You’ll always remember your first time. I remember mine like it was yesterday. The night certainly did not start well. It’s funny how life works like that. The night is darkest just before the dawn. Anyways, it was a cold January evening during my senior year of college (late bloomer, do not judge), but my alcohol blanket courtesy of the most natural light beer on the market was giving me a mixture of warmth and confidence. When you think you’re down and out, just bong a funnel full of social lubricant and you’ll either gain the wherewithal to dig deep within and get out, or you’ll forget everything that happened. Win-win. So that’s what I did. Honestly I probably drank 25 to 30 beers that night. Then, it happened. Zeke broke through the line and raced 85 yards through the heart of the South. Right through Nick Saban, Paul Finebaum, and the ghost of Robert E. Lee himself. And at that moment, I became a National Champion. The first team to ever win the College Football Playoff.

(Yes, I know that this was just the semifinal game, and the Buckeyes did technically have to effortlessly destroy Oregon 42-20 the following week behind Zeke’s 246 yards and 4 touchdowns to win the championship game. But that was just a formality. 0% chance we were losing that game. Sort of like the Miracle on Ice team still having to play Finland for the gold medal.)