Always a Buckeye

Big brother vs. little brother

By For the Columbus Dispatch  • 

Drew Norman is a 2002 graduate of Indian Valley High School and a 2007 graduate from the College of Civil Engineering at Ohio State. A walk-on long-snapper on the 2002, '03, and '04 teams, Drew earned a scholarship prior to the start of the 2005 season. Each week, he gives a former Buckeye player's perspective on the game. Click here for his full biography.

My younger brother Tony is my best friend.  Plain and simple.  He has been my best friend since the day he was born.  We are the oldest grandchildren on my mother's side of the family and the youngest on my father's. 

Growing up, we lived in a neighborhood in which there lived no one close to us in age.  Because of these circumstances, all we really had was each other, but that's all we needed.  For as long as I can remember, we were virtually inseparable.  We had to have made life simple on my mom and dad, because wherever I was, Tony was. 

We did everything as a team.  If I was Michael Jordan, Barry Sanders, Batman, Ice Man, Greg Maddux, Jerome Bettis, or Brett "the Hitman" Hart, you could bet that he was Scottie Pippen, Bo Jackson, Robin, Maverick, Tom Glavine, Reggie Brooks, or Shawn "the Heartbreak Kid" Michaels.  We were always a team. 

Then, at some point, things changed.  Instead of being teammates, we became competitors.  We found that it was more fun to play against each other than it was to play against the "imaginary" team. Everything became a competition.  Whatever one of us did, the other had to do it better.  We found a way to make everything a game. 

This was most evident when it came to football.  We spent hours upon hours in the backyard playing one-on-one tackle football.  These games, which were nothing more than a glorified tackling drill, lasted for hours.  We'd play as long as we were allowed out.  We each had our own set of pads, complete with helmet, shoulder pads, jersey, pants, and spikes.  I can only imagine what the neighbors thought about our backyard battles.  One thing's for sure, everyone knew that we meant business, especially when we had one of our many, shall we say, disagreements.

When fall finally turned to winter, and Mama Norman put the nix on playing outside, we found a way to move the game inside.  During the winter months, we'd use the couch in the living room as a pile at the goal line.  The offensive player would start behind the couch and the defensive player would start in front of the couch.  On "hut", the offensive player would run and jump over the couch as if it was the "pile" at the goal line.  At the same time, the defense would run and jump and try to keep the offense from scoring. 

The rules were simple.  The offense got 4 plays to successfully get over the couch and completely make it to the floor.  If the offense reached the floor, Touchdown.  If the defense stopped the offense from getting to the floor, Turnover.  Simple enough.  Although, I'm not so sure my mom saw it that way. 

As we grew older and were able to play in organized leagues, we didn't have as much time for our "one-on-one" games.  What this meant was that each "one-on-one" game was seemingly that much more important.  A win carried with it bragging rights that lasted for days rather than minutes or hours.  Not only were the one-on-one games becoming less and less frequent, but we were getting more and more competitive.  

With the increase in age came an increase in intensity, competitiveness, and a shear desire to beat each other.  As we progressed into junior high and then high school, Tony and I had very few opportunities to compete against each other in practice.  But, when we had the chance to, we made sure we made the most of it. 

On these rare occasions, you could guarantee that Tony got under my skin, and me under his.  There were times where something would happen at practice and we'd each take the rest of that practice looking for a chance to "take" a shot at the other.  Whether or not we got to take that "shot", when we left the field or the court, we were back to being best friends.  The ability to keep competition on the field was, and is what has allowed us to remain the best of friends.

Now, you may be wondering what all this has to do with Ohio State and Michigan State.  On Saturday afternoon, you're going to see Coach Tressel and Coach Dantonio square off against each other for the fourth time in their careers.  While Coach Tressel and Coach Dantonio aren't brothers by family, they are brothers by trade. 

Each is highly motivated and passionate about what he does.  They each lead programs full of outstanding young men who also happen to be outstanding football players.  They are disciplinarians who expect and demand that their players do things the right way.  They are coaches who demand just as much from themselves as they do from their assistant coaches and players.  They are just as successful at churning out well rounded, young men as they are at churning out victories.  They are the face of their respective programs and two of the most-respected coaches in the college football world.  They are friends who just so happen to have the same profession and share the same goals: Big Ten Championship's; National Championship's; Victories over Michigan. 

Coach Dantonio spent eight years coaching under Coach Tressel.  From 1986 - 1990, he was the defensive coordinator at Youngstown State.  Then, in 2001, he reunited with Coach Tressel for three seasons as the defensive coordinator for the Buckeyes.  Since his departure from Ohio State following the 2003 season, I've had the privilege of meeting several of Coach Antonio's players from both Cincinnati and Michigan State. 

As each of these players describes his individual experiences under Coach Dantonio, I can't help but think of how similar they sound to the experiences I had in my five years with Coach Tressel.  As I've listened to these experiences, it's easy for me to see that Coach Dantonio not only appreciates Coach Tressel as a coach, but also as a "brother." 

The same can be said for the way in which Coach Tressel sees Coach Dantonio.  Bring up Coach Dantonio to Coach Tressel and you'll see him beam just as a big brother does when talking about his little brother.  I can't say for sure, but I would bet that Coach Tressel probably checks the Michigan State score each and every Saturday night hoping to see another victory by the Spartans. 

I think it'd be safe to say the same is true for Coach Dantonio.  For 364 days a year, they hope for nothing but the best for the other.  In the world of college head coaches, they are each other's biggest fan and supporter.  But, that's for 364 days, not 365.

Turn on the television Saturday afternoon and watch the usual head coaches meeting at midfield in pre-game warm-ups.  You'll see two friends taking several minutes to catch up.  This won't be one of those forced coaches "talks".  It will be relaxed and free-flowing.  As the conversation winds down, you'll see each smile, shake the other's hand, and wish him the best of luck for the next four hours.  But, as each turns to his respective sideline, the smiles will fade to looks of stone. 

When it comes time to tee it up, Coach Tressel won't see Coach Dantonio as his "brother", he'll see him as someone he wants to beat.  Someone he needs to beat.  He'll be filled with more desire on Saturday afternoon than he has been all year.  He may not show it, and he certainly won't admit it, but Saturday means a little more than the previous seven games have meant. 

It's not that Coach Tressel didn't want to win the previous seven, because trust me; no one wants to win more than him.  It's just that losing to your little brother is unacceptable.  It's unfathomable.  It can't happen.  Why?  Because, big brothers beat little brothers, that's just the way it's supposed to be. 

When the game ends, and Coach Tressel meets Coach Dantonio at midfield, he wants to be able to look him in the eye, congratulate him on his team's effort, wish him the best of luck the rest of the year, and then jog off the field knowing he beat little brother. 

He won't have to say anything to anyone.  He won't bring it up in future talks with Coach Dantonio because he doesn't need to and doesn't want to.  Instead, he'll get on that plane for the return trip to Columbus knowing that Coach Dantonio knows that big brother got him again.  That's what big brothers do.  They take care of business and move on.

How do I know this?  It's not because I've talked to Coach Tressel about it, or have heard him mention it.  I know because that's how it is.  That's what being the big brother is all about. 

No one's been more proud of my brother and his many accomplishments than me.  I've talked him up and sang his praises more than he ever needs to know.  I've marveled at where he is and what he's done.  But, when he's on one side, and I'm on the other, rest assured I'm going to do whatever it takes to win. 

For the duration of the competition, I'll hate Tony and he'll hate me.  We'll go at each other like there's no tomorrow.  And then, when it's over, we'll go back to being the best of the friends.  That's how it is. 

Now that our living-room football careers have ended, Tony and I have taken our one-on-one battles to the golf course.  There's not as much contact, but there's just as much desire.  We've been known to go holes at a time without speaking.  And that's tough when you're the only two playing. 

Hopefully, at some point Saturday evening, Coach Tressel gets to shake Coach Dantonio's hand with the same feeling I have when I shake my brother's hand after every round of golf we play. 

It's great to know that little brother knows.