The true classic Clemson-Ohio State game: "Woody Hayes' last stand: Ohio State, Clemson, and the punch that ruined Hayes"

Ohio State Coach Woody Hayes punches Clemson noseguard after an interception in 1978 Gator Bowl. He was fired the next day. Photo: SI

… this game meant nothing, but it is still a YouTube classic

While I still have a pretty good memory, I cannot discern exactly when I first learned how despicable person Woody Hayes was. I was young, perhaps in high school, probably in the 1960s.

However, that started my dislike of Ohio State and the Big Ten, and that animus remains with me today. I quit watching Penn State football after the Nittany Lions joined that conference, and that is my alma mater. 

But, my belief in the fact that Woody Hayes should never have been coaching young men was confirmed on December 29, 1978, in the Gator Bowl game. I was out with some friends at a place called Coffee’s Tavern in Portage Township that night, and we were not watching that game. 

However, when I saw the next day what happened, followed by his firing that morning, I believed that my essential analysis about Hayes was redeemed. 

The Gator Bowl: His career was problematic

This game did not have the mystique of the January 1, 2021, battle in which the Buckeyes knocked off the Tigers in the Sugar Bowl, giving them a chance at the national title. 

Instead, Woody Hayes’ career was caroming down a road that he knew was coming to an end. He and his style, or lack thereof, were no longer admired in much of America. That is probably one of the reasons that I despised him, for his abusive treatment of players, but he knew that his time was short, 

Hayes was 65 when he got to the sideline of that 1978 Gator Bowl. He had lost to archrival Michigan three straight years, and people were speculating about the end. Turning Ohio State around seemed unlikely; conceding defeat was not in him. In retrospect, maybe there was only one way the Old Man could go out ,,,

Hayes had won at least a share of five national championships with older players running off-tackle plays to perfection, in games that were mostly not televised. Hayes had already become an anachronism in his country—a supporter of America’s military action in Vietnam even after it ended and a friend of Richard Nixon even after he was impeached. Now he was an anachronism in the sport he loved.

He knew he had to adapt, but he did not know how to do it. He recruited highly touted quarterback Art Schlichter to help bring Ohio State into the modern age. But when Art’s dad, Max, demanded that Art be allowed to start and throw 20 passes per game, Hayes agreed. And he was true to his word: Art started right away.

But every time Hayes seemed to embrace what football was becoming, he went back to what he wanted it to be. Against Clemson, Hayes stuck with the run even though it wasn’t working and Schlichter was hot. During one stretch, Schlichter completed 13 out of 14 passes, but Ohio State trailed 17–15. They had one last chance, with less than five minutes on the clock, and Schlichter kept firing: 14 yards to Rod Gerald, 12 to Chuck Hunter.

Ohio State had never had a quarterback like this, partly because the Old Man had never wanted a quarterback like this. He wanted to win with brute force and clinical efficiency. Hayes’s hero, Gen. George Patton, said wars were fought with weapons but won by men. Hayes let others try to invent new weapons. He wanted to mold the best men.

Michael Rosenberg, “Woody Hayes’s last stand: Ohio State, Clemson and the 

punch that ruined Hayes,” Sports Illustrated, December 23, 2016

This piece from SI  was adapted from the book that Rosenberg wrote entitled “War as they knew it: Woody Hayes, Bo Schembechler, and America in the time of unrest,” which came out in 2008. 

Why do you slug a college player?

Many people still idolize Hayes, but this play cemented in my mind the belief that Hayes did not belong in college football. I coached for a quarter-century, certainly not at that level, but I knew that young people deserved to be treated with respect, on an off the field. I have lost my temper a few times, but never did I ever think of slugging anyone. 

I did not even swear at them. 

Charlie Bauman, the Clemson nose guard, learned what kind of character Hayes lacked,

It was late now—in the game, in the season, in the Old Man’s career and in the night. Hayes had diabetes and heart problems; his health was worst at the end of the season, and his blood sugar was most out of whack at night.

Bauman was finally pushed out of bounds on the Ohio State sideline, right next to the Buckeyes’ 65-year-old head coach.

Goddamn …

Bauman got up, looked up at all those Southerners in the crowd and raised his hands in celebration.

Why, that son of a bitch.

Woody Hayes grabbed the back of Charlie Bauman’s jersey, wound up and punched him in the chest, just below the neck. Bauman looked over at the Old Man like he might have looked at a poodle nipping at his pants. Bauman was in full pads and a helmet; Hayes was in a windbreaker and a black cap, flailing at him. 

Bauman didn’t strike back. He didn’t even push Hayes away. He just retreated toward his teammates on the field as Hayes kept grabbing at him. Clemson players ran over to the sideline; Ohio State players scuffled with them. One of Woody’s captains, Byron Cato, pulled him away.

From his seat behind the Clemson sideline, [Ohio State President Harold] Enarson could not see what happened. It was too foggy, too confusing. But Ohio State athletic director Hugh Hindman had a better view. Hindman was sitting in the stands next to his right-hand-man, Jim Jones, who had been Hayes’s old academic counselor—or as Hayes called him, his “brain coach.”

“If he hit that kid, Jim,” Hindman said, “he’s done.”

Michael Rosenberg, Sports Illustrated, December 23, 2016

Chose to be fired and not resign

Bauman’s interception set off a timer in Hayes’s head that he could not decipher,

Hayes watched as Art Schlichter dropped back for his 20th pass of the night.

Pass protection had been a weakness for Ohio State all year, but it would not be a problem on this play. The Buckeyes linemen expertly executed their assignments. Poor Clemson noseguard Charlie Bauman tried to make a move to his right and got nowhere. Bauman went left, and Tim Vogler blocked him. Bauman could have rushed for another 15 seconds and he never would have touched Art Schlichter.

Schlichter was in the pocket, going through his progressions. He looked for receiver Doug Donley, but Donley was covered. Next, he looked for Ron Springs, who was open.

Schlichter threw to Springs. He didn’t see Bauman, who was near the line of scrimmage after failing to get to Schlichter.

Bauman stepped to his left, intercepted the pass and took off. Anybody who knew Hayes knew what he was thinking: Goddamn. This was the sort of thing you expected when you got into the passing game. 

The Buckeyes had done everything right—Schlichter went through his progressions and threw to the right man, the linemen had blocked perfectly—and they still threw an interception. This just didn’t happen when you ran the ball—you handed it to Archie Griffin or Jim Otis or Hopalong Cassidy, the linemen executed their perfect blocks, and you conquered some territory, like Patton’s troops did.

Michael Rosenberg, Sports Illustrated, December 23, 2016

Hayes told a reporter that he was going to resign, but he did not tell that to his bosses, the president of OSU and the athletic director, who took the only course that they could,

At 2 a.m., Enarson and Hugh Hindman had met at the president’s hotel room in nearby Ponte Verde and agreed Hayes had to go immediately. At 8 a.m., Hugh Hindman went to Hayes’s room and gave him the opportunity to resign. Hayes knew his career was over. He just couldn’t bring himself to end it.

“That would make it too easy for you,” Hayes told Hindman. “You better go ahead and fire me.”

At 10 a.m., Hindman held a press conference at the Sheraton. He announced that “Coach Hayes has been relieved of his duties as football coach at Ohio State. I prefer not to go beyond that.”

Enarson’s plane was diverted to Pittsburgh because of visibility concerns, and he didn’t even wait until he got to Columbus to address reporters. He held a press conference at the Pittsburgh airport.

“There was no difficulty in reaching the decision,” Enarson said. “There is not a university or an athletic conference in the country which would permit a coach to physically assault a college athlete.”

Michael Rosenberg, Sports Illustrated, December 23, 2016

Was there one reason I despised Hayes?

Today, I cannot identify one reason that I disliked Hayes so intensely. Perhaps it was his identification with Richard Nixon. Perhaps it was his idea that football was like a military battle. Perhaps it was his three yards and a cloud of dust philosophy. 

I think that at the root was the fact that I started coaching young men when I was 19, and I vowed to be the antithesis of coaches like Hayes. I had one coach in baseball who was an abomination and treated me like no young person should ever be, and I always vowed to never treat young men that way. 

Hayes was from a generation that was different, but still, he was overrated as a coach, and Ohio State was overrated as a program, in my opinion. The Big Ten media had made Ohio State national champs often when they did not deserve it.

Coaches like Knute Rockne and Frank Leahey and Ara Parshegian were coaches with dignity and character, but they also lost their tempers. However, these Notre Dame coaches also had character and would never slug a player on any team. 

Hayes did it with his own players in practice, and that was reprehensible. 

I was overjoyed when he was fired. I thought that it was the end of an era. To a certain extent it was, but that same mentality exists in America today. 

Which is the shame of it. 

Dabo Swinney may not slug a player, but he lost a game because he too allowed his ego to take over instead of thinking of his players first. 

Just like Woody.