Season's end

The games all have been played, the season's over and the Florida Gators are BCS champions. And in some quarters -- notably Utah, southern California and Texas -- controversy still brews.

That's exactly as it should be. Gawd, how I love college football.

The Buckeyes finished 10-3 and ranked #9, having been beaten only by #2 USC, #3 Texas and #8 Penn State. On the other side of the KintlaLake household, my wife's 9-4 West Virginia Mountaineers ended the season at #23, falling to #17 Cincinnati and three unranked teams.

With this season indelibly in the books, then, what of next year? Will the Buckeyes and Mountaineers be winners?

Last night, during a CNN segment on the political donnybrook in Illinois, the moving image of Chicago journalist Bob Greene popped up on my TV screen. The unexpected appearance of Mr. Greene, who's known best for his work with (and ultimately his dismissal from) the Chicago Tribune, reminded me that he'd once written a poignant column following the death of longtime OSU football coach Woody Hayes.

The two had become friends over the years. In his 1987 column, Mr. Greene remembered a dinner conversation with Coach Hayes, the last time he saw "the old man," revealing that the irascible football icon had, in his twilight, shifted his perspective.

Near the end of the meal, the talk got to the subject of winning. Woody had always been known for his fierce pursuit of victory. Now, though, he said, "You're asking me if there is anything that is as important as winning. And I think the answer is yes. There's something that's even more important than winning."

I asked him what that was.

"There are some lines by a great orator," he said. "My dad used to quote him. He said it better than I ever could:

"'And in the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love hears the rustle of a wing.'"

He was speaking softly.

"You see," he said, "the important thing is not always to win. The important thing is always to hope."

I'll never forget those words or the first time I read them. It's wisdom worth keeping.

In March of 1987, Wayne Woodrow "Woody" Hayes was laid to rest at Union Cemetery beneath a simple granite headstone. His beloved Anne joined him in 1998.

Eight months from now, the 2009 football season will be well underway. With good people, good play and and good fortune, OSU and WVU again will be winners.

In football, as in life, we'll always have hope.

Addendum: Season's end
In his conversation with Bob Greene, Woody Hayes foreshadowed his own epitaph. While I've known that for some time, today I went digging for its source.

The "great orator" to whom Coach Hayes referred was Robert Green Ingersoll (1833-1899). The line he quoted is from a somber soliloquy that Mr. Ingersoll delivered at the graveside of his brother, Ebon. It concludes:

Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry. From the voiceless lips of the unreplying dead there comes no word; but in the night of death Hope sees a star and listening Love can hear the rustle of a wing.

He who sleeps here, when dying, mistaking the approach of death for the return of health, whispered with his latest breath, "I am better now." Let us believe, in spite of doubts and dogmas, of fears and tears, that these dear words are true of all the countless dead.

The record of a generous life runs like a vine around the memory of our dead, and every sweet, unselfish act is now a perfumed flower.

And now, to you, who have been chosen from among the many men he loved, to do the last sad office for the dead, we give his sacred dust.

Speech cannot contain our love. There was, there is, no gentler, stronger, manlier man.

I don't know that I've ever read words more eloquent than those. For me, they place the familiar epitaph into a brilliantly illuminated context.

Coach Hayes is deserving of the orator's tribute, unabridged. Would that the same could be said of each of us.