Few rivalries in college football inspire the kind of raw emotion that the Ohio State–Michigan clash produces. It is more than a football game. It is a cultural event, a regional identity, and for many players who have worn the scarlet and gray or the maize and blue, it is a lifelong bond of loyalty and animosity. This dynamic was once again brought to the forefront when Ohio State wide receiver Jeremiah Smith, one of the most talked about freshmen in the nation, shared his unfiltered feelings toward the Michigan Wolverines on The Triple Option podcast with none other than Urban Meyer, the former Ohio State head coach who himself has been at the center of the rivalry’s history. Smith, who arrived in Columbus with tremendous hype as one of the highest-ranked recruits of the 2024 class, left no ambiguity in his words: “With everything in me, I hate them.”
That declaration, short and sharp, captured attention immediately. It was the kind of statement that only resonates in a rivalry that transcends sports, where hatred is not casual but deeply ingrained. For Jeremiah Smith, his arrival at Ohio State meant more than being a five-star prospect stepping into one of the most storied programs in the country. It meant inheriting responsibility in a rivalry that has defined generations. His choice of words was not a spur-of-the-moment slip of the tongue—it was a public alignment with the culture of Buckeye football, where “The Game” against Michigan is never downplayed. Fans, alumni, and even coaches have long echoed similar sentiments, but when a freshman wideout, still months away from his first taste of the rivalry on the field, openly declares such animosity, it sends a message about the way the rivalry continues to shape the mindset of Ohio State’s athletes.
Urban Meyer, who sat across from Smith during the podcast discussion, has his own storied history in the rivalry. Meyer, during his tenure at Ohio State from 2012 to 2018, never lost to Michigan, going 7-0 against the Wolverines. For many Buckeye fans, that record alone immortalized him in program lore. When Smith expressed his hatred, Meyer’s knowing nod and smirk reflected recognition of something he had drilled into his players for years: that the Michigan game is not “just another game.” Meyer famously introduced countdown clocks in the Ohio State facilities that marked the days, hours, minutes, and seconds until the next meeting with Michigan. He insisted that preparation for that matchup was year-round, and his players understood that success was never fully measured by playoff berths or Big Ten titles if it did not include a win over Michigan. For Meyer to hear Smith speak so strongly as a freshman was validation of the cultural indoctrination that Ohio State continues to instill.
The venom of the rivalry is not manufactured—it is the product of history. Dating back to their first meeting in 1897, Ohio State and Michigan have cultivated over a century of competitive animosity, but it was in the “Ten Year War” between Bo Schembechler and Woody Hayes from 1969 to 1978 that the hatred became mythic. Those years crystallized the rivalry as one in which victory meant everything, and defeat was intolerable. Woody Hayes himself famously refused to call Michigan by name, referring to them only as “That Team Up North,” and it became a tradition that continues in Buckeye culture. When Smith spoke of hating Michigan “with everything in me,” he was not inventing something new—he was channeling a tradition passed down from Hayes, from Meyer, and from every generation of Buckeye who has taken the field.
Yet Smith’s words arrive in a moment where the rivalry’s power dynamic has shifted. For nearly two decades, Ohio State dominated Michigan, winning 17 of 19 meetings from 2001 to 2019. However, in the last three seasons, the tide has turned. Michigan has claimed three straight victories under Jim Harbaugh, flipping the narrative and rekindling old wounds in Columbus. For Ohio State players, particularly the younger ones like Smith, the hatred is now intensified by frustration. To be recruited into Ohio State with the expectation of carrying on a winning tradition against Michigan only to find that the program is in the midst of a losing streak adds urgency and sting. Smith may never have played a snap against Michigan yet, but he feels the burden of restoring order for Ohio State in what fans believe should be a Buckeye-dominated rivalry. His words are not only about disdain—they are a vow that he understands what the game means and what is at stake.
The psychology of the rivalry has always demanded complete buy-in. Ohio State players are taught early that their careers will ultimately be judged by what happens in late November against Michigan. A great season that ends in a loss to the Wolverines leaves scars, while even a mediocre season brightened by a victory in The Game is remembered fondly. When Jeremiah Smith pledged that hatred, he was demonstrating to Buckeye Nation that he is fully invested, that he will carry the emotional weight that comes with the rivalry, and that he is willing to embrace the pressure that has crushed some and elevated others into legend. For a freshman, this is significant because it suggests that he does not see himself as simply a high-profile recruit but as a torchbearer in Ohio State’s most sacred tradition.
The timing of Smith’s comment also matters. Recruiting battles between Ohio State and Michigan are fierce, and both programs fight for supremacy in the Midwest and beyond. When a player of Smith’s caliber not only chooses Ohio State but publicly voices such disdain for Michigan, it resonates in recruiting circles. It sends a message to future prospects about the kind of passion and loyalty that Ohio State instills in its players. It also inflames the rivalry further, as Michigan fans and players are now more than aware of Smith’s feelings, and they will not forget. The day Smith first steps onto the field against Michigan, he will already be a marked man, someone whom Wolverine defenders will look to shut down, not only for competitive reasons but for pride and revenge.
The context of Smith’s statement on Meyer’s podcast adds layers of significance. Meyer is not a neutral interviewer—he is one of the most important figures in Ohio State’s modern history, and he represents the embodiment of how seriously the rivalry must be taken. To declare hatred for Michigan in Meyer’s presence is a kind of initiation, almost like a rite of passage where the former coach, who demanded total focus on Michigan year-round, hears and validates the new generation’s commitment. Fans who heard Smith’s words undoubtedly felt the same sense of continuity, the reassurance that the hatred is alive and well in the next wave of Buckeyes.
But the boldness of Smith’s statement also invites risk. The more publicly one declares hatred for a rival, the more fuel it provides to the opponent. Michigan players and coaches will take note, and when Smith eventually takes the field against them, his words will resurface as bulletin-board material. This is the nature of college football rivalries—every comment can be weaponized. Yet in the Ohio State–Michigan rivalry, silence is rarely an option. Passion is expected, and players who shy away from openly acknowledging the animosity are often seen as not fully invested. For Smith, then, the risk of inflaming Michigan is outweighed by the need to prove to his own program and its fans that he bleeds scarlet and gray.
Smith’s statement also speaks to the broader reality of how sports fandom and player identity are intertwined in college football. Unlike in professional leagues, where rivalries may fluctuate depending on trades and contracts, college football rivalries are deeply cultural. Players are not just athletes—they become representatives of their schools, their alumni, and their regions. For Ohio State, beating Michigan is not just a matter of football but of institutional pride. Alumni who graduated decades ago still measure their happiness in late November by whether the Buckeyes beat the Wolverines. Families raise their children to wear scarlet and gray or maize and blue. By declaring his hatred so forcefully, Smith is stepping into that cultural current, one that goes far beyond his own career and ties him to generations past and future.
The emotion Smith expressed also serves a practical function for the team itself. Hatred of Michigan has long been used as motivational fuel in workouts, practices, and offseason preparation. Players are reminded constantly of the sting of recent losses, and coaches hammer home the need for total dedication to beating the rival. When a player vocalizes hatred, it sharpens the edge for the locker room. It galvanizes teammates, reminding them of what unites them. Smith’s voice, then, is not isolated—it echoes in the ears of teammates who know that they cannot afford another loss to Michigan and who will feed off his passion as they prepare for the coming battles.
Of course, the ultimate test for Smith will not be what he says on a podcast but what he does on the field. Words can inspire, but performance cements legacy. If Smith delivers in The Game with critical catches, explosive plays, or clutch performances, his words will be remembered as prophetic. If not, they risk becoming empty bravado. That is the double-edged sword of speaking boldly in rivalry contexts. Still, Ohio State fans, desperate to reclaim bragging rights after three painful defeats, are likely thrilled to see such confidence and fire in their young star. For them, hatred of Michigan is not just accepted—it is demanded. And in Smith, they see someone who understands this truth instinctively.
In the end, Jeremiah Smith’s declaration is about more than one freshman wide receiver. It is about the endurance of the Ohio State–Michigan rivalry as one of the most emotionally charged traditions in American sports. It is about how culture, history, and identity are transmitted from coach to player, from one generation to the next. It is about how hatred, in this unique context, is not destructive but energizing, binding communities together in a shared sense of purpose. When Smith said, “With everything in me, I hate them,” he was not just speaking for himself. He was speaking for millions of Ohio State fans, for decades of alumni, for teammates past and present, and for the unbroken chain of passion that makes The Game unlike any other.
And when the next installment of Ohio State vs. Michigan arrives, that hatred will be put to the test once more, with Smith now part of the story, carrying the words he has spoken and the expectations they create into one of the most hallowed battlegrounds in sports.
