At roughly 3:15 p.m. Nov. 25, 2003 I got into my car, headed nowhere in particular. I simply needed to be alone.
After experiencing the greatest season of Buckeye football in a generation as a freshman at Ohio State the year prior, I knew not what to do with this feeling. Sure, I'd grown up in Ohio and hated the school up accordingly throughout the rough periods of the '90s, crying after watching Tim Biakabutuka run through my favorite college team in 1995 while my hometown pro team had begun packing their moving truck.
But my experience with that team in maize and blue was hardly personal. These were villains on TV, no different than Mr. Burns or Vince McMahon, constantly foiling the plans of the characters I loved. Growing up in Cleveland exposed me to plenty of 'fans' of our rival, regularly mentioning the names of fellow Ohioans like Charles Woodson and Desmond Howard but without having any real connection to the program of their own.
My only real-life exposure to that point had came in the 2002 edition of The Game, a 14-9 victory followed by rushing the field and singing 'Carmen Ohio' with Darrion Scott's giant arms around my shoulders; a memory that will never fade. So after watching John Navarre beat my beloved Buckeyes just one year later sparked feelings of anger, sadness, and simply confusion.
I didn't know where I was going, and after two hours of aimless driving around Columbus, I was forced to face a world in which my Buckeyes had once again lost to their rivals. Yet the irony of the situation was that I was nestled in the safest territory I could imagine at that moment, surrounded by thousands of fellow OSU students dealing with the same emotions. If only I had known how scarce that refuge would become.
Nearly five years later, at a Halloween party in 2008, I'd meet the most important person in my life. Having moved to Chicago earlier that year, I'd become exposed to alumni of virtually every other Big Ten school for the first time in my life, finding that Hoosiers, Badgers, Illini, and Hawkeyes were all usually pretty nice.
Yet no one was more surprised than I was that my new girlfriend had spent four years studying in Ann Arbor. How could I, the biggest Buckeye fanatic around, the one who spent hours combing through message boards and reading every online article in sight, handle spending all my time with someone who was supposed to be my direct and equal opposite?
Luckily our paths crossed at the exact right time in history. The program up north was on the decline and Rich Rodriguez was just beginning his failed experiment at Schembechler Hall while Ohio State was regularly appearing in BCS bowl games. We even ceased making any type of friendly wagers on the outcome after OSU cruised to victories by a combined score of 100-24 in the first three years we were together.
The 2011 season served as the lone aberration to the trend, as the Buckeyes fell, 40-34, to cap off a season of unrest just as their opponents appeared to be on the opposite track after hiring Brady Hoke. Yet, the next three years seemed to fall in line with the story to which we had grown accustomed. OSU would enter the contests as favorites, and always walk out the victors.
After seven years together the most tensely fought battles between our alma maters have involved Aaron Craft and Trey Burke, not the flagship football programs for which our institutions are best-known. Though some of the games have been close, such as 42-41 victory in 2013, the game has rarely had the same lead-up it did before 2008.
But not only do I now spend every single day with one of these should-be villains, I spend quite a few football Saturdays with countless others. I've even become close with a number of my supposed adversaries, some of whom have played big parts in some of my most memorable moments. This crew has always been proud of their alma mater, but has never had the opportunity to rub my face in a meaningful victory ... Which is why this year's contest feels different.
Since Jim Harbaugh was hired last winter, there has been a noticeable return in the confidence of those clad in maize and blue. With only two losses, each to a top-15 opponent, has inspired even more confidence in this fan base desperate to return to the top of the college football pyramid.
The 'Ten Year War' between Woody Hayes and Bo Schembechler was so intense, not just because of the proximity of the two universities and the stakes involved, but because of the relationship those two men shared. Their lives had become entwined years prior when the latter played for the former, then followed him to Columbus to become a trusted assistant. They nearly drove themselves mad in their annual quests to outwit the other because they knew they'd be reminded of it so often, win or lose.
There is no need for a 'hate week' leading up to this matchup in our house, and not because neither of us care any less about Saturday's outcome. Instead, while many of our respective fellow fans might go months at a time without a reminder of what this game means to their rivals, we see it every single day.
Instead of denying the fact that our rooting interests are directly opposed, we've embraced it. After being told roughly 10,000 times that we are "like that ESPN commercial," that became our Halloween costume one year.
As odd as it may sound, it even set the tone on our wedding day. As if watching half the dance floor immediately clear upon the playing of 'Hang on Sloopy' or the constant battle of cheers and boos that came from either side of the room during toasts, we designed 100 custom sunglasses to let our wedding guests' allegiances be known. We even took those shades with us on our honeymoon, littering our house with even more photos to remind each other of our respective alma maters.
We've visited each other's campuses, gone to games in the 'Shoe and the Big House, dined at Katzinger's and Zingerman's. Columbus and Ann Arbor are each part of our relationship and who we both are now.
With all this in mind, some might think I care less about the outcome of Saturday's game. Those people would be dead wrong.
I talk, watch, and think about the team in maize and blue endlessly. I already have half their scouting report written in my head before watching a single minute of film this week. I think all year about this weekend's matchup because it's impossible in my house not to.
The tenor of our house may get a little tense during the game this weekend, yet neither of us know how much so with both teams playing at high levels for the first time in our relationship. Never before have the stakes been this high.
What would happen should her team come out on top? Will she rub it in my face and gloat without mercy, repaying me for the countless barbs I've tossed her way over the years? Or even worse, what if she says nothing at all, letting me stew in a never-ending sense of dread for the moment when she finally does say something about a win.
All I do know is that while most fans of our respective schools will move on with their weekends, visiting with family or heading out shopping after Saturday's victory, the 365-day cycle of the rivalry will never diminish around here for either of us. Go Bucks.
