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Ohio State Buckeye Football

Ohio Stadium exterior Columbus Ohio

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 three times. So this puts them slightly ahead of the Kansas City Royals in the universal dominance category. Which is fine – but you are not the New York Yankees, folks.

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.

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Buckeye Hall Of Fame Cafe

Burgers page on Buckeye Hall Of Fame Cafe menu.

Originally, ownership of the Damon’s on Olentangy planned to open a brand new building for that same chain, right across the parking lot. I know because I happened to be working there at the time. Instead, plans were soon scrapped in favor of a separate plot of land, a different operation entirely. This would have been 1997. Management was threatening us all with this incessant best of the best nonsense, insisting they would only accept top shelf talent for a transfer to the new restaurant. The hilarious conclusion to this tale is that only two employees bothered signing up anyway – our daytime manager Drew, and some part time prep cook. The best of the best? I’m not sure management quite filled their stated objective, there. If this is a Hall Of Fame cafe, its inaugural class doesn’t exactly rival Cooperstown’s.

The Buckeye Hall of Fame Café, they’re terming this latest venture. Great, just what campus needs. Nonetheless, when a Columbus institution, the Jai Lai, shutters its doors (at 1421 Olentangy River Road) in August of ’96, the brain trust behind our Damon’s decides to swoop in for the kill. Jai Lai was Woody Hayes’s favorite restaurant in town, and his efforts alone generated all sorts of revenue for the place. Still, local fervor for this niche notwithstanding, I get the feeling it will take a lot more than the support of an OSU football coach to keep this latest venture afloat. Plus, well, let’s not forget that Woody Hayes died in 1987.

A couple miles south of the Damon’s, also on Olentangy, past the brand new baseball field and the Jack Nicklaus museum, past the Lennox spaceship shopping center, directly facing the river, this building they do cobble together with impressive, land speed record time, I’ll give them that. Still, Buckeye football fans are already the most annoying aficionados on the planet, and this added fuel surely won’t help matters any. And while there are surely token efforts at championing the other sports under this umbrella, we all know what the driving force is behind this venture.

The football team used to hold weekly press conferences here, after all, back when it was the Jai Lai, and they even experimented with helicoptering patrons from here to the game back in ’74. So yes, a cursed shrine to OSU heroes of yore, as if these nuts don’t already vomit scarlet and grey factoids three hundred sixty five days a year. For what, a season that lasts all of eleven games. Every spring, the Buckeyes play an exhibition football game, serving no real purpose, except these too are always inexhaustibly attended by another capacity mob. You could probably plant an OSU flag in a dog turd and folks would pay to see it. Then again, some might argue this is exactly what happened during the John Cooper years.

As for us employees, the whole experience leaves a sour taste in our mouths – at least to the extent you could claim we care. Thus our avoidance falls somewhere between a boycott and pure lack of interest. For one, despite the threats, bigwigs like John Votino telling us we needed to get our act together or we weren’t going to be brought on board the “new Damon’s” they were allegedly building “right across the parking lot” from our current location, the timeline just isn’t adding up. He’s barking this junk at us in a late January meeting, about an alleged March groundbreaking…but then two weeks later the same team is in the news announcing that they’re opening this Buckeye Café. No mention of this new Damon’s location is ever made again. All of which can only mean one of three things:  

a) he was purposefully blowing smoke up our asses as some kind of weird motivational stunt, fully aware that there was no new Damon’s being built in our parking lot, that they were buying a shuttered restaurant miles away from here, and revamping it.  

b) they somehow decided in the space of two weeks and then made this purchase happen, along with the entire name and marketing angle they presented to the Dispatch.

c) my own personal theory, that he isn’t quite the bigwig nor as in the loop as he thinks he is and that the guys above him in the food chain – i.e. the fat cats with the money, making the actual, you know, decisions – had scrapped that “new Damon’s” business months upon months earlier, and he was relating to us old, outdated news.

But in the name of journalistic curiosity, if nothing else, I owe it to myself to inspect this place at least once, and it seems that the rest of our gang feels the same way.  

So after months of hearing Buckeye Café this, Hall Of Fame Café that, is this adding up to the eighth wonder of western civilization? Well, not quite. But as we pull up before this bright, two story oasis, glowing red as a fireplace ember, they do offer valet parking, a perk at least as good as Jon Axelrod’s suggestion that our own restaurant give out umbrellas when it’s raining. We don’t find the need to pay them for this service, though, for while the second floor of this building, in a clever twist, actually is a parking garage, there are also plenty of spots available here at street level, off to the side.  

The building exterior, though modern enough, is a concrete bunker painted grey, vaguely reminiscent of a castle, with scarlet flags billowing from strategic points up top. They’ve even gone as far as to sculpt roadside hedges low, in the familiar O shape of that famous Buckeye logo.  Once inside, we find a number of different bars scattered throughout the grounds, and the atmosphere is warm, inviting. The expected OSU memorabilia and color schemes dominate every available square inch, with the patron level, while not jam packed, certainly higher than you might expect an hour before closing time on a Tuesday in January. Everything is well lit and looks tastefully modern.  

Still, having already decided I’m not going to spend any money here personally, and with my roommate Damon also in more of a fact finding mode, our visit here is not bound to represent an extensive, in depth one. There’s an adequate dining area, a roomy pool hall, and an even roomier game room, which is where we find Jenny, Carrie, and John. We watch them manipulate joysticks, race digital vehicles, and fire off basketballs in the face of a shot clock and scoreboard continually broadcasting their ineptitude. Soon enough, the hour dictates that those responsible are closing this place down for the night, and we leave just a little bit shy of this development.

A glance at the menu lends the impression that this is standard sports bar food, nothing more. Still, given the theme of this place, you would have expected more imagination in at least the naming of the dishes. It would seem a no-brainer to honor famous Buckeye personalities with signature meals and drinks, possibly even crafting some menu items that were known favorites for these legends. What was Woody Hayes’s idea of a perfect food, for example, and why wouldn’t you have that on offer here? Or Archie Griffin’s or Jesse Owens’s? They seem to have dropped the ball on the two yard line with this one.

On an amusing side note, they once paid $10,000 to set an OSU Buckeye logo in the concrete directly before the front entrance. Except one afternoon it mysteriously acquired bike tire tracks before the wet concrete had dried. Yeah, that was me. Even so, I doubt this really impacted much, as they were able to stay in business for many a year after this, before finally going belly up in 2009. 

Somewhere around 2011, this concept and presumably much of its memorabilia was transferred to a new restaurant, at the Port Columbus International Airport. It has the same name and logo, so I would assume the same brain trust is behind this operation. This too seems to have gone bust, though in half the time as the previous incarnation – about six years, give or take – and the Yelp! rating may help explain why. Reviews are fairly brutal, especially in later years, and they wound up with a composite 2 star score.

 

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1998

Tickets stub from Aerosmith, Polaris Amphitheater, 1998

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 13 – Superstar Rookie, Midway, and Vena Cava play at Little Brothers.

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.

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 7 – Superstar Rookie/Salthorse show at Little Brothers.

February 9 – Local Color show at Not Al’s Rockers.

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 26 – The OSU men’s hockey team plays its final game at the Ice Rink.

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.

March 28

Guided By Voices show at Bernie’s Bagels. For an in depth rundown of the club’s events calendar, please visit that page.

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.