There are moments in college football that transcend time, and “The Game” between Ohio State and Michigan is one of them. It is more than just a battle of blue bloods—it is a war of culture, tradition, and pride. Every year, when the final week of the regular season arrives, the anticipation boils over, and the stakes skyrocket. But in an era where players transfer more freely and conference realignment shifts the landscape of the sport, there have been murmurs from outsiders questioning whether the intensity of this legendary rivalry still holds. For Ohio State freshman phenom Jeremiah Smith, such a suggestion is not only misguided—it’s downright insane.
At a recent press availability, Smith made it perfectly clear that The Game is still the heartbeat of Ohio State football. “A rivalry is a rivalry,” Smith said without hesitation. “They don’t like us. We don’t like them. It’s as simple as that.” His tone was direct, his eyes focused, and the message unmistakable: the fire is still burning in Columbus, and he’s already fanning the flames.
Smith is no ordinary freshman. Regarded by many as the most college-ready wide receiver prospect in the last decade, he arrived at Ohio State with a reputation that preceded him. Yet despite all the accolades, stars, and highlights, it’s not the personal hype that drives him—it’s the legacy he’s about to inherit. The Buckeyes have dropped three straight games to Michigan, a streak that has left a sour taste in the mouths of players, coaches, and fans alike. That losing skid hasn’t dulled the rivalry; in fact, it has sharpened the edge, turned frustration into resolve, and summoned leaders like Smith to voice what’s on everyone’s mind: this means war.
To understand why Smith’s words matter, it helps to understand who he is. He’s not from Ohio. He’s not even from the Midwest. Hailing from South Florida, a region known more for sunshine than snow games in late November, Smith had every school in the country pulling at his sleeve. He chose Ohio State because he wanted to compete at the highest level, and because he believed in the Buckeye standard. That standard includes not just winning Big Ten titles and national championships—but beating Michigan. To him, that wasn’t some abstract tradition—it was a mission he embraced from day one.
The fact that Smith is already speaking so passionately about The Game before playing a single down in the rivalry speaks volumes. Freshmen usually take a backseat, try to learn the ropes, and avoid media attention until they’ve earned their stripes. But Smith’s words reveal a mentality that aligns perfectly with what Ohio State fans are desperate to hear: someone who gets it. Someone who’s not treating this like just another game. Someone who understands the emotion, the history, and the need to turn the tide.
When asked directly about critics who claim the rivalry has lost its luster, Smith didn’t mince words. “Anybody who says that, they’re crazy,” he said, with a half-laugh and a shake of his head. “You see how they talk about us. You see how we talk about them. This is real. It’s not fake. It’s not for show. This is real football hate, the right kind of hate.”
In a sport where rivalries often fade due to imbalance or external change, The Game remains immune. And yet, the fact that Ohio State has fallen short the past three seasons has opened the door for questions about toughness, mentality, and whether the rivalry still burns as hot in Columbus as it clearly does in Ann Arbor. Smith’s comments are not just a rebuttal—they’re a declaration of intent. He’s not only aware of what this game means, he’s emotionally invested in the outcome.
Coaches often tell freshmen to avoid getting caught up in the noise. But in this case, Smith isn’t being distracted—he’s being drawn in. The rivalry is not a side dish to him; it’s the main course. His comments echo sentiments shared by many inside the Woody Hayes Athletic Center, where preparation for Michigan is a year-round obsession. There are countdown clocks on the wall. There are daily reminders. And for Smith, those reminders aren’t just background noise—they’re motivation.
What’s more telling is that his understanding of the rivalry wasn’t handed to him—it was absorbed. Smith came into a locker room that had endured the pain of failure, and instead of being overwhelmed by the pressure, he chose to lean into it. He’s already had conversations with veteran teammates who’ve lived the heartbreak, and their stories have left a lasting impression. “You can see it in their eyes,” Smith said. “They don’t want to feel that again. I don’t want to feel it for the first time. We’ve got a job to do.”
The 2025 Buckeyes aren’t just motivated by tradition—they’re motivated by redemption. Ryan Day’s team is stacked with NFL-caliber talent, a retooled coaching staff, and an attitude that feels different. Smith is part of a wide receiver corps that looks unfair on paper, with talents like Emeka Egbuka returning and Carnell Tate on the rise. But beyond the Xs and Os, it’s that emotional undercurrent—embodied in Smith’s tone—that could prove most vital when November rolls around.
Veteran leaders have taken notice of Smith’s mindset. One assistant coach remarked privately that Smith brings “SEC-level swagger to the Big Ten,” and that his competitive drive is matched only by his focus in the film room. Even in summer workouts, Smith is reportedly relentless, pushing his teammates and demanding excellence. That kind of presence matters. It sends a signal—not just to opponents, but to the locker room—that complacency won’t be tolerated, and mediocrity has no place in Columbus.
Ohio State’s fans are starving for revenge. Three straight losses have created a kind of desperation that only a dominant win can cure. In that climate, Smith has become something of a symbol—not of hope alone, but of defiance. He represents the next chapter in a story that must swing back toward Columbus if the program wants to restore its place atop the rivalry and the national stage. The talent is there. The coaching is there. And now, it appears, the mindset is too.
“The Game” has always been about more than football. It’s about bragging rights, recruiting, legacy, and pride. And when someone like Jeremiah Smith steps up to say what everyone else is thinking, it carries weight. He’s not echoing the words of coaches—he’s speaking from the gut. He hasn’t yet played in the cold, blood-soaked tradition of that final Saturday in November, but his heart is already in the trenches. And that’s what makes his comments resonate.
For Ohio State, this rivalry has entered a critical juncture. Lose again, and the narrative spirals further out of their control. Win, and the program reclaims its identity. Smith is part of a class expected to flip the script, and based on his early attitude, he’s not interested in waiting around. He wants to be the one to break the streak. To catch the touchdown that silences Michigan Stadium. To plant the flag in Ann Arbor, not metaphorically, but physically.
Time will tell what kind of impact Smith makes in The Game, but one thing is already clear—he’s not shying away from it. In fact, he’s charging headfirst into it, embracing every ounce of pressure, expectation, and hatred that comes with one of college football’s greatest traditions. “This is why you come to Ohio State,” he said. “To play in The Game. To win The Game. And to never forget what it feels like.”
If those words are any indication, Ohio State may have found more than just their next great receiver—they may have found the spiritual fuel this rivalry has been missing. Jeremiah Smith is ready. The Game still means everything. And he’s going to make sure nobody ever forgets it.
