and I are the best of friends. On the 365th, that 3rd Saturday in November, under the cold gray skies, well John and I agree to disagree. Even though he is a Wolverine, John graciously contributed his very own Story of the Shoe that will be in my book. You would like John, and when you read the book, I know you will like his story. It's a good one.

All the best to John and Susan.

You may have noticed my update pen has been quiet lately. Two reasons. Football news is slow and I've been busy.

The Davis household had a wedding and to get things ready I had a pretty long "honey do" list. On May 10th our youngest son Curt (the Architect of this website) and Amber Recker were married in a beautiful ceremony on a gorgeous sunny day. Jenny and I are thrilled we have gained another daughter and wish Curt and Amber all the best. The newlyweds will be residing in Columbus and Amber will be starting a new job as a cardiac care nurse at the OSU Roth Heart Hospital.

The second reason I have been busy is this is the planting season at the Davis ranch. Each spring my goal (much to the chagrin of Jenny and the neighbors) is to cram as many blooming plants...annuals, perennials, grasses, and bulbs....as I can on my half acre of paradise. The weather has not been cooperating, but I am about done....there are only about 8 flats and 12 gallon pots on the front porch yet to be planted. (I know, it's a sickness but what can I say? Some people play golf. Me, I grow things.) Of course, the Buckeye Bed is planted just outside our kitchen window, and come September, the mix of scarlet Impatiens and Gray Dusty Miller will be in its prime, just in time for opening day.

I will be back in the saddle tomorrow night though, as I am going to have dinner with Coach Tressel and hear him speak at the fund raiser for the Wilson Football Museum in Ada Ohio. Should be a great time. Report to follow.

If you haven't read the "Hat post" below, scroll down and read that first. In that post I wrote about my new acquaintance, who I shall simply call The Man in the Hat for now. My friend is back home in Texas and I called him one night this week. It ended up being a two-hour phone call. He talked and I listened. In between Buckeye stories, I got the most fascinating history lesson hearing his experiences in WWII.

When you come all the way from Texas, you make the most of your time in the 'Shoe. He told me that he and his daughter were among the last ones out of the Stadium. (Long story there) In any case, when they tried to leave from the Southeast corner by the team locker room, they found the gates already closed and locked. Of course, who should appear, and unlock the gates to let them out? It was none other than Coach Tressel and his wife Ellen.

As Coach was unlocking the gates, my friend said he cracked, "I see you're closing the place down". Coach laughed. Then my friend added, "I suppose your going to do the laundry as well!"

To which Ellen responded, "Oh gosh, please don't suggest that. He'd do that too!"

Some days it amazes me the breaks I get.

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you may remember that I already used this title in a post below. Last fall I told the story of getting so close to Dr Gee several times, but always coming up short. Finally one day I ambushed him in the press box. In the best tradition of the paparazzi, I thrust my recorder in front of him (an act of which I am not proud), and he graciously gave me some remarks for the book.

I have recorded more than 200 interviews over the course of the last year and a half. For most, I have even used two recorders. Each night after every home game, I diligently and carefully transferred the digital files from the recorder to my computer and then backed them up on a second hard drive. Somehow, in this process, I lost three files out of the 300 to 400 files I had. Guess who one of the three was! Of course, it was Dr Gee. Of course, it was one done with a single recorder and of course, it was as the song says, "gone, gone, gone!"

Or so I thought. Saturday in the 'Shoe I was talking to the man with the hat (see post below) when he said to me, "there is Dr. Gee". I turned and "there" was six inches from my elbow standing right next to me! I introduced myself, put my arm around Dr. Gee's shoulder, fessed up to being a real klutz, and said "We're gonna do this again!" Before he knew what hit him, he found a recorder in front of him and once again, he kindly obliged with some words of wisdom.

Thank you Dr Gee! (Oh, and this time I have it safely tucked away on four different drives, one of which is off-site and another that will be going in the bank vault real soon!

His hat caught my eye, but it was his story that warmed my heart during yesterday's spring game.

It was halftime of the Lacrosse game and the gentleman was sitting on a motorized scooter parked the walkway around the stadium. His daughter was on a folding chair beside him. From their vantage point at the west side of fifty-yard-line, it was obvious they had gotten there early.

Kneeling down beside him, I said, "My, what a hat that is." That's all it took for him to acknowledge me and begin his story. "The Hat" was a Veterans of Foreign Wars style hat. War medals and pins covered the right side, patches from the European Theatre of WWII the left. He told me his story began in 1934, when he enrolled at Ohio State during the depression. He was there for the Francis Schmidt era, attended the infamous '35 Notre Dame Game, and was involved with track and one time ran against none other than Jesse Owens. After graduating with a mining degree, he fought in Europe in the war that saved democracy.

As he was telling the many aspects of his Buckeye story, I was doing some mental math and figured his age to be somewhere around 92. He had come all the way from Texas to see this game, a game that sometimes the beat writers deride as a glorified practice. He had family in town, and when they picked him up at the airport, they had made a tape for the car ride home. The first song on it was "I wanna go back to Ohio State, the old Columbus town..."

While his words were fascinating, a simple action told the real story. As we were talking, I heard the band on the field strike up the chimes for Carmen Ohio. I stood up and removed my hat. He stopped talking, leaned forward, and with both hands, firmly grasped the railing, diverting his attention f