Skip Bayless said on ESPN2’s Cold Pizza Wednesday, that Saturday’s game between the Buckeyes and the Wolverines wasn’t the best match-up ever because it lacked the off-the-field drama.

Well Skip, you’ve got your drama.

Bo Schembechler was a Wolverine. He was the enemy. He stood for everything Ohio State hates.

 But somehow, he was one of us.

On the eve on the game he helped thrust into the spotlight — perhaps the greatest match-up in its 103-year history — he answered his curtain call. I didn’t know Mr. Bo Schembechler and I did not know Mr. Woodrow Hayes but I’ve read enough about both men to know what they stood for and that’s good enough for me.
 
I had just gotten out of the shower when I heard the news that Schembechler died. I was sad — I didn’t even know why. I made calls to my family as if some close relative had just passed away.

What Bo and Woody had is something that college football will never see again. Their 10-year feud was the stuff of legend. Nothing lasts 10 years anymore. Cars wear down, marriages dissolve and football careers run their course. In today’s microwave society, were lucky if Cialis can bring us four hours of satisfaction and even then it’s a medical emergency.

The big-dollar contracts are enough to attract the most loyal of coaches. Steve Spurrier tried his hand in the NFL and Urban Meyer couldn’t get out of Utah quick enough for a chance to play in the SEC.

Bo was different though. He was Michigan’s Woody Hayes. Just hours after ESPN reported his death, they showed a clip of a press conference he held in which he turned down a lucrative contract to remain the coach at Michigan.

“Some things are more just important,” he said, holding back the tears. “Like Michigan football.”

I’m a Buckeye, born and raised. I learned from an early age a few things; Michigan is the enemy, Woody is a god and I should rather hope for a 1-11 season with a win over Michigan, than an 11-1 season with a loss to those bastards from that state up north.

Somehow, on my own, whether it was supposed to happen or not, I found a respect for Coach Schembechler.

He was a worthy adversary, someone who understood what the game meant as much as my dad and grandpa told me it did and, in my young eyes, that made him worthy of my distain.

I grew up longing to play for coaches like Woody and Bo. They were guys who got it. They knew what the game meant in the way that only men who have played the game understand it.

It was more than just a football game, it was 100-plus years of tradition and honor. It was a contest between two schools — two states — that was sewn into the very fabrics of everyone’s lives.

This feeling, the reason that Ohio Stadium is at the center of the sports world this weekend is because of what Woody and Bo did years ago.

Part of me is sad that Bo won’t be here, in the flesh, to enjoy a game he and Woody helped create.  The other part of me is happy he’ll be reunited with and old friend.