As of this writing, it is unclear what form the 2018 Ohio State football spring game will take. As an abashed fan of the spring game, I'm hoping that it goes off without a hitch. Urban Meyer and his staff probably are more concerned with squeezing one last practice out of spring, but practical matters don't really concern me when it comes to this, our last peek at Ohio State football until it's August and we're all hot and annoyed and desperate for summer to end.
My love for the spring game doesn't really stem from anything at all to do with the game itself, which is usually a painful slog that most people generally lose interest in by halftime. Last year the Buckeyes opted for freaking two-hand touch for the first twenty minutes, which, while extremely logical and smart and whatever, also kind of sucked for anyone actually trying to watch it.
And while there have been some valiant attempts to keep the spring game interesting via student/student-athlete races or long-distance throwing competitions or a lacrosse game everyone says that they'll come early for but then doesn't, overall the excitement level kind of wears off at a certain point because the action on the field doesn't match the enthusiasm that people have for being in Ohio Stadium and watching the Buckeyes.
Which is the real appeal of a spring game in the first place: for a lot of people, especially people with kids, getting the whole family to a Buckeye game is prohibitively expensive, an expense either measured in dollar amounts or in time. Five bucks per person is a hell of a lot easier to swing than 87 bucks per person (or whatever a mid-September matchup against a WAC school is going for these days), and I love the idea that a kid can go to Ohio Stadium on the cheap and sit in the front rows to watch their favorite team throw the football around for a while.
But! There is no damn reason why, just because the cost of entry is a measly five American dollars, that Ohio State football can't put on one hell of a show. And it can be done without putting the likes of Dwayne Haskins and J.K. Dobbins in any undue risk. Here's how:
FIRST QUARTER
Just 15 minutes of regular ol' football. Keep most of the starters out if you wish, it doesn't really matter, because the scout team could roll out there and people would be pumped.
The one caveat to this is that the top two quarterbacks (in black no-contact shirt, of course), have to play for one series each that consists entirely of trick plays, most of which just result in a Hail Mary to the endzone.
Also, I really like the Urban Meyer/Who's Line Is It Anyway policy of just randomly awarding points for no real rhyme or reason. That should continue throughout the entire game. Touchdowns can be worth anywhere from five to eight points, depending on how cool the touchdown itself was.
SECOND QUARTER
Starts like the first quarter did, but there's a pause in the action after the first five minutes are played. Urban Meyer is made to sit at a desk at midfield and watch while his placekickers attempt field goals of 30, 40, and 50 yards. For every one they make, Meyer gets to blow off one regular season radio show. For every one they miss, he gets slimed while the kid from Pete & Pete laughs at him.
Meyer won't likely enjoy this, but we will, and that's really the entire point here.
HALFTIME
Keep the footraces and the QB competition stuff, that's excellent. The only way that I can think of improving it is by levelling the playing field somewhat when regular students get involved. Basically just allow them to cheat their asses off, really.
THIRD QUARTER
The team does not come out of the locker room, and are instead replaced by the lacrosse team, which has 15 minutes to play a game against whoever they were scheduled to take on that day.
After 15 minutes are up, the lacrosse team doesn't have to finish their game, but they will have to avoid running into the football team as they take the field for the final quarter of play, which admittedly is a doozy.
FOURTH QUARTER
In the great tradition of shows like Wild and Crazy Kids, Double Dare, Nick Arcade, G.U.T.S., and Legends of the Hidden Temple, players still deciding to risk life and limb by the fourth quarter will be forced to navigate a mostly-polyurethane deathtrap, populated by out of work actors in loincloths who have been ordered to scare the absolute bejesus out of them.
If athletes can reach the center of the maze where the appointed team captains are located (made up of the scariest Buckeye players currently in the NFL), they have the option of fighting them in an American Gladiator-style joust off with giant foam q-tips as they are perched on wobbly balsa wood platforms. If any person, be it player or student, is able to win the footrace, throw farther than anyone else, and reach the center of the labyrinth where they defeat the team captain, then that person automatically becomes head coach.
These are just (really great) suggestions, of course. The real point here is that while the spring game has increasingly become a showcase for the program to woo recruits and to market itself, it'd be a shame if the person who the spring game really serves, the diehard fan who doesn't get to come to games, ends up being pushed to the wayside. Instead of pretending that this is some kind of supernova event that could warrant increased ticket prices or some kind of exclusivity, keep the thing goofy and fun and weird.
The spring game isn't a game, and it never really ever was. In reality it's the most egalitarian event outside of the Skull Session that Ohio State football has. Let's hope that it stays that way.
