Ohio State allowed 87 points over its final two games.
Twice in a row, actually. The last time the Buckeyes completed a full football season without allowing 87 points over its final two games we were still inhabiting a pre-pandemic world. We’ve got ourselves an impossibly lousy streak.
The last time we experienced three* consecutive off-seasons without a single fresh Gold Pants memory, Michigan was college football's reigning national champion*. No one who will be wearing a helmet in Ohio Stadium this fall was close to being conceived yet.
So it's been a minute since our breath smelled this bad for this long. The angst is justified.
This brief stumble creates a favorable environment for negativity. The Buckeyes will participate in 11 opponents' Super Bowls before getting the chance to terminate their droughts against Michigan, visiting Indianapolis and preventing two teams from piling up exactly 87 points at their expense.
it's hard to tether anything that happened in 2022 to the upcoming football season, good or bad.
That door won’t open until it's cold outside, so it would be emotionally taxing to start bracing right now. In a month we'll be served 11 glorious Saturdays to either savor or be miserable, fixated on the door. This should be an easy call.
Right around the Spring Game I decided to cut the miserable option out of my life. The misery of the moment the ball dropped had faded, and I assured myself Ohio State's loose, fiery and unconstrained performance in Atlanta brought tailwinds into 2023.
The three hours which preceded the final snap meant more to this season than that wide left kick. It was that inspiring, even without the happy ending the Peach Bowl deserved. And then this summer I got a moment with OC Brian Hartline and informed him of where my rehabilitated feelings had migrated heading into this season.
I told him I couldn't remember another Ohio State loss which had leaked such sustainable, positive energy into another season, at least for fans. I asked him if it felt that way inside the program, hoping he would validate my fragile coping mechanism.
Reader, he did no such thing.
"Every team has its own identity. Every season has its own identity. We're not going into this season referencing how we were last season. This team is going to be completely different. Georgia almost lost to Missouri before they played us. They didn't play their best football, but if you can win while playing 80% of your best, you're a good football team. That's the reality of college football.
When we walk into Indiana's stadium, we won't be referencing Georgia or anything from last year. We'll be looking to re-establish ourselves this year. Last year isn't a continuation into this year."
I'm pretty social among the sickos in our tribe, so I know I'm not the only one who had those soothing but apparently contrived Atlanta tailwinds swirling around inside the skull.
Hartline is among the world's straightest shooters, and his perspective made more sense than I wished it had. If anything, the Peach Bowl allowed the Buckeyes' still youthful head coach to refine his strategic chops, which were exposed last season after the bye week. Dude hates losing at an unhealthy Woody-ish level.
His program had a revenge event in clear view after Week 6. The most recent programs to beat Ohio State are Georgia, Michigan, Oregon, Alabama, Clemson and Purdue. So it's been a minute since retribution was on the menu, and he managed it poorly.
Applying logic to what Hartline believes about self-contained seasons, it's hard to tether anything of consequence from 2022 to this season, good or bad. Churning through five running backs and being forced to give a linebacker carries in the final regular season game probably won't happen again, maybe ever.
Who is this year's Jaxon Smith-Njigba? Clarification - breakout star or cursed injury? Maybe no one. It's not a recurring category; there's no tether here. That's not how this has ever worked, no matter how often columnists desperate for off-season storylines try to blog it into existence. Please don't google me.
Lathan Ransom - fresh cast prominently featured atop the article - probably won't have to play with a broken thumb after recovering from a shattered leg. He's unlikely to string together a couple of unfortunate slips at the worst possible times again too.
He left his first bowl game on a cart to the hospital, and allowed a devastating touchdown in his second one. Neither has any impact for or against how he'll enjoy this postseason.
And if Tommy Eichenberg is playing football with two broken hands again, we may have bigger problems as a society, like locusts and frogs. Any defensive back targeting Marvin Harrison Jr. this season might be called for targeting, or might not be. That's because one tether we can rely on is that nobody knows what targeting is.
Day twice taking his scariest aliens off the field in favor of converted walk-ons running a fake punt doesn't guarantee a third attempt on a new calendar, but it's also not worth the energy that bracing takes out of you. Speaking of running, will he finally allow his quarterback to use his legs again? We'll find out in a month.
Whatever happens should be uniquely 2023. No prequel. And no sequels.
