I was all set to write this as soon as the 2025 NFL Draft ended, but I figured: A. I’d let the dust settle a little bit, and B. Browns fans were crowding the ledge after the Shedeur Sanders pick so better to make sure everyone had gotten safely back inside.
April having come and gone, it got me thinking: April Fools’ Day just doesn’t cut it. Yeah, it’s a day for jokes, pranks and assorted other mischief, some of which are repeated year after year, others which are new and inventive. Some are clever, others are downright cruel. Some result in belly laughs and guffaws, others in fistfights.
Late July, 1983. I was camped out on the bed in my mom and dad’s room, my leg sporting a cast from the foot to the knee and propped up on some pillows, and sweat dripping from every pore in my body in the sweltering heat of the little bedroom, which, thanks to the fact our house didn’t have air conditioning, was like sitting in a blast furnace.
Buckeye Nation has been basking for a month now, Ryan Day has made the rounds on the talk show circuit, and the national championship trophy sits in Columbus, Ohio.
It’s been the better part of 40 to 50 years now, but I still vividly remember the big Christmas Day family gatherings at my grandparents’ house in Brimfield.
A lot of you probably spent the afternoon of Saturday, Nov. 30 like I did: watching the Ohio State-Michigan game.
In November 2001, my wife Kim and I decided it would make for a nice little Thanksgiving trip if we went to see the Oglebay Winter Festival of Lights in Wheeling, West Virginia.
A year ago at this time, I wrote about the trials and tribulations of the 2.5 years I spent working in animal care.
Oct. 2 marked 10 years since the death of my mother, Laura (Willoughby) Hardesty.
So I’m right in the middle of reading Gerry Faust’s 1997 book “The Golden Dream,” detailing his tumultuous time as head coach at Notre Dame and the University of Akron, and it’s turning out to be quite the nostalgic experience for me — as well as a lesson in human nature.