Another year, another spectacular crash and burn. By now it’s not exactly a seismic event for you to stumble onto one more article lamenting how this season has gone. However, unlike most pieces you’ve probably read – or at least most articles from a Columbus-leaning source – let me state for the record that I have never been a huge fan of this program. And at the risk of alienating half my readers (all…dozens and dozens of them) I would like to add that the primary reason for this is because their fan base is so ridiculous and annoying.
Of course, even my own in-town friends (and plenty out of town) have always considered me a heretic for admitting this. And I get it, sports are a fun diversion, and you should support your local athletes, et cetera et cetera, all of which is true. But for a large swath of the populace, their rabid devotion to this football program extends way beyond “diversion” and merely supporting the home team, into something they are foaming at the mouth about year round. For a season that lasts, what, something like 3 months and 11 games? It gets to be a bit much.
There is also one other weird angle here that I would like to address. As far as I can think of, the only other fanbase that acts in the manner I’m about to describe would be maybe the Dallas Cowboys’ backers. So already, with this fact alone, you’re not in the best of company – and even Cowboys fans have somewhat mellowed out with this attitude in recent years. But okay, the followers of most sports teams fall into one of two categories. Either you are boasting about how many titles your team has won…or you are commiserating about how long it has been since your team has won. Well, I suppose there is a third camp, those of the scrappy underdogs who have recently won a title, and therefore everyone is happy.
However you slice it, though, Buckeye Football fanatics fall into none of these camps. Instead, by whatever bizarre chains of logic have led them to think to this way, your typical OSU football zealot will ACT as though they win national titles left and right…despite almost never doing so. It’s a thoroughly baffling phenomenon. In the past fifty years, they have won the title twice. Twice. You are not the New York Yankees, folks. These are Kansas City Royals numbers.
It’s even more ridiculous when you consider that, in my opinion, the college football system is much more rigged than the major professional sports are. The top ten or so schools already have a leg up and will therefore continue to attract most of the best high school talent. This allows them to perpetuate this self fulfilling feedback loop, year in and year out. The big teams play the other big teams…then, regardless of who wins or loses, are given preferential treatment come playoff time over “strength of schedule.” And they retain their big dog status in recruiting the next class, and on and on and on. It would take twenty straight years of catastrophic, Cleveland Browns level ineptitude to unravel some of these quote unquote top programs.
Based on the evidence, I think any rational, level headed person might look at the OSU football results of the past four decades or so, and conclude that this has been a gigantic bust. Actually, that is what I’m saying: this program has been the biggest bust, in all of college football, for decades upon decades now. Despite its enormous recruiting pull, the most national press attention of any school, and what I would wager has to be one of the most profitable operations in the game, they still keep coming up short over and over again. This is without even getting into some of the outrageous sideline scandals, and also what you might say has been some charitable decisions from the playoff forming committees. But somehow, this information has just not transmitted to the Scarlet and Grey Fever riddled zombies.
I know this year’s playoff loss was an especially painful nailbiter, but still, they were lucky to have made it that far. This program has been given every break to grease the skids for its success, yet has consistently come up short anyway. Unless you are talking about what really matters, when you get right down to it, which is the money generated. But of course, the university itself would likely deny this was ever at the forefront of its thoughts. Sure. If pressed they would give lip service to athletics and competition and the great untapped potential of youth and so on and so forth, skating around the whole meal ticket angle presented by these collegiate sports. And in so doing, hope that you, the fan, conveniently forget about what they’re really playing for as well. Which I think works, by and large, as evidenced most recently by the reaction to this playoff loss – though insanely pumped up about the game beforehand, almost nobody I know has discussed it since. It all plays into this weird collective amnesia where Buckeye nation will continue acting as though they win titles constantly.
Having said that, I am a fan of the history of the football teams, and commonly find myself rooting for the players when they make it to the NFL. And when it’s been a disaster, this football team is usually if nothing else at least highly entertaining. Below I am going to sort out notable Buckeyes, past and present, alphabetically, based upon a few loose categories.
Personal Favorites
Cacchio, Chad: Among the more recent additions to my list, as much as you can call the year 2000 “recent.” But anyway every time I see or hear his name, I’m instantly drawn back to this memorable party in September of 2000, and watching him play. As a result, I will always think of this as The Chad Cacchio Game. And though this was his final year, became somewhat attuned to and followed his results from there. Glancing at his career overview now, I see that he played for them from 96-00, and enjoyed a fairly distinguished career, which included “academic all Big Ten” four times – not bad for a walk on! He even had to play for John Cooper the entire tour of duty, imagine that.
Since then, he has gone on to get a pair of degrees from OSU, first in business and then in dentistry. After which he opened up his own dental practice, on Lane Avenue. As soon as that went in and I drove past it, I instantly thought of that old game. And of course just had to look up and confirm, yep, this is the same guy.
George, Eddie: Number one on my list of all-time favorite Buckeyes football players. Just a class act guy, based upon everything I’ve known about him, to the extent I’m even willing to overlook that last season playing for the Cowboys. He won the Heisman in ’95 and, which I had totally forgotten about until researching this, was drafted by the Houston Oilers and played for them in their final season, before relocating to Nashville and becoming the Titans. We got to watch him compete in the Super Bowl in January 2000 – for my money, one of the best ever – and he later returned to OSU, after his playing days ended, to finish his degree. He would open a restaurant on south campus called 27 Grille, in honor of his jersey number that was eventually retired. Considering he cracked 10,000 rushing yards and holds a veritable cruiser ship full of Titans records, all without missing a game, I’m still astounded that he hasn’t been elected to the Hall Of Fame.
Ginn Jr., Ted: To this day, I can’t see his name without thinking of an OSU game where my buddy Matt Montanya, watching it on TV, keeps rooting him on whilst nonetheless mispronouncing his last name as “gin.” Which in turn always compels me to sing the chorus to that Kiss tune Cold Gin. Ted was a track star in his younger days and could have excelled at this as well, but chose football instead. He would go on to have an accomplished 14 year pro career, after graduating, and is the only guy in this category that I got to see play live in the NFL.
Glenn, Terry: I know he had his personal problems, but still, I was always rooting for him. Also could potentially get to “double dip” on this website in that he was actually born in Columbus, a rarity among those featured here. His biggest claim to fame is possibly that he caught Tom Brady’s first ever TD pass in the NFL. That fact alone should have him popping up in trivia games for roughly the next 3000 years. Glenn played in one Super Bowl, and was later with the Patriots during their first championship season, though they decided not to give him a ring. He would wind up crossing paths with Eddie George for that one season in Dallas.
Katzenmoyer, Andy: Andy here endured considerable ribbing during his OSU days, mostly due to the lightness of his class schedule. But he was drafted by the Patriots and spent 3 seasons with them, meaning that he and Glenn spent a few years together there. Like Terry, however, he was injured and did not play in Super Bowl XXXVI. Mainly I’m a fan now because, for reasons I can’t quite recall, I sent him a connection request one time on LinkedIn. Which he accepted.
Pace, Orlando: The Buckeyes were on a real roll in the late 90s with the draft picks, including this guy. Unlike everyone else featured here, however, including the criminally underrated George, Pace would go on to make the Hall Of Fame. He was also the #1 overall pick in the draft, taken by the Rams in 1997. After which he spent a dozen years with them, as part of their notorious “Greatest Show On Turf” defense, appearing in two Super Bowls and winning one.
On a personal note, we kept spotting him around town, too, shortly after his OSU career had wrapped. Alan, at the time one of my roommates, came home one day gushing that he’d just seen Pace at the DMV; in an even more amusing twist, right after the Bethel Road Kroger store opened, though I didn’t know it, he and former Buckeye coach John Cooper were on hand for an autograph signing session together. As a part-time employee there, I often felt out of the loop, and it wasn’t uncommon to not have the first clue about store happenings. So it transpired that I was hanging out behind the meat counter that day, when a dad approached with his young son in tow.
“Hey, can you tell me where to find Cooper and Pace?” he asked.
I, thinking that this must be the name of a law firm or something, and having just moved to Columbus not even two months ago, told him, “sorry, I’m not from around here.”
“Sorry, I’m not from around here,” he repeated, scoffing and shooting me disbelieving, halfway dirty looks as he whisked his son off to find help elsewhere. Only later would I learn what he was talking about.
Smith, Robert: Like Eddie George, I always thought he was a classy dude. Another running back, he got in and out, made his money and bolted for the softer pastures of a TV analyst instead. Smith played 8 seasons for the Vikings and could have kept going, considering he led the league in rushing his final season. I remember reading an article, though, where he explained he wanted to get out at the top of his game and without having suffered any major injuries. So hats off to him. At the time of his retirement, he was Minnesota’s all-time leading rusher. As far as personal anecdotes, I remember Bridgette telling me one night that she was at Bumpers on Bethel Road, and Robert Smith was there as well. Although at the time I clearly was not following his career too closely.
“What, the guy from The Cure?” I questioned.
“My brother said the same thing,” she marveled, then added, “no! Not the guy from The Cure! Robert Smith the football player, from the Buckeyes!”
Spielman, Chris: Out of everyone on this list, it’s possible Spielman has maintained the closest ties to the community. After his playing days ended – a long, decorated career in the pros, mostly with the Lions, where he became their all-time leader in tackles – he returned here to attempt coaching OSU (passed over in favor of Tressel) before eventually winning a consolation prize of sorts, a gig heading up the Arena League’s Columbus Destroyers. He and his former wife, the late Stefanie Spielman, were of course majorly involved in the community, too, primarily in their efforts to raise awareness and funding for cancer research.
The Rogues Gallery
Bellisari, Steve: mostly what he’s remembered for now, of course, was his DUI arrest while a QB for OSU, and subsequent stint in the clink. Compared to everyone else in this category, his offenses are pretty minor. But hey, you’ve got to establish a floor somewhere. After losing his starting job as a senior, thanks to the drunk driving episode, he was brought in late as a sub in the Outback Bowl, but concluded his Buckeye career by throwing a catastrophic interception. Somehow he was drafted by the Rams anyway (as a safety, but still) yet failed to appear in a single game.
Clarett, Maurice: football-wise, he really just had the one season – but what a season it was. As a freshman, he led the Buckeyes in rushing on their big national championship team of 2002, the program’s first title since Woody Hayes was stomping around on the sidelines. Then was booted off the team for personal issues in September of ’03 and never played for them again. By some miracle, like Steve Bellisari, he too was drafted (Broncos) yet never appeared in an NFL game.
And it’s only after this that the real trouble started, beginning with an incident on New Year’s Day 2006, where he robbed some people at gunpoint at the Opium Lounge. Then, before that case was ever wrapped up, he found himself in hot water again in August of that year, a police chase stemming from an illegal U-Turn. Once they caught up to him, cops found Clarett heavily armed and with an open bottle of vodka in his car. While spending a few years in prison, however, he was able to begin taking correspondence courses, and by all accounts has really turned his life around.
Schlicter, Art: if only that were true of this guy. His collegiate career was actually almost blemish free, surprisingly enough, apart maybe from that one infamous interception, which led to Woody Hayes’ firing over The Punch Felt ‘Round The World. But even back then, there were apparently some grumblings that he had a gambling problem, though somehow this didn’t raise any red flags even after he was spotted at Scioto Downs with coach Earle Bruce.
The Baltimore Colts took him as the fourth pick in the ’82 draft, which is basically about the last positive moment of his football career. In four years he failed to win a game as a starter, threw about four times as many picks as touchdowns, and blew every penny he had (as well as those belonging to others) on gambling and other weird schemes. Since that time gambling, theft, and drug charges have landed him in hot water repeatedly, including a ten year prison stint. You would need quite the index to catalog his offenses at this point.
Random Ongoing List of Many More Other Dudes
Bellisari, Greg: Linebacker who enjoyed a cup of coffee with the Buccaneers. Brother of that Greg fellow listed above.
Bosa, Joey: Attended OSU from 2013-15. Drafted 3rd overall by the Chargers in 2016 and picked up a Defensive Rookie of the Year award. Was most recently seen making a total ass of himself in a playoff loss to the Jaguars.
Bosa, Nick: Joey’s younger brother. His 49ers were in a playoff game earlier that same day, but won in convincing fashion. I have to imagine this hasn’t happened very often – brothers appearing in an NFL playoff game, on the same day, but for different teams. He attended OSU from 2016-18 and was taken 2nd overall.
Frey, Greg: Starting QB in the 80s who had some decent moments. The highest he ever rose professionally, as a player, was one season in the Arena League. But he’s enjoyed other successes, as an assistant coach for a couple local high schools, another gig coaching players on the side, and in more recent times as a football analyst on TV.
Germaine, Joe: This list is heavy on the quarterbacks, although then again that is the most famous position and these guys get the most press. It’s weird how many of these players crossed paths in the NFL there for awhile in the late 90s and early 00s. Buckeyes still get drafted by the boatload, of course, but they don’t all seem to wind up on the same team. In Germaine’s case, it’s interesting to note he was drafted by the Rams the same year (’99) that they decided instead to take a chance on some Kurt Warner guy. Joe got into a few games as a backup, though, and won a Super Bowl ring that year, alongside our old friend Orlando Pace. Germaine hung around the NFL for six years, then moved on to the Arena League for a spell.
Griffin, Archie: Truly a local legend, all the more so in that he was also born in Columbus. Still the only ever 2 time Heisman winner, in ’74 and ’75. He had a decent if somewhat underwhelming 7 year career with the Bengals, playing in one Super Bowl with them, and also wrapped things up with a year in the USFL. The Buckeyes retired his number (45) quite some time ago and he is of course in their Hall Of Fame. Oddly enough, I’m not entirely sure if I’ve met Archie or not – he was often found signing autographs around town (and probably still is), including multiple occasions at a Kroger where I worked. It seems like I would have made an effort at some point to drift by his table. But I honestly don’t remember ever doing so. I kind of lost interest in meeting celebrities somewhere along the line, because you’re not going to have a “real” conversation with them, and I don’t really care about the autograph. Of course, had I known I was going to start this website someday, I might have held a different opinion on these matters. That autograph would look pretty cool at the top of this page, for example.
Hoying, Bobby: I have memories of him playing for the Eagles, wasn’t aware he moved on to the Raiders after that. Even though he got to play in the AFC Championship game for them in 2000. An early 90s star for OSU, he’s high on the leaderboard for them in a few different all-time categories. As far as the NFL, eh, while there are a few highlights, on the downside, he apparently still holds the record for most completions in a season with a goose egg on the TDs.
Hubbard, Sam: Well now here’s another Bengal, a current one who was recently glimpsed running back a fumble for 98 yards, in a playoff win over the Ravens. Though still quite young, I think it’s safe to say that, as a defensive player, this will go down as the most famous moment of his career. After blocking a goal line charge, the ball popped loose and Sam here sprinted the distance with it. Though plainly giving it his all, he wasn’t exactly motoring, and yet no one from Baltimore caught up to him anyway. The missus and I were cracking up at the shots of him immediately afterwards on the sidelines, oxygen mask strapped to his face, as the announcers declared he wouldn’t catch his breath until Tuesday. Yeah, that seemed to pretty much sum it up. But raise your helmet to this guy, rising to the occasion in such epic fashion.
Krenzel, Craig: He will probably never have to pay for another beer in this town as long as he lives. With Craig at the helm, the 2002 squad won their first national title since Woody Hayes was menacing the sidelines, a feat they’ve still only accomplished once more in the 20 seasons since. As far as being fit for the NFL – not so much, with just a single season with the Bears to his credit. Then again these guys all have Wikipedia pages, so what do I know.
Tomczak, Mike: I actually remember this guy playing for OSU, as a little kid, from my dad watching the games. Probably because he had a somewhat funny sounding name, at least to this wee lad. And then he hung around the NFL for an absolute eternity, I recall (15 years, it turns out), with some huge moments. None larger, perhaps, than participating in the Chicago Bears’ infamous Super Bowl Shuffle video. Although yes, it’s true, he did get some playing time in their ’86 Super Bowl victory. Somehow that season with the Browns totally escaped my memory, though he did have that memorable resurgance with Pittsburgh to close out his career.
On this page, I will be discussing noteworthy people who hailed from this fair city, or else made a significant impact upon moving here. I’ve been torn on what to do about OSU athletes, who typically blow into town for 3-4 years and then right back out again, though the Columbus days might represent their most popular era. But I think that will get its own separate post at some point, alleviating this dilemma.
Hanif Abdurraqib
A relatively new-ish writer I’ve started getting into. I had heard about him somewhere, reserved one of his books from the library…and only then learned, upon cracking it open, that he was actually from Columbus. I always love it when things like that happen, because it feels like the universe is sending some giant flashing arrows pointing the direction out for you, that you are headed the right way.
He’s got a strange style that I really dig, both in making some unexpected connections between various topics, but also from the literal style itself – the way he constructs his sentences and the pieces as a whole. The first book I read of his was the essay collection They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us, which is mostly I would say concerned with music criticism. Even here, however, you encounter this unique combination of some really deep insight, yet presented without a ton of academic stuffiness. It’s a potent cocktail that mostly works, to great effect.
On the very first page of that one, he makes an oblique reference to attending Red, White, and Boom, and from there, Columbus references abound: among those that I pick up on are a NOFX show at the Newport Music Hall, Huntington Park, Bexley, Constellations playing at The Basement and their Alpha EP, the band named Defiance Ohio, Scottwood Elementary, Livingston Avenue, MarShawn McCarrel, this Replica of Wales Window from the rebuilt 16th St Baptist Church, a Fall Out Boy show at The Basement, Capital University (here during 9/11, plays soccer), the King-Lincoln Bronzeville district, John Glenn Airport. The most hilarious segment for me though was clearly the one where he’s ripping on Twenty One Pilots.
His next essay collection, A Little Devil In America, doesn’t feature quite as many specific Cbus references, but is equally compelling from a quality standpoint. In that one I know he mentions this former bar on King Avenue called Hampton’s, and German Village, and some noteworthy graffiti spotted in various locations around town. Also discusses his high school without (as far as I noticed) specifically naming which one it was. Although it says on his Wikipedia page that he graduated from Beechcroft, so that must be it.
George Bellows
As one of the celebrated “Ashcan” artists of the early 1900s, Bellows seems to have recognized his calling in life at a very early age. Even in elementary school, his teachers would often adore their classrooms with this artwork. He was also a decent baseball and basketball player, taking all these talents with him to OSU, where among other things he contributed drawings for the student yearbook. Upon graduation, his parents were hoping he would do something a little more “respectable” career-wise. But, alas, he moved to New York City and became a famous painter instead.
Bizzy Bone
This founding member of celebrated hip-hop group Bone-Thugs-n-Harmony happens to be the only one who doesn’t originally hail from Cleveland. That’s right, he actually grew up here, at least up through the age of four. His story is far crazier than you might be aware, however, considering he was abducted at that age and taken to Oklahoma by his mom’s boyfriend. The authorities only found him a couple of years later, after his photo appeared in the end credits for the movie Adam.
Unlike many of the other future celebrities in this post, however, he did in fact return to Columbus and continue to maintain roots here. In fact, he was spotted constantly in the Morse Road Kroger where I worked. During these occasions whispers would circulate through the store mighty quickly: “Bizzy Bone’s here…psst…Bizzy Bone just came in the store!” So I think he must have lived nearby. Yet although always into Bone Thugs from their first album onward, I’m not quite sure why, either I was too timid or too cool at the time, but I never shouted out a hello and certainly never ran up to speak to him. Which now seems quite stupid.
Pat Borders
Referring to his semi-obscure catcher as “famous” might be a stretch, but I think anyone who makes it to the major leagues has a somewhat legitimate claim to that title. And he did after all win a couple of World Series, in fact was MVP of the ’92 Fall Classic. Yes he did move to Florida at a young age, just one of the many figures on this list who doesn’t have any apparent Columbus ties beyond that point. But he played for Indians for 3 years, so that’s something, and is also oddly enough one of just two American born players in history to have won a World Series and an Olympic gold medal (stranger still, both hailed from Ohio.)
Bernie Casey
When I worked at Wild Oats, we had this janitor we referred to as “U.N. Jefferson” based upon his vague resemblance to that character from Revenge Of The Nerds. Unbeknownst to us at the time, however, the guy who actually played U.N. Jefferson in the movie…graduated from East High School, right here in Columbus!
Talk about a mind-blowing coincidence, when eventually discovering this. But in all seriousness, Bernie Casey would wind up enjoying a fascinating career, clear up until his death in 2017. He starred at Bowling Green as an athlete, made All-American while there, then spent 8 years playing football in the NFL, during which he made one Pro Bowl and enjoyed moderate stardom. And only then did he get into acting, eventually compiling a far more illustrious resume than I’m sure even he could have possibly envisioned – one that will include numerous guest spots on TV, appearances in a Scorcese movie and a James Bond movie, a surprising amount of other hit films but then also, yes, possibly his most famous role, in a few chapters of that Nerds franchise.
Beverly D’Angelo
This famous actress is from the Upper Arlington area. Her grandpa, Howard Dwight Smith, designed the Shoe, among other buildings around town, and her dad, Gene D’Angelo, worked at WBNS.
Jay DeMarcus
Bass player for Rascall Flatts hails from Columbus and lived here his entire childhood. He attended the Tree Of Life Christian school and also that Fort Hayes magnet school.
Buster Douglas
This unknown boxer came from out of nowhere in 1990 to take down an undefeated Mike Tyson, thus winning the heavyweight crown.
Guy Fieri
Vaguely amusing Food Network guy who reminds me of my old friend Doug, except with spiky blonde hair. This is the sanitized TV version of Doug, mannerisms intact but minus the foul behavior. If left to his own devices, however, Doug would have come up with a way better show than Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives.
In his first ever book, 2008’s Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives: An All American Road Trip…with Recipes! Fieri lists his top 60 restaurants in the country. Not a single Ohio eatery makes the list, much less one from Columbus. I alternate between thinking this is completely ridiculous, versus grudgingly admitting it’s kind of cool and maybe displays a little integrity. Then again, if he couldn’t find a single restaurant from his hometown to list among the country’s finest, he probably wasn’t trying hard enough. Then again, I think he moved away from Columbus at a fairly early age.
Hank Gowdy
In a town famous for its athletes, he just might crack the top ten list for those born here. And is likely the most famous baseball player who took his first breath in Columbus. His statistics actually don’t look that remarkable, although in a 17 year MLB career, interrupted by his service in WWI, he compiled a solid defensive track record. But what he’s most known for today, apart from appearing in a few World Series and winning a couple of them, is that he was the only major leaguer to serve in both World Wars – that’s right, at the age of 53, he went right on ahead and enlisted all over again. In 1918 he was in fact the first MLB player to enlist in WWI, period. He later went on to manage the Cincinnati Reds, among other coaching gigs. After dying at the ripe old age of 76, Gowdy Field was named in his honor, and he is buried here in Columbus.
Unfortunately, Gowdy Field fell into disrepair after a number of years. Owing to its prior status, it is given a West 3rd Avenue address, although the actual field part remaining is nowhere near 3rd Avenue now.
Bob Greene
You know, it’s surprising what wacky careers a lot of these people have had, even ones you maybe sort of thought you knew quite a bit about. Greene, who was born in Bexley in 1947, would become an award winning journalist for the Chicago Tribune, in addition to providing commentary on the TV news show Nightline. He has also written countless popular books.
Prior to this, though, there are the expected cutting teeth type stints working for a couple Columbus papers. Okay, that’s all well and good and mostly expected. But then also what about his time spent singing and playing guitar on the road with the surf rock group Jan and Dean? Huh? Oh yeah, and he went on to play…Santa Claus…for Alice Cooper’s tours in the early 1970s.
Well, I mean, it doesn’t sound like this guy left much on the table, I have to tell you. If curious to find out more, his books And You Know You Should Be Glad and Late Edition cover his early days growing up in Bexley and working for those C-bus papers, respectively.
Rahsaan Roland Kirk
Ah, now this is more like it. This internationally renowned jazz musician was born in the now defunct Flytown neighborhood in 1935. An accident at the age of 2 rendered him blind, although it’s likely that the unfortunate loss of this sense did heighten his musical sensibilities. He would later study at the OSU School For The Blind and is in fact most likely its most famous alumnus. At the time, locals mostly thought his music sucked and he had to travel elsewhere to gain an audience – only much later would C-bus realize the error of its ways and come to embrace his excellence. Sounds about right. Mayor Jack Sensenbrenner did apparently announce on December 10, 1970, that it was officially “Rahsaan Roland Kirk Day,” but its honoree had long since left town by this point.
Roy Lichtenstein
This famous modern artist lived on Iuka for a while, near the OSU campus, and now has a statue at the airport.
Lil’ Bow Wow
Although he would soon drop the “Lil'” from his name, I think most of us can agree that Bow Wow (Shad Moss) is still mostly referred to by this name. This rapper’s big claim to fame is he was performing at some L.A. show at the age of 6 and somehow caught the attention of Snoop Dogg. He would appear in the video for Gin N’ Juice a short while later, then eventually launch his own recording career at the ripe old age of 13. He enjoyed some top ten hits and even headlined the movie Like Mike, and is still somehow just 37 as of this writing.
Jerrie Mock
Almost nobody knows that she is the first woman to fly solo around the world, which is kind of sad. I feel like 99.9% of the people on the planet would get this wrong – as would I, until stumbling upon this factoid during my research here. She left Columbus on March 19, 1964 and returned just shy of a month later, on April 17. I’d never heard of her until recently, but love this story now. Which I guess is the point of this historical digging. This still seems somewhat insane to me, actually. How many of us, even now, for various reasons, would have problems flying around the globe in less than a month? Her plane was called Spirit Of Columbus and the TV show Family Ties once used that name for an episode, too – though it’s unclear if this was a coincidence, or intentionally done in her honor.
Jack Nicklaus
Everyone knows that he still holds the record for lifetime Majors won, which Tiger Woods has yet to take down despite his many comebacks. But these are all yawn inducing, in a way. What is local legend Jack Nicklaus really like, behind the scenes? This is what the people demand to know. Well, I can tell you that my stepdad caught him in action once during a Memorial tournament, and was less than impressed. He happened to be standing in the clubhouse and by chance witnessed the Golden Bear exiting a men’s room, at which point the golfing legend immediately reamed the nearest random employee, in front of everyone present, over the condition of said restroom.
Employee: Yes, Mister Nicklaus, I will take care of that as soon as possible.
Jack Nicklaus: No, you will take care of that now!
The spectators present, in a possible foreshadowing of his actual performance that day, exchange horrified glances. This is pure speculation, but I am hazarding a guess that the ongoing weather conditions at his signature tournament may have played a part in Jack’s foul attitude. If you do your research, you will discover that they basically bulldozed over Native American figurehead Chief Leatherlips’s stomping/burial grounds to build this golf course. From which point it began mysteriously raining at the Memorial tournament every year, except in the years it snowed. In late May. In more recent years they even tried moving the tournament up a week, except it has begun raining that weekend instead now. Naming a nearby road after Leatherlips has failed to appease him. I think you might have to knock off Nicklaus and/or reforest the golf course to reestablish this delicate balance.
Lest you think this superstitious nonsense, be advised that Barbara Nicklaus, Jack’s wife, has twice brought a glass of gin to place at Leatherlips’s current grave, upon hearing rumors that this would remedy the situation. The second time, the not-at-all-desperate-or-washed-up-jackass golfer husband drove her there. Although dismissing the entire plot as hokum, of course.
Paul O’Neill
Not to be confused with the former Secretary of the Treasury who spells his name the same way, this Paul played major league baseball for the Reds and Yankees from 1985 to 2001. He won a batting title in ’94, was named to a handful of All-Star teams, and is one of just 30 players to have won 5 World Series titles (one with the Reds, four with the Yankees). Oddly enough, he is also the ONLY player in history to have played on the winning side of three different perfect games. As far as his local ties are concerned, he went to Brookhaven High School.
I always thought he seemed like a cool, low key kind of guy. An impression that’s bolstered by listening to him in the broadcast booth after his playing days ended. Of course, all the modern reader probably cares about is that he also appeared in an episode of Seinfeld.
Tom Poston
This actor is most famous as a regular on Newhart, but guest starred in what looks like approximately every TV show you ever heard of from the 1950s up through 2007. He was born here in 1921, and graduated high school here, but doesn’t appear to have had much to do with C-bus beyond this point.
Brady Quinn
Even rarer a specimen than the Archie Griffin/Michael Redd type athlete (born here, starred at OSU) is one like Brady Quinn: born here, but starred at a completely different college. In his case, after setting the world on fire as a QB at Dublin Coffman, earning him mountains of praise in the Dispatch and elsewhere, he enrolled at Notre Dame and set numerous records there. Then the NFL came calling, beginning with a busted stunt helming the Browns, although he did manage to stick around with various teams for 7 seasons.
Michael Redd
You’ll see some conflicting reports, but most have it that future NBA star Michael Redd was born in Columbus. At the very least, he definitely grew up here, and attended West High – this makes him one of those relatively rare athletes who not only starred at OSU but actually hailed from our fair city as well. I remember following the big season, I think it was ’99, when he and Scoonie Penn took the Buckeye basketball team deep into the March Madness tournament. In 2000, he was drafted by the Milwaukee Bucks, and would wind up playing eleven seasons for them, followed by a final hurrah with the Phoenix Suns.
Eddie Rickenbacker
This world famous fighter pilot from WWI was born in Columbus and would eventually have an airport named after him here. At the age of two or three, his family purchased and moved into a house on Livingston Avenue, where he would live for the remainder of his childhood. Rickenbacher (as his name was originally spelled, before he changed it as an adult) worked as a teenager for both the Oscar Lear Automobile Company and Columbus Buggy Company. Prior to his career as a pilot, he was actually a race car driver of considerable reknown. And then in the 30s and 40s, oddly enough, he penned a popular comic strip named Ace Drummond. Upon his death in 1973, he was buried in Green Lawn Cemetery.
Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr.
Born in Columbus and just like his daddy (a historian at OSU), Junior here would make his name mostly in the field of American history. He won a pair of Pulitzer Prizes for his books – exactly twenty years apart – wrote speeches for presidential candidate Adlai Stevenson, and later even worked for JFK as a historian. Unfortunately, like many of the figures on this page, he does seem to have basically blown out of town at an early age and had little to do with Columbus as an adult.
Alice Schille
Another famed painter, Alice enjoyed a long, incredibly prolific career spent living and eventually dying in Columbus. She attended Columbus Art School before continuing her education in New York. But then also traveled extensively, picking up considerable knowledge in the process, along with numerous awards such as the gold medal in a 1915 exhibition at Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts.
She is mostly known for her watercolors, forever (or at least we’d like to think) putting to bed the disrespect often paid to this medium. Her work is still on display all over this city and beyond. Following her 1955 death at the age of 86, she was buried at Green Lawn Cemetery, just like Rickenbacker and many of these other notable figures.
Jeff Smith
This cartoonist, creator of the Bone comic book series, has lived in Columbus for most of his life. Its origins trace back to a strip called Thorn he contributed to OSU paper The Lantern, however, as some of the characters first appeared there. So yeah, after graduating from Worthington High, he enrolled at Ohio State. Then he and buddy Jim Kammerud formed an animation studio called Character Builders, during which they created ads for White Castle and the introductory sequence for a Jack Hanna show called Super Safari, among other noteworthy gigs.
Only later, in 1991, would he launch the Bone series and form his own comic book company. My friend Kevin Spain briefly worked for Smith in some sort of office lackey role during the early years, and says he’s a really nice guy. Nonetheless, though I own a couple issues and have tried getting into it, I am forced to admit that this just isn’t my cup of tea.
George Steinbrenner
This future owner of the New York Yankees was assigned to Lockbourne Air Force Base in 1952. Though he and his family were based more out of Cleveland, George would maintain close ties with Columbus all the way up until his death. At Lockbourne, he was first an aide to the commanding general, then was placed in charge of its athletic program.
He also coached their baseball team! Once, during his first season of doing so, OSU’s junior varsity squad showed up for a game, much to George’s distress. When making the schedule, he thought he was booking a game against their varsity team. Thus, is shouting at them to stay on the bus and to drive it back the way they came. Is further enraged when their coach talks him into playing anyway, and they proceed to pummel Lockbourne. Elsewhere on base, he runs track and sets the record for the 440 yard low hurdle. Also sets up some kind of coffee and donut operation, selling these out of trucks around the base.
In 1954, George will wind up transferring to Ohio State, to pursue his Master’s degree in phys ed. Attends a ton of football games, hangs out watching practice. During this time he’s also somehow employed as the assistant football and basketball coach at St. Thomas Aquinas High. George has at least one class with star OSU running back Howard Cassady, and the two become good friends. Through Cassady, Steinbrenner will meet his future wife, fellow OSU student Elizabeth Joan Zieg. Her dad, Harold Zieg, was a bigtime local developer and Buckeye football booster.
The Steinbrenner stories tend to weave in and out of town from this point forward. In 1973, while attempting to purchase the Yankees, he will enlist one of the Lazarus heirs, Charlotte Witkind, as a minority investor. Six years later, he moves their AAA minor league team to town, and switches its name from the Jets to the Clippers. There is one amusing anecdote from July of that year, when Steinbrenner has just flown into town to check up on the team. After landing at Columbus International, he catches a cab and is en route to the hotel when he happens to hear Clippers manager Gene Michael being interviewed on the radio. It’s a local station and the interviewer is asking him if he would like to have the recently opened manager post up in Cleveland. When Michael admits that he might, George flips out and tells the cabbie to drive him to Cooper Stadium instead. Lurks around in wait for Gene to show up, and then verbally assails the dude when he does. Although cooler heads eventually prevail during this same conversation, and Steinbrenner offers him a GM job with the Yankees instead.
I happened to see Steinbrenner around town here just once, having breakfast at the Damon’s where I worked. We peeked around the corner, watching him dine with some other guy, but were not about to approach and interrupt. Everyone said he was part owner of either the attached Parke Hotel or the restaurant or both, although I’m not sure to what extent.
Jermaine Stewart
Singer most famous for We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off was born here in 1957. And just off the top of my head, up until Twenty One Pilots came along, I might say that’s the biggest hit ever for a Columbus born musician, that I’m aware of. His family did move to Chicago, which is where he ultimately first made his mark, but this didn’t happen until he was a teenager.
R.L. Stine
I somehow only recently learned that this author is from Columbus, even though he has to be the best-selling writer this city has produced. James Thurber is surely still more of a household name, however, so that’s something. I was a little too old for Goosebumps and Fear Street, his most popular series, but a recent Netflix trilogy based on the latter was very good. Born in Bexley, he attended OSU and even worked on The Sundial for a few years. He then created the magazine Bananas (which seems vaguely familiar) and since then has published a mind numbing arsenal of books. It will seriously make your brain hurt to look up a list of all the stuff this dude has written. And here I feel like some battle tested warrior for cranking out one short article a month. Pssh. Even though, to my knowledge, I’ve not read any of his books, and can’t speak of the quality, this is still a mighty impressive resumé. He also apparently had a cameo in the first two Goosebumps movies.
Dave Thomas
Though he only wound up settling here in roundabout fashion as an adult, Columbus was the site of his breakthrough business triumphs, and he remained a fixture on the scene basically until his death.
I didn’t realize how much he had going on in Cbus until reading his autobiography, Dave’s Way. Though presented as a somewhat wacky motivational book giving “tips” to aspiring entrepreneurs, I have to admit, this was way more engaging than expected. Then again, I was cracking up long before page one, just to observe Jack Nicklaus’s bullshit soundbite on the back cover. Here’s the quote in its entirety:
“Dave has written an entertaining book, which I am sure you’ll find very enjoyable.”
Okay, so the Golden Bear clearly didn’t even read the thing. I’m conjuring up this mental image of it sitting on this table beside his front door for a couple of months. Then maybe he’s passing through the headquarters of Jack Nicklaus, Inc. one day and the secretary is holding her hand over the phone receiver, telling him Dave Thomas is on the line asking about some praise for his book jacket. A slightly out of breath and irritated Jack recites this nonsense on the spot before continuing to his office.
But anyway, onto the specifics. Most of this I had no clue about apart from the big ticket items about Dave opening the first ever Wendy’s in Columbus. So here are some of the major points. Apparently, while working as assistant manager for a two store restaurant chain in Ft. Wayne, Dave Thomas became one of the first people in the country to get mixed up with Colonel Sanders. The old colonel I must say comes off as a dangerous if crafty lunatic in many of these pages.
Anyway, Dave became somewhat smitten with Col. Sanders’s business acumen and even took to wearing white suits with black string ties himself for a while. There’s a hilarious photo in this book of the two of them side by side at the Ohio State Fair, sporting this very getup, as Dave is holding a trophy for some “Grand Champion” chicken they presented here.
How they got from Ft. Wayne to Columbus is itself pretty fascinating. In 1959, the colonel gets this idea about hooking up a couple of real estates buddies he has in Cbus, with Dave Thomas’s boss over in Indiana. His name is Phil Clauss, and he owns that two store Hobby Ranch House Take-Home operation (I couldn’t even begin to tackle the origin of this name here, so don’t ask). Sanders approaches Clauss about opening some restaurants in Columbus. These figures agree to combine forces for this venture, although Clauss, to his credit, insists he will only do so if his “vice-president,” Dave Thomas, who is in fact still manning a grill every day, is appointed operational advisor to this program.
In the early going, Dave’s driving to Columbus once a month, but this business is bombing out miserably. Finally the three guys running the show (Sanders is more in the background barking orders at this point) convince Thomas he needs to actually move to Columbus to straighten out these clowns. Clauss is confident enough in his boy here that he buys out the other two guys, and works out a deal with Thomas that Dave can have 40% of the company if he manages to turn it around.
His first order of business is to clean house. One of the lists he’s included in this book, Dave’s Six Steps For Bringing Back A Dying Business, is absolutely priceless. Much to my delight (and surely many a coworker I’ve had over the years would feel the same way), Tip #1 is “get rid of the dead wood in management.” Anyhow, after mission accomplished on this front, he also installs air conditioning at the four restaurants, trims the menus way down from a positively insane 100 offerings to maybe a dozen…but then also renames them the still quite baffling Colonel Sanders Kentucky Fried Chicken Take Home. More hilarious yet, the namesake himself, Harland Sanders, is telling Dave he’s nuts and should pull out of town before it’s too late.
Even so, however improbably, things are on the upswing. Dave and the family buy a house in Westerville, and things improve to the extent that a 5th restaurant is opened in ’67. By this point he has made good on his deal with Clauss and now owns 40% of these puppies. He tries out all manner of wacky promotions, down to teaming up with this ice cream place across the street from one location on BOGO type deals between the two businesses. Most significantly, Dave has this idea about rotating, illuminated chicken buckets for the company signs, which Sanders instantly falls in love with and installs at KFC locations everywhere. So, yes, the world famous Kentucky Fried Chicken Of Ft. Wayne Indiana actually owes this debt to Columbus Ohio.
On to more pertinent points, a year later, in 1968, KFC has exploded to the extent that Clauss and Thomas sell their five Columbus stores back to the parent company at a huge profit. Dave’s then kind of slumming it for a while with various corporate roles with KFC before quitting, after a tiff with his higher-ups. By this juncture he’s already a millionaire anyway and doesn’t need this crap. He accepts a job running Arthur Treacher’s while he contemplates his next move. Having purchased a car from Immke Buick, he’s become good friends with that local dealership’s kingpin, Len Immke, and the two of them often hit the Columbus Athletic Club to work out together, while Dave airs his thoughts on ideas to revolutionize the fast food hamburger industry.
Dave says the two of them commonly drink beer in the steam room while discussing these concepts. Which might defeat the purpose of hitting the gym in the first place, although you have to admit it’s kind of cool. Anyway following one of these powwows, they decide to swing by the club’s diner for lunch, only to discover it’s closed. This sets off a life changing rant by Immke.
“See, Dave it’s what I’ve been telling you,” Immke says, “it’s tough to get a meal downtown at the noon hour. We really ought to have a hamburger operation down here.”
Something clicks in this moment. In a virtual instant, Thomas decides to buy this business space from Immke, on West Broad Street. It’s a closed down restaurant that Len had fairly recently purchased from former New York Yankee great Tommy Henrich. At the time of this conversation it’s being used to stage brand new Buicks before they reach the showroom at Immke’s dealership down the street, and the bar area is entirely cobwebbed from disuse. These two are driving around Columbus one day and Dave, after mulling over this matter an eternity, suddenly latches upon the name Wendy’s, a nickname for his youngest daughter Melinda.
This first location opens on November 15, 1969, with three full-time employees. In this book, which came out in 1991, Dave mentions that original employee Gloria Ward Soffe is still with the company, which is another heartwarming touch to read about somehow. The mayor is on hand for this opening, as is company mascot Melinda, in pigtails with blue bows in them, who at 8 years old admits halfway through the day that smiling so much is making her mouth hurt.
That stuff about the opening is somewhat common knowledge, though, and vaguely familiar to me. What I didn’t realize, however, is that the second ever Wendy’s location was opened on Henderson Road, about a year later, and that this is the first one with a drive-thru window. Both here and elsewhere, they actually attempt operating separate grills at this restaurant, a distinct kitchen each for the dine-in and drive-thru customers, for a number of years. All the more zany, it bears mentioning, Dave was somehow still on the payroll at Arthur Treacher’s, too, doing the same theoretical work as always, and the 2nd largest stockholder, until he was certain this Wendy’s concept would really take off.
When it was still a two store operation, he cut in a trio of local friends on ownership, and the four of them cleaned house after Wendy’s went skyward. One of them, Ron Musick, was renting an apartment in Worthington at the time, and essentially told his wife to piss off when she was questioning this investment. This foursome moved into an office on Henderson, one which also housed a Coca-Cola arm of sorts, some Anchor Hocking glass operation, and other oddball businesses. Dave recounts here that, although at the time of writing this book, he was sitting in a much fancier office up in Dublin, that these Henderson Road days were actually his favorite. The four of them and their wives were here all the time, in this cramped but vibrant atmosphere, and there were days where they had hundreds of thousands of dollars stacked in the hallway, despite the other businesses in the building, if the banks happened to be closed at that hour.
By 1979, Dave Thomas is receiving a Horatio Alger award from Norman Vincent Peale at the Neil House downtown. OSU donates a chair for his fancy office up in Dublin, joking that he never had enough seats at the original location. Still, though we are definitely in victory lap terrain by this point, it’s impressive how he keeps pumping up the legends of even obscure local people he has known throughout the years. Roger Webb, who was just a student in the accounting department at OSU way back in those early days of Wendy’s, grinding his way through this fast food gig for pocket change, is mentioned as having made many important contributions during totally random conversations he had with Dave in that Broad Street restaurant. Thomas is also quite enthralled with this Jim Near character, a Columbus figure who is eventually appointed chairman of Wendy’s.
In summary, I think Dave was probably a mostly cool older guy you would have rolled your eyes at if working for, even as you reluctantly learned a few things from him. It’s nice to see him mention in passing a few charitable things he did, too, to give back to the community. Recreation Unlimited, a camp for the disabled which he was encouraged to support by sportscaster Jimmy Crum, and Charity Newsies, a vaguely familiar concept I seem to remember, where they would sell newspapers on street corners to buy clothes for kids, were a couple of his pet causes. Daughter Pam was also in charge of the volunteer program in Columbus as well.
My parents actually went out to dinner with Dave Thomas once. The photo above is taken from that night, though I’ve cropped them out of it – sorry, folks, but you don’t quite make the cut on this particular post. In case you’re wondering, though, what restaurant did Dave immediately recommend, during a brief discussion on where to eat? Why it was Wendy’s, of course, and this is precisely where they went.
Philip Michael Thomas
Actor most famous for playing Tubbs on Miami Vice was born here in 1949 but moved away at (you guessed it) a very early age.
Kenan Thompson
This highly entertaining actor technically hails from here, yes, but might have set a record on this page by leaving town before he was even a year old. And therefore it’s highly unlikely he gets too teary eyed reminiscing about ol’ Columbus.
James Thurber
I recently finished The Years With Ross, which is a memoir about his time spent working at The New Yorker. This is the first thing of his that really made much of an impression on me. We did, of course, have to read The Secret Life of Walter Mitty in high school, and while that famous short story does have a memorable premise that you basically never forget, I wouldn’t say it meant much to this particular teenager at the time.
The Years With Ross has a great atmosphere to it, though, about life on a magazine staff, and is also laugh-out-loud funny in spots. Mostly it is of course concerned with NYC tales, although Thurber does include a few short anecdotes about Columbus here and there.
I also have Fables for Our Time and Famous Poems Illustrated in my collection, and just read that one. The first few paragraphs have you thinking that this is going to be a silly enterprise, but it’s actually pretty hilarious much of the time. In fact, these days I mentally lump Thurber in with Twain because it’s surprising to me how funny these guys still are after all these years. Each of these fables features one or two of James’s own illustrations, of course, and a moral at the end, the most comical of which might be, it is better to have loafed and lost than never to have loafed at all.
The famous poems section is more of a head scratcher to me, although then again I don’t know anything about poetry. All you can say is that these timeworn pieces (by Longfellow, Tennyson, etc) must have meant something to him, considering he drew even more illustrations for these than he did the fables. Regarding the artwork, it’s basic but effective enough, about on par with what you’d expect from a newspaper comics section. These can provide a surprising amount of comedy themselves, however, like for example this sheep at a typewriter on the cover, which conveys a great deal of emotion somehow despite its basic form. It would have been interesting, actually, to see how Thurber would have fared in some alternate universe, if wholly dedicating himself as a newspaper comics creator instead – I’m guessing he would have done quite well in that medium.
Overall, this collection makes me wonder if John Lennon wasn’t striving for something similar with his own bizarre books. If so, he missed the mark considerably. Anyway, as far as Columbus references are concerned, he mentions the city just once, in passing during one of these fables.
Twenty One Pilots
Well, there’s no avoiding it any longer – it’s time to address the heathens in the room. Now, I know some people have been known to protest, “nuh uh! They come from the suburbs, dude! It doesn’t count!” But I don’t know about any of that. They bill themselves as a Columbus band and I can’t find any evidence to contradict it.
On September 8, 2021, they played a Sirius exclusive show, broadcast from the Newport Music Hall. I happened to catch this and am really glad that I did so. Prior to hearing this, I have to admit I liked Heathens and that was pretty much it. But they kind of won me over with this performance. Before the show there was even a little intro interview and the two main members (Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun) came across as chill and even hilarious at times. They threw out mentions to Hounddog’s Pizza and “that car dealer guy…carrying an acoustic guitar around everywhere he went,” (Fred Ricart), for example, so that’s something. As far as the show, the drummer (Dun) displays some serious chops, and they played a lot of deeper cuts that I’d never heard before. The singer (Joseph) has pipes, too, and while it started to get a smidgen repetitive by the end – and I’m still not a fan of a couple hits there where he kind of sounds like Eminem trying to pull off reggae, or something – overall this appearance has me wanting to check out more of their material. The songwriting was often much weirder and edgier than expected, even if the crowd (singing along with virtually every word) clearly leans toward the teenybopper demographic, and the whole enterprise seems like something Jared Leto might be into. Which makes total sense considering the soundtrack Heathens initially appeared on.
So I guess this is my dark secret, confessing that I kind of dig this band now. We are surely a minority creeping around in the shadows. Or maybe not – I seem to recall reading somewhere that Twenty One Pilots were the best-selling rock group of the 2010s. This despite not getting a ton of press, and hailing not from LA or New York, but Columbus Ohio. That last point gets stranger and stranger the more I think about it.
Dwight Yoakam
In the pre-internet days, you would hear all kinds of crazy rumors, and begin to tune most of these out after a while. Having said that, I never heard anyone whatsoever suggest that Dwight Yoakam spent a great deal of his formative years in Columbus, although this happens to be true.
In retrospect, in these modern times, it seems way more obvious than it was back then. My parents actually received Hillbilly Deluxe on cassette as a Christmas present the year it was released, and we wore that bad boy out. Readin’, ‘Rightin’, Rt. 23 was a family favorite, though you would have been considered a cheesy flake at the time to suggest he was talking about the route 23 which passed not that far from our house…even though we would eventually discover he was.
Beyond that point, I actually caught Panic Room during its original run, at Studio 35. It’s crazy to think now that he graduated high school maybe ten minutes away from there, but I had no clue at the time. Not to mention that Studio 35 actually sits on the route in question, 23. By then he was already famous for Sling Blade and it seemed like he might transition into acting completely. Yet Nashville or Bakersfield were distant concepts which basically might have been located halfway across our galaxy, not to mention I had no idea still that he spent most of his childhood here, even attended OSU for a while. In the 2000 presidential election it turns out I actually voted at Dwight’s old high school, but wouldn’t realize this for another ten years or so. He graduated from Northland in ’74, before briefly enrollling at OSU, then blowing out of town for good.
But then on the flipside, well, there must have been something there, to explain why he’s not only one of the few “modern” (as in, mid 80s onward) country guys you don’t just tolerate, but have somewhat liked from the outset. And this is reassuring when it happens, in a way, that somehow your subconscious vibed with a musician and you weren’t sure why, except instinctively knowing it wasn’t quite the same old thing everyone else was doing. Which was true for a lot of us, I think.
Though plans have been hinted at for years now to demolish the thing, at present this fabled athletics shed still proudly stands. OSU’s men’s and women’s basketball teams both, as well as the men’s hockey squad, stopped playing here after the 97-98 campaigns, in favor of the Schottenstein Center up the road. Over the years, this multi-purpose venue has seen everything from a Rush concert in 1980, to presidential hopeful Barack Obama stumping here on the campaign trail. Of course, at least one active commander-in-chief has been here, too, when Gerald Ford delivered the university’s summer commencement address inside St. John Arena in 1974. I skated this ice back when they had a dedicated night of the week for public use of the rink, and watched my buddy Damon play hockey in these dim confines when he was a member of the Buckeye “B” squad, or whatever you call it. As recently as 2016 this arena avoided a very close scrape, when its proudly announced replacement was nixed, and it continues to find use for some of the less popular OSU indoor sports.
As pure chance would have it, I manage to catch the last ever hockey game the OSU men’s team played here, on Febuary 26, 1998. Damon’s ex-girlfriend Angie is in town this afternoon (all the more interesting in that Damon hasn’t gotten around to breaking up with his current girlfriend yet), and the three of us are hanging out at the house. While attending class, Damon heard something about this promotion they are running, and snapped up two tickets, before inviting Angie down: for a meager $5, students can catch this momentous event, which also includes an all-you-can-eat pizza dinner at the campus Tommy’s before the game. Upon learning that I’m off from work tonight and will be around, he’s hatching a plan to include me as well.
The three of us squeeze into his truck and drive across campus to the building where he bought these tickets. We reach some office on an upstairs floor, back near where Woody Hayes Drive crosses the Olentangy, and Damon’s speaking with the receptionist.
“I’m sorry, we’re all sold out. You might be able to buy some off the guy running it, though, he might still have a few tickets left on him….”
“What’s his name?” Damon asks.
“Eric.”
“And he’ll be there tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Damon nods, “thanks.”
Undeterred, once we are outside the building again, he lays out a feasible backup plan. The chance of this Eric character having any tickets left is probably pretty slim. Nonetheless, Damon advises, what we’ll do is head into Tommy’s like nothing is awry, dive right into the free pizza and grab a seat. “And then if this Eric guy acts like he wants to see your ticket, tell him the secretary you talked to said he’d have one you could buy here.”
As it turns out, none of these machinations are necessary. Nobody is inspecting anything whatsoever at this restaurant. We help ourselves to reams of the gratis pizza, the free Pepsi to wash it down (or was it Coke? I feel like Bruce would surely know, off the top of his head, precisely what they serve here), and then Damon feels inspired to go buy a pitcher of beer and really ramp up the festivities a notch. Only when we are leaving, to walk across the street to the arena, does Eric ask for everyone’s ticket. When we reach him, I recite the spiel Damon had concocted.
“As it turns out, I do have oneleft,” he says. I hand him the five dollar bill, and he forks over the ticket.
Once everyone spills across Lane Avenue, flashing our proof of entry at the gate, the three of us snag some choice seats near ground level, right behind the visiting team’s net. Up the street, at the Olentangy River Road intersection, construction is nearly completed for what will be the new home for this as well as the basketball programs. If you want to get technical, though I and who knows what other high percentage of campus denizens aren’t aware of this, the hockey team plays at OSU Ice Rink. Yes, this is the name they actually use for the space where we currently find ourselves, a 1,400 seater on a separate wing of the same building, accessed via the same entrances. Everyone seems to refer to the entire building as St. John Arena, though, and you surely would too if driving past and pointing it out to your parents or something.
Now that we’re nearing the tail end of the 1997-98 campaign, the Buckeyes are finishing out an amazing season, with talks that winning state seems perfectly reasonable, and a Frozen Four title might even be in the cards. First, however, they must dispense with the Miami, Ohio squad, not exactly known as much of a powerhouse in anything except maybe illicit substance consumption.
But this will actually turn into a well fought contest. Miami is outplaying OSU in the early going, scoring first, in period one. The home team looks ragged and has virtually no offense, though somehow tying things up with about thirty seconds left in this period.
A seesaw battle develops from here, and though digging live hockey as much as the next guy, for some reason it’s a struggle keeping my eyes open during this one. It could be the afternoon beer or excessive work schedule or lack of sleep, and surely not because nobody scores at all during period no. 2, or most of the third one as well. In the closing moments, though, OSU fires the puck into Miami’s goal once more. As a desperation move the visitors pull their goalie, to give themselves a better shot at scoring, though the Buckeyes capitalize on this backfiring tactic and slap a third point on the board. Final tally is 3-1, with the good guys further cementing their status as impending tournament heavyweights.
Following some road contests, the season will end and they will advance as far as a semi-final game in the tournament bracket. Fittingly enough, this campaign proves the most successful in over 25 years, probably since the class of 1971-72.
Two nights later, the men’s basketball squad will play its final scheduled game here, across the hall in the actual St. John Arena. An overtime loss to Penn State drops them to 8-21 on the year, with an especially miserable 1-15 record to this point against the Big Ten (they have one road game remaining, against Indiana). The season actually began well, with a 7-3 mark, before this horrific 14 game losing streak within their own conference. A change of venues will do them good, however, for they experience a complete reversal in the following season, their first at the Schottenstein Center, when they reach the Final Four. Scheduling mixups at their new home leads them to return to St. John Arena for a single game during both the 2004 and 2008 seasons.
After a ten year break from the place, in November 2018, they again return to this old shed, in a promotional gimmick which sells more tickets than the average game at Value City Arena does. How is this for irony? In the straight up sad department, however, I seriously spent well over an hour online trying to find the date for the final women’s basketball game here. OSU’s website doesn’t have it and neither does the NCAAW’s. If anyone can locate this information, by all means hit me up.
January 1 – the collective misery of the John Cooper era continues as OSU suffers a relative blowout in the Sugar Bowl, losing to 4th ranked Florida State. Though a 31-14 drubbing doesn’t look too horrific on paper, the Damon’s where I was working went from a riotous mob to mass walkouts somewhere around the halfway mark.
January 4 – Brasiliera play at Dick’s Den. At the behest of bartender Dusty, who also slings drinks at Damon’s, I’m finally getting around to checking out this legendary jazz epicenter for the first time tonight. He said he would slide me a free beer or two, and that’s pretty much all a cash strapped character such as I needs to hear.
The bar will establish itself with an auspicious start before I even set foot in the place. As I pull up to the curb on High, a short distance from the club, there’s a police cruiser with his jackpot lights twirling even closer to it, nearly in front. After making my way underneath the famous question mark sign and inside the bar, some crazy old timer, eyeballing the nonexistent scene out there with intensity, tells me that someone was just mugged up the street.
He adds that this is a dangerous neighborhood and that such incidents are constantly transpiring around here – which I find a guffaw inducing sentiment. No region is truly insulated from crime, but calling this area a rough part of town is a sizeable stretch. This is north campus. It’s no more dangerous than any other area of campus, and probably less so than many. Back in the summer I was even accosted on Summit while walking home from Studio 35. Some drunken or deranged hillbilly kept pace with me on the opposite sidewalk, block after block, and kept shouting insults, how he was going to run across the street and kick my ass. I’m not sure where he came from, for he appeared out of nowhere. Spotting, as it happens, a police cruiser with his lights on up ahead, I told myself to just keep calmly walking and saying nothing, until I reached that destination. Only to do so and find no officer in sight. Upon which, thinking it a good idea not to let this madman see where I live, I hook a left at the next intersection and book it out of range.
You can’t let fluke occurrences deter you from perfectly reasonable experiences. I’ve walked past this bar by myself, actually, to and from work or even just goofing around, on countless occasions. Setting foot inside a strange place is always nerve wracking, for whatever reason, particularly if alone, but the day we start fearing these neighborhoods is a mighty dim one.
Seeing a familiar face always helps with the comfort level and the safety, regardless, and when Dusty cheers my name from behind the bar, I already feel at home inside this cozy, wood paneled establishment. As I drop into an empty seat at said bar, he slides this unadventurous drinker a bottle of Budweiser, which is another old friend, you might say, the proverbial worn pair of shoes. A concept extending in some fashion to the band on stage in the other half of the room, Brasiliera, whom I’m never witnessed before, yet have seen mentioned in print countless times via Alive! or The Other Paper.
A band composed of seven white people who appear to be in their mid-thirties, they’re nonetheless blowing what I would term a Latin tinged jazz. The chick singing and dude playing the trombone seem to function as ringleaders with this troupe, complemented in exquisite fashion by another girl on flute, the guys manning drums, bass, guitar and piano posts. A very talented group, probably the best I’ve seen since moving to Columbus and if not then running a close second only to those swing leaning lads in Thirteen O’Clock.
As for the bar itself, this dark wood motif prevails everywhere, decorated in the same down to earth style as and exuding an identical vibe to Ruby’s. One key difference is that, by force of conscious decision and also as byproduct of booking these bands, this place does skew a little older. It’s far less saturated with hippie types, dependent instead upon a more reserved, non-cannabis-reeking hepcat crowd. Predominantly male, too, I would gauge, so it’s not exactly babe central. Just a solid entertainment option maybe once or twice a year.
Dusty buys me a second beer, as I check out their impressive liquor arsenal along a mirror lined wall behind the bar. Elsewhere, there’s a chalkboard posted, listing a number of upcoming bands. Then tonight’s outfit is on break and two of the members are chatting with this guy in a nearby stool, who by the sounds of things must run this place.
I’m listening to their conversation for a while and then, by the time Brasiliera grace the stage once more, I’ve just about killed this drink. Upon doing so, I thank Dusty and tip him a couple of bucks, though am wondering on the ride home if this was an etiquette faux pas on my part – at the very least, I should have slid him the cost of that second beer, as this is presumably the whole point of inviting people you know to your bar and sneaking them gratis beverages.
As it turns out, though figuring I’ll just apologize the next time I see him at work, that never happens. He’s just another character in the long line of them who simply stop showing up at our rib joint, and nowhere near the most remarkable. Sorry, Dusty, nothing personal – I’m mostly thinking about the women we worked with, and wouldn’t consider myself a remarkable character, either.
January 21 – the Cincinnati Reds’ Winter Caravan comes to Flannagan’s. Manager Jack McKeon, hitting coach Ken Griffey, Sr., a couple announcers (among them Joe Nuxhall) and four players make this treacherous promotional journey.
February 1 – Trio Melange play Short North Tavern. This it would seem is a traveling portion of the Cleveland Orchestra, featuring flutist Heidi Ruby-Kushious, harp player Tina Struble and the cello master Paul Kushious.
February 4 – Swabby continues his residency at the Northberg Tavern.
Some mystery band also plays Bernie’s Bagels. UNSUB posted flyers featuring our elementary school guidance counselor throughout the campus region, promoting this show. Through years of diligent research, assisted by others, it has finally come to light that a band named the pinups was responsible for this poster.
February 6 – Alan & I split a pitcher & play some pool at Ruby Tuesday. Then we grab some more beer and sit down on the other side to watch this weird ass band called Foley.
Once they take the stage, we decide to sit down at a table in that darkened half of the bar to observe the show. And while they are thankfully free of the standard Dead style marathon jam trappings of seemingly ¾ the bands who play here, this is probably the strangest outfit I’ve seen thus far, Columbus or anywhere else.
After they’ve finished setting up and launch into their first set, we can’t tell if this is the actual performance or a quote unquote warmup for the real gig. Though the bar is about halfway full and these tables occupied to pretty much the same ratio, the bass player sits in a chair with his back to the crowd the entire time. He and his cohorts in this trio, a guitarist and drummer, play nothing but jazzy, upbeat instrumentals, which is fine, except they keep stopping and starting songs over again, even if a couple of minutes into the piece.
Alan and I exchange puzzled glances and many a what the fuck?, as it’s hard to tell just what these guys are trying to accomplish – had one of them messed up and picked the tune up from scratch, or did they like it so much they wanted to play it again, or was it some kind of experimental stuff like late issue Coltrane or Miles or something, where they were trying different variations based around the same melody? Then again, for all we know, these guys may very well still be in practice mode. It’s not like, I don’t know, they actually address the crowd or anything, not even once. But after about an hour of this, we’ve seen enough.
“You ready to go?” Alan asks me.
“Yeah,” I nod.
As we’re standing up to leave, however, he happens to glance at this table behind us, where amid the deeper gloom of that recess, some kid of roughly our age, with short buzzed hair, sits alone. Though I certainly would not, Alan insists he recognizes this dude and believes he went to high school with us. Thus walks over to talk to the guy, while I’m stuck watching more of this Foley horseshit.
He does keep the conversation mercifully brief, returning to explain, as we leave, that this was Aaron Little, an upperclassman who used to have really long hair back in our teenage years. The name does sound somewhat familiar, although I’m still astounded that Alan picked him out in there. After Alan explained that he plays the drums, Aaron mentioned that he has a little basement studio at his place over in Clintonville, and is looking to assemble a band. The two of them then exchanged numbers.
February 15 – a Cajun band named File (there should be an accent mark over the e, though I’m too lazy to figure that out at the moment) plays at Little Brothers.
Also, the professor of piano at Denison University, Stephen Zank, travels a short distance up the road to put on a performance here. It’s a free concert held at the Graves Recital Hall on Karl Rd, start time 4pm
And then a little later on, at 6pm, OSU’s Concert and Symphonic Bands take the stage at the Wexner Center. This one is free of charge, too.
February 18 – Secretary of State Madeleine Albright comes to St. John Arena to discuss a possible invasion of Iraq. The crowd is out of control, booing & challenging her every point, a disastrous town meeting that’s broadcast live on CNN.
February 28 – And then two nights later, its men’s basketball team closes out the St. John Arena era with an overtime loss to Penn State. Both programs, along with the women’s b-ball, are moving to the Schottenstein Center when it opens in the fall.
March 7 – Drexel Grandview has a one-off midnight showing for the Neil Young tour documentary, Year Of The Horse. This is my first visit to this theater. I count an attendance grand total of 8 – although it’s worth noting and kind of cool that none of us leave until after the end credits have finished.
March 17 – St. Patrick’s Day Irish Fest event at Vets Memorial. I’ve just gotten home from work when Alan & Snoop breeze in, want to know if I feel like going. The ticket price ($10) is a bit too rich for my blood, however. “Mine too,” Alan admits, “but I figured what the hell.”
My coworker Kathleen is having a party at her place later, which is mainly what I’m concerned about. We agree to meet up after they leave the Irish Fest and hit this party. As it turns out, which seems like an amazing coincidence, Snoop lives at 100 W. Maynard, Kathleen in an apartment at 161. So Alan, Snoop, some of his roommates and I walk down to the party. One of Snoop’s friends, John S, takes one look at some of the people on the balcony, before we’ve even reached the building, says, “oh no. Huh uh. I’m outta here,” turns around and walks back to the house. We’re cracking up because it’s hard to imagine what would’ve provoked this reaction.
Uncle Sam’s Dream Machine play at Ruby Tuesday. Alan and Snoop cap off the festivities over there watching them. It’s a weird night even by St. Patty’s standards and Damon had been at Ruby’s earlier himself, before he and I join forces for a breakfast run over to Sugar Shack.
April 7 – Dick Dale show at the Newport. For a full recap of their 1998 events (and beyond), please click the link to visit that page.
May 9 – George Strait is at the Horseshoe, selling upwards of 70,000 tickets for this StraitFest show. That’s nearly twice of what U2 managed a year earlier, and more than even the Rolling Stones moved, last September. Who said this wasn’t a cow town? Our friends Mandy and Melissa and Mandy’s mom attend the concert, parking at our house and hanging out for like 5 minutes before walking down there.
May 13 – Some crappy band named Buddha’s Toothbrush is playing at Victory’s. This I know because Damon, Alan, and I somehow get the bright idea to check out that scene on a Wednesday. It’s completely dead. A few hot chicks but not many. In fact, some guy comes up and asks us, “is this a gay bar? I’m from out of town.”
We tell him no, then once he’s out of earshot, Damon jokes that he felt like adding, “no, but if you’re looking for one…,” and then making up some directions.
Each of us have exactly one beer apiece – who could afford more than one here? Although they do have a single redeeming feature, which is pizza for 80 cents a slice on Wednesdays. This is the kind of thing you tend to forget entirely, that Victory’s did (and may still) serve not just pizza but surprisingly decent pizza. I don’t remember this at all, but it says so in my notes. Anyway, we scarf down a couple of slices each, then split this lame establishment in favor of karaoke night at Woody’s.
May 20 – Alan and Larry attend Creed show at Newport. I’m invited but am not interested in going.
It’s a strange night all around. By the time those two return, we have a mini gathering shaping up at our house. But though I almost never come down with even the slightest cold, I’m feeling majorly ill out of nowhere and will spend the entire night in my bed, missing the festivities altogether. Meanwhile, a house that’s basically across the street from us burns to the ground. I have my windows open and can hear the crackling flames, as their orange lights dance around my dark bedroom, while the firemen shout instructions to one another, and people in our kitchen discuss what’s happening as they crane their necks for a look.
May 27 – Superstar Rookie are at Cafe Bourbon Street. Alan and Damon attend this show.
June 8 – Damon and I are walking to Not Al’s Too, and are right behind Bernie’s when Dave Copper exits the back door with some drums in his hand. Whatever hour this is, he just finished playing, but says it’s for another band and not Superstar Rookie. Dan and Travis and some other friends are down there at the bar anyway, but we don’t bother going in. As it turns out I forgot my ID and can’t get into Not Al’s.
June 10 – Swervedriver and Spoon show at Little Brothers, which I’m lucky enough to attend for free.
August 2 – This appears to be the day that OSU’s student newspaper The Lantern went live online, or at least uploaded a bunch of older content. It took me a little while to figure this out, and was creating some major confusion when attempting to verify dates in the event calendar – like for Stache’s, which went out of business in May of ’97. Stumbling onto a Lantern entry for 8/2/98 saying bands were playing at Stache’s “this weekend” sent me down a short lived rabbit hole, wondering if there was a brief revival for this legendary venue, and I never heard about it.
September 23 – Jill and I attend an Aerosmith show at Polaris Amphitheater. Monster Magnet opens. She’s decided that dreadful ballad from Armageddon is “our song” (guys have no say in matters like these), and they play that, sure, but otherwise it’s a pretty killer show. The two Joes in the band are amazing. Perry’s guitar tone is out of this world, and Kramer’s a complete animal on the drum kit. Monster Magnet are decent, although the only thing I remember distinctly is that they played Space Lord last, of course, and the crowd really got into belting out the chorus – that’s actually somewhat unusual for an opening act, in my experience. Jill’s wearing open toed sandals and by the end of the night, the dewy lawn has frozen her feet half solid.
October 1 – Gloritone, Superstar Rookie, 84 Nash, The Deal at Little Brothers
November 23 – WWF’s “Monday Night Raw” is filmed at the Schottenstein Center. Shaggy 2 Dope and Violent J of Insane Clown Posse are “with” some crew called The Oddities, whatever that means. They lose to an awesome sounding duo called The Head Bangers (Mosh & Thrasher). The Rock wins to hold onto his championship crown. Andy Kaufman’s buddy Jerry Lawler is one of the commentators.
December 28 – I think Superstar Rookie might have played a show on West Oakland somewhere.
The colors sported by Columbus’ only major league sports team – well, unless you count the Crew, that is, which I guess we should – weren’t always union blue, goal red (must be a new crayon, as I’ve never heard of this shade) and silver. We did have a navy, lime and crimson phase for quite some time prior to that. And as originally drawn up, the decision makers having not yet stumbled upon any sort of neon green, these Blue Jackets were to actually feature yellow instead, believe it or not. A true Buckeye fan could then be heard howling about this a mile away from that first press release, not that they’d have to look very far to find a detractor: so okay, geniuses, what you’ve done is given them Michigan Wolverine outfits, with a tiny splash of red.
This would be but the first of many missteps bringing this franchise to life. I like the Blue Jackets name, it has grown on me and stands out in an era when it’s increasingly difficult to come up with new sports monikers. But though they are now claiming this was always officially tied in from the outset with a Civil War theme, this isn’t my recollection of how that came about at all. I remember newspaper articles where team officials were being asked point blank what a Blue Jacket was, anyway, and the best anyone could come up with was that maybe it had something to do with…labor unions…and Columbus being a blue collar town…and stuff like that…you know. I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that they launch with Stinger as a mascot, a bumblebee, so they can hedge their bets a little with the whole yellow jacket connection. And actually this is probably how yellow almost made it into the color scheme to begin with.
In reality, as sponsored by Wendy’s, the team held a franchise naming contest, and Blue Jackets was chosen as one of the finalists. I’m not aware it’s ever been publicly established who submitted that entry, and why. One of the local rags, either The Other Paper or Alive, conducted their own poll, during which the Mad Cows emerged as a fan favorite. I too thought this a pretty sweet idea, possibly even shortened to just the Cows, or not – Anaheim still went by the Mighty Ducks, so Mad Cows wasn’t too far out of line, and of course well into the early 2000s, a lot of people still referred to Columbus as Cow Town. But out of some 14,000 entries, a handful were chosen as finalists by more serious minded officials, and there was a period where these were bandied about, with endless conjecture as to which they would choose. If they decided among themselves that there was “definitely” a Civil War connection to the name, either before or after they made the announcement that they were running with Blue Jackets, then it sure seems like somebody would have been talking about this.
But no matter. More serious issues loomed ahead, and they’d already conquered so much just in getting approved for an NHL expansion squad. Though on the short list in late 1996 for possibly landing a team, and scheduling a referendum in May of ’97 to publicly finance a new stadium for this theoretical squad, league commissioner Gary Bettman visits Columbus and isn’t exactly convinced. Issue No. 1, as it’s called, and its .5 percent sales tax hike, will apparently half to pass in order to seal this deal.
Lobbyists peddle this arena with a fervent belief that erecting such will land us a franchise, enlisting mayor Greg Lashutka and even OSU president Gorden Gee to pander for support. But intent as our elected delegates are upon nabbing an NHL team, I get the feeling, whether shot down or passed, the whole charade is chiefly undergone to convince hockey officials we’re a major league city. That an adequate number of trash can lids are banged together, creating a large enough ruckus, that prominent local businessmen, that members of our executive and legislative branches sufficiently care. And thus the referendum was not absolutely essential per se.
Issue #1 fails anyway, which spares us the half percent sales tax hike. Neither I nor anyone else in my acquaintance can comment much more than halfheartedly, however, for while taxpayers all, none of us voted. And whatever the case, only a handful more than that care one way or the other. Call us irresponsible citizens, but the interest just isn’t there, a representative sampling, I’m sure, of the general malaise. Perhaps, assuming they considered public opinion at all, city officials equated our avoidance of the ballot box to granting them a free pass, as if shrugging our shoulders and saying, “eh, sure, do whatever.”
Within a few weeks of the referendum being shot down, Nationwide Insurance enters the breach. They and the Dispatch Media Group eventually announce a plan to partner in financing this new stadium. Four thousand hockey enthusiasts show up for a street party downtown, celebrating where construction will soon begin. Four thousand kind of sounds like a decent amount, except you have to consider that if they only drew this many in attendance per night, the team would be bankrupt in a year. And while, yes, a street party is not a hockey game, and therefore you can only infer so much, I am certain that a similar announcement in, say, Cleveland, would have created complete pandemonium in the streets. Or even anything related to Buckeye sports whatsoever. Yet as expected, the NHL confirms that they will now approve the Columbus franchise.
Fast forward about a dozen years. The Blue Jackets are complaining they are losing money under the current stadium deal, and seek to get out from under this burden. Mayor Michael Coleman is hinting around in the papers that the city might have to buy the stadium, and it is eventually acquired by the Franklin County Convention Facilities Authority. You could argue they made the steal of century as far as the purchase price is concerned – $42.5 million, where it cost about four times as much to build – but I can’t fathom high fiving them right now regarding that, as my blood is boiling when I read about the stadium’s tremendous tax breaks. Shortly after acquiring the arena, the convention authority was able to move from its existing tax abatement plan into the current one where they’re now paying no property taxes at all.
One other issue you run into when plopping a new franchise down is that folks don’t necessarily chuck aside their old favorites. The Red Wings and Penguins are popular teams to begin with, and all the more so in Columbus, which is situated only a few hours away from both. I had been a Detroit fan for years before Stinger and friends swarmed the scene, and the only thing their invasion accomplished on that front was for me to sort of wish they were somewhat successful…so long as they didn’t compromise any Red Wings triumphs. As such, the most exciting personnel development has been when they picked up Motor City legend Sergei Federov for a few years there. Otherwise, I will admit to being a Luke Richardson fan, mainly because the former team captain was a frequent shopper of the Wild Oats on Lane Avenue, where I worked. He had this look about him to where you expected he would be somewhat of a tool at first, but he was in fact a really nice guy.
Another Epic Blue Jackets Contest
As far as on the field play is concerned, they got out of the gates in that inaugural year of 2000 and posted a better record than anyone could have expected. However, they seemed to take a step backwards from there. The 2016-17 season marks their highwater mark to date, with a 3rd place finish and 50 wins, but so far they’ve never won their division, obviously, and they’ve only made the playoffs five times, only advanced past the first round twice. The 2019 playoff campaign is notable in that, despite a 5th place finish, they somehow managed to not only knock out defending champions Tampa Bay, but also swept them in the process – the first time this has happened in the opening round in NHL history.
But Erin and I did attend one game, one game so far in nineteen years of play, so I guess that means I’m not permitted to complain about any aspect of team or stadium conduct. This is what its proponents would claim, anyway. I’m not necessarily convinced. Our one game attended was pretty laughable – and actually, I can’t even recall who won – because it was pretty obvious that the miserable Columbus team and equally horrific Atlanta team were quite aware they both sucked, and figured they might as well start as many brawls as possible rather than worry about winning this stupid game. It’s an interesting concept. I wonder what might happen if they allowed a handful of vociferous locals to suit up with sticks, against those who’ve been responsible for this debacle through the ages, and set them loose on the ice.
