Ohio State football offers soldiers a bridge to home

By Zoltan Krompecher

7:16 PM Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Editor’s note: Thursday, Sept. 2 is the start of Ohio State’s football season. The writer of this column tells us how much the Buckeyes mean to far-flung fans.

My saga began as a young boy in the living room of my grandfather’s home. On Saturday afternoons in the fall, you could find me sprawled beside the fireplace, feeding potato chips to the family dog, and watching Archie Griffin and the Buckeyes perform their magic.

A few years later, my grandmother — an immigrant who knew little of football, but recognized my passion for the Buckeyes — secured tickets for me for the “Woody Hayes Show” to see the maestro in person. I had reached nirvana: That day cemented my love for the Scarlet and Grey.

I soon discovered that my passion was matched by other fans of the Big Ten. While football stories enhance conversation, I never fully appreciated their full affect until I deployed to both Iraq and Afghanistan and introduced myself to the war.

Since I joined the Army, Ohio State football has served as a bridge to home as I watched or listened to the roar emanating from the Horseshoe while stationed abroad. Though far from family, I was never alone.

In those moments, physically separated from the amenities of home, we (other Buckeye fans in uniform) would find each other. In a military environment, the most obvious telltale signs of us appear in the form of OSU bumper stickers adorning vehicles, flags brazenly hung from government-issued homes, and OSU T-shirts worn covertly under uniforms during the week before the OSU/Michigan game.

Congregating at firing ranges, sharing MREs under a tree, sitting on drop zones after parachuting or decompressing following a combat patrol, we celebrate the latest news from Columbus.

When possible, we’ll harness technology to connect us to Ohio via the internet, place a Brutus doll in a place of prominence, and gather to cheer our Buckeyes.

But division exists in our ranks: We have Browns fans, Bengals faithful, and still there are some from areas bordering Pennsylvania who are Steelers fans.

We are also divided on the issue of baseball; one group endorses the National League and the Reds, while others long for a World Series trophy in Cleveland.

But we are united in our passion for Ohio State football. In those moments together, we share stories of the Buckeyes and our coming of age regarding our high school football exploits (usually embellished).

Most of us grew up cursing two-a-day football practices in the unforgiving sun, where we ran to the cadence of our coaches’ whistle, but images of someday playing for Woody Hayes, Earle Bruce or Jim Tressel kindled the fire in our bellies.

And during these short interludes between patrols, we travel back to the fields, coal mines, factories and river towns of our youth. Ohio State football serves as our touchstone. Amongst the grit of combat and loss, for a few precious moments we are home. And for a time, we feel clean.

Like everything else, our love for the Buckeyes comes at a cost, but the enemy of my enemy is my brother. And so when confronted by Big 12 and SEC fans, fans of the Big Ten set aside differences and come together as one.

The enemy lurks everywhere: Gator fans gesticulating their arms in an awkward manner meant to symbolize alligator jaws, LSU faithful threatening us with threats of “Tiger Bait!” and Texas fans flashing extended index and pinkie fingers that seemed almost satanic in nature to us, always taunting us with bravado-laden threats of how their conference was going to dismantle the Big 10.

During those times, we — fans of the Big Ten (even Wolverines) — spar back and forth with these misguided fans, armed with statistics, national championships and awards, but it is all in good fun to remind us of home.

Following a loss, we become stoic. Few words spoken, occasional head nods across a dining tent signifying the fresh pain, and then go back to staring down at our trays of uneaten food while drowning out jeers from the non-believers.

Weeks will pass, and then, the initial shock dissipated, we come together in solidarity to offer words of encouragement about the upcoming season and go back to work until the days of August unite us in anticipation of the first kickoff in Columbus.

Michigan fans? They have been relatively silent the past seven years. Respite comes from the lone, and largely silent, Wolverines fan with whom I work. I won’t invite him into my quarters, but maybe-in the spirit of peace — we could share lunch in the chow hall (different tables).

Though none of my children were born in Ohio (all were born in different states patterning wherever the Army stationed us at the time), they consider themselves Ohioans.

On those occasions when we travel home, my children reunite with cousins, aunts and uncles in their support of Ohio State football. The Buckeyes unite us and, as I did with my own grandfather, we spend Saturdays during the fall watching and cheering them on.

When the Buckeyes lose a game, I often threaten to cancel our cable and take up bowling; my nerves can’t take much more. What’s more, I do not want my children to develop into the blubbering spectacle I become following an OSU loss, but it’s too late. During one OSU nail-biter, my five-year-old son cradled up in my arms and sobbed uncontrollably.

I have considered encouraging my children to become fans of teams from the states they were born in, but being the child of professional soldier demands resilience. Thankfully, these periods of irrational thinking last only briefly.

So, instead of enrolling my children in Saturday classes of “Clarinet Made Easy” or “Expressions of Self in Finger-painting,” we will loyally clad ourselves in Scarlet and Gray and root for Coach Tressel and our Buckeyes.

I now find myself in Afghanistan where, along with my body armor, helmet, weapon and boots, is a Brutus doll to keep me company and remind me of home. Amid chaos, there is order.

Go Bucks!

Maj. Zoltan Krompecher grew up in the Catawba area of Clark County and is a 1985 graduate of Northeastern High School who has served with the Green Berets in both Iraq and Afghanistan.

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