For some kid who had grown up in Central Ohio, this was almost as good as it gets.

“Yeah,” I told my buddy, “I just got an email from Tressel. No biggie really.”

Through the wonderful world of email we set up a time and place to conduct the interview. It would be a weeknight at the Woody Hayes Athletic Facility -- the hallowed ground where the Buckeyes were molded into champions.

I arrived at Woody Hayes at about 7:30, walked through the doors and into what I can only describe as Ohio State heaven. In the middle of the foyer was a single bright light that shone down from the ceiling blanketing the 2002 National Title trophy. Surrounding the base of the trophy were rings for every member of the team. It struck me in a way I’d never expected.

“Man,” I thought to myself, “I can’t believe I’ve never been in here before.”

Flanking the Big One were Ohio State’s six Heisman trophies. Talk about a surreal experience. I had trouble wrapping my head around the fact that I was looking at one; I could only imagine the feeling Archie Griffin must have had when he heard is name called and made his way to the podium to collect college football’s highest honor --twice.

In the glass trophy cases surrounding the large square, vaulted room were trophies dating all the way back to the mysterious AP titles and Woody’s numerous Rose Bowl championships. On the wall above them were the pictures of greats like Chris Speilman, Orlando Pace, Andy Katzenmoyer and Eddie George.

I was literally surrounded by greatness and nothing personified that more than those Heisman trophies. I was drawn to them, like a bug about to be zapped, when I heard a voice behind me say, “Hey, you Jim?”

I turned around and there stood the coach.

The man who wore only sweater-vests and lived on my television was standing there, with his wife at his side. The sweater vest, I imagined, was tucked safely in a dresser at home, compliments of the Mrs.

We shook hands and he introduced himself and Mrs. Tressel.

I almost laughed; they needed no introduction.

I nervously shook their hands and began to rattle of small talk as I followed him through the doors that read “Football players only.”

“I really want to thank you both for taking the time out of your schedules to accommodate me and helping with my project,” I robotically said. My mouth was doing the talking but my head was elsewhere.

Players and coaches occupied every room I passed, going over film, getting a little pep talk or just trading jokes. I had played a year of college ball myself, but when we watched film we all crowded into a classroom, sat at desks and watched them on 27-inch televisions. These guys were using auditoriums and projection screens.

We made our way down the hallway and made a right into Tressel’s office. Notebooks and binders were spread out over a beautiful wooden Block O table that had been polished to a high, glossy shine. On the opposite wall hung a huge flat screen TV and on it was a Northwestern wideout, paused in mid-route.