Donovan Jackson, Ohio State’s senior left guard, stared at the interviewer with two laser-guided missiles.
I think he looked at me. (Looks over both shoulders. No one there.) Yep, that was me.
“We understand the story. We understand what some of you think of us. We just have to execute, man,” Jackson said, choosing his words (sort of) carefully. “Y’all are going to report what you see on the field. So if we’re going to change that story, we’ve got to change what we put on the field.”
And that’s how you address the obvious. Openly. Honestly. No excuses. But no apologies either. And definitely no conspiracy theories. If you’re looking for an out-of-constituency presidential candidate, Jackson is unfortunately too young to be president.
It’s an old joke, but here it is anyway: Last season, the Buckeyes’ offensive line was – here’s the thing – offensive. It didn’t do particularly well blocking. It didn’t do particularly well passing. It looked especially bad in the 14-3 Cotton Bowl loss to mighty – er – Missouri. One longtime OSU reporter called the O-line’s performance against Mizzou the worst in decades.
And Orlando Pace cried.
Granted, there were some quasi-legitimate explanations for the 2023 collapse, including mediocre recruiting by line coach Justin Frye and the late arrival of left tackle Josh Simmons, who joined the team after spring practice ended from San Diego State. But let’s not let this group get off too lightly, because unlike some seasons where injuries force a plug-and-play approach to keep the line in shape, it was a healthy and cohesive unit from start to finish.
Ohio State Football: “Stars are important”: Justin Frye’s assessment of recruiting players for the Buckeyes’ offensive line
Anyway, after Jackson had said his piece, he kept going. With all his 320 pounds. The ground shook.
Next up: Right tackle Josh Fryar, another senior who had to listen to how the offensive line is the punching bag of an iron-fisted team. Amazing wide receivers everywhere. Strong defensive line. Solid running backs. Defensive backs who aren’t offensive. A quarterback prospect for the NFL.
And then Woppita-Woppita-Woppita – speed bags disguised as run and pass blockers.
Before hearing what Fryar had to say — and it was good — it’s probably important to first hear from coach Ryan Day. After all, he’s the one who showed former O-line coach Greg Studrawa the door at the end of 2021 for mediocre line management. (Memo to anyone who emphatically fired Studrawa: Be careful what you wish for.)
Day looked his interviewer straight in the eye – yes, me again – and passionately refuted any notion that Ohio State isn’t the destination school for the best offensive linemen in the country, just as the best receivers, defensive backs and quarterbacks eye the Buckeyes as a place to play – where name, image and likeness flow like milk and honey.
“I don’t see it that way at all,” Day said, disputing the notion that the best offensive linemen of the past few years end up at Alabama and Georgia rather than OSU. Highly rated five-star tackle Robert Sanders just chose Tennessee over Ohio State. “We’ll see what we get this year, but we have some really good young players in the system.”
Pause.
“We should have the best offensive line in the country,” Day said. “That’s the standard here and has been for a long time.”
And Nick Mangold cried.
I can’t speak to how competent Frye is. He sounds smart. Says things like, “We’re playing more like linemen than lines on one side,” explaining the maturation of young players who only vaguely thought they knew what to do last season.
Frye is also adept at explaining why he hasn’t landed a five-star recruit yet, sprinkling “development” and “progression” into his sentences. He may be one of the best offensive coaches in the country, but at some point it has to show on the field.
He knows it. Day knows it. The players know it.
Back to Fryar. Thanks for your patience.
“We always have a grudge,” he said. “(Seth McLaughlin) talks about it best. That’s what drives us. Seth is supposed to be the worst center in the country. People don’t like me as a right tackle. Tegra is slow. Donny is supposed to go to the NFL. Josh Simmons doesn’t know what he’s doing. Everyone has an opinion about us.”
Most of these opinions hit like bricks rather than butterflies.
“It bothers you,” Fryar continued. “Especially when you get direct messages from Instagram, Twitter, and stuff. Or when Buckeye fans comment on your girlfriend’s post about you and say very explicit things that I can’t repeat. It’s hard, but at the same time, I know how to control it now because it’s social media. You shouldn’t really care because these guys are sitting behind a keyboard.”
Senior lineman Zen Michalski knows the only way to change the public’s perception of the “soft” offensive line is to change it. It’s not Final Jeopardy, folks.
“When you’re in a place like this, you have to compete, and coach Frye always tells us, ‘This is what happens in our room.’ It’s on us. You see your brothers next to you and it’s on all of us to maintain that standard and keep fighting to be the best version of our offensive line that we can be.”
Finally, here’s the perspective of an outsider turned insider. McLaughlin transferred from Alabama to Ohio State in January. He never thought the Buckeyes were weak when they snapped up Nick Saban, but even when they were, he insisted the only valid criticism came from peers and coaches.
“It doesn’t matter as long as it doesn’t come from the people here,” he said. “When we see something bad, we know it’s bad. We don’t have to hear noise from outside to recognize it.”
That’s good, because the noise will only get louder if this season’s supposedly new and improved product comes anywhere close to “Missouri.” That’s the way it goes with the weakest link.
Whether this connection will hold or fail is the most important question at the start of a season in which all the chips are pushed to the middle of the table.
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