Casey Smith, a third-year in journalism, dresses up as Brutus Buckeye in 2013 for Halloween. Credit: Courtesy of Karen Smith
In the Smith household, there were three rules: Try your hardest in school, do your chores and hate that team up north.
The photos of me wearing Ohio State gear as an infant are evidence that the final Smith absolute was instilled in me at an early age, and my dad is to blame.
My dad, Gene Smith — who coincidentally shares a name with Ohio State’s athletic director — is a Buckeye, born and bred. Raised in Ashtabula, Ohio, he moved to Virginia after serving in the United States Air Force where he met my mom, Karen.
They settled down in the Hampton Roads area and had a couple of kids, but my dad’s northern spirit made its way south of the Mason-Dixon Line.
Throughout my years in school it was evident that I was an Ohio State fanatic. It became a part of my personality.
My friends came to know me as “that Ohio State fan,” always making it a point to talk to me about the Ohio memes and the current happenings of the football team — especially if the Buckeyes lost the previous Saturday.
It probably didn’t help that 75 percent of my wardrobe was Buckeye garb — thanks to the many birthdays and holidays in which I’d restock with the most up-to-date gear. But my fandom showed through my actions as well.
I flaunted my team to my friends, who generally had to wait until basketball season to get their jabs in as fans of Virginia and Virginia Tech.
The Monday and Tuesday before Thanksgiving break are when I did most of my trash talking, though.
One of my closest friends throughout middle and high school was a Michigan fan, and she did not hear the end of it. By the end of “hate week,” she probably knew the number of days it had been since Michigan beat Ohio State like the back of her hand.
Just out of spite, and staying true to the Buckeyes, any text I sent her that week was littered with red “X” emojis where any “m” was supposed to be.
She’s just lucky we never watched a game together, but it was always better watching with my family anyway.
The first thing my family would do the morning of The Game is place the “lucky” Ohio State flag out on its stand next to our mailbox in the front yard.
Then, we’d watch the pregame shows while making our two favorite game day foods: cheese fries and pigs in a blanket.
About five minutes before kickoff, we would get situated in our “assigned” seats before 3 1/2 hours of yelling, cheering and high-fiving, celebrating the most storied rivalry in college football, with the Buckeyes almost always coming out on top.
I was not alive during Michigan’s 86-0 demolition of Ohio State in 1902. I was not alive during Woody Hayes and Bo Schembechler’s “Ten Year War.” I was not alive during the 2-10-1 stretch under former head coach John Cooper.
But, I’ll be damned if every single year when the Saturday after Thanksgiving rolls around that I don’t carry those losses inside my heart, poured out into hatred for the Wolverines.
When the Wolverines leap and slap the “Go Blue ‘M’ Club Supports You” flag as they run onto the field at the Big House, I cringe. And I can’t stand when they show the highlight of Desmond Howard posing as the Heisman Trophy following his 93-yard punt return touchdown in 1991.
On the flip side, when I see the Buckeyes jumping on and tearing down the same “Go Blue” flag, Marcus Hall flipping off the Michigan faithful after being ejected for fighting in 2013 and Curtis Samuel leaping into the air in Ohio State’s double overtime win in 2016, I can’t help but give a smug, arrogant smile.
The 17 Ohio State victories in my lifetime mean nothing on the last Saturday this November. I still get butterflies that it might be the year the Wolverines get the best of Ohio State because, like in all great rivalries, the opponent always gets their foe’s best game.
This year will be the first where I won’t watch the game with my family, but believe me, they’ll be there with me along the way.
If I get the chance, I’m heading to any restaurant in Ann Arbor, Michigan, that sells cheese fries.
