We remember Woody.

It was only a "note" in a sport column, but a name jumped out at us: "Municipal Judge Steven B. Hayes, son of former Ohio State University football coach, Woody Hayes, will be handling the case of OSU tail-back, Maurice Clarett, who has been charged with ..."

Woody Hayes! We remember him well. Brilliant, volatile, one of the greatest coaches of his time--the 50s to the early 70s. He won Big Ten championships, national championships, wrote fine books, was a motivational speaker and a clinic lecturer in huge demand. He also loved generals and viewed intellectuals suspiciously.

In Columbus, Ohio, he was worshipped. Players, writers, and assistants turned into jello at the sound of his voice. Even after he was fired for punching an opposing player, his university treated him like a conquering hero. He was given a permanent rent-free office for the rest of his life. ("How we love ya, how we love ya, dear ol' Woody.")

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

We met him only once, at the peak of his reign. He had just won a big game before 90,000 fans and was now holding court in a quaint two-story building close by Ohio Stadium.

The first floor was a meeting room for the king and his court--the media, invited guests, and the players' parents. The king sat at a dais, answering questions and sucking up the adoration of his worshippers.

The question period lasted about 35 or 45 minutes. By then, the players were ready to descend the flight of stairs leading from the second floor.

Woody Hayes walked over to the stairs, faced the audience, and said, "Okay, mothers and fathers, here are your kids!" A tall, hard-faced middle-aged man charged over to the stairs, bounded up two or three steps, and met his son on the way down. He grabbed the kid's head in both hands and planted a kiss right on the boy's lips.

You don't see this kind of emotionalism in Division I football very often, but it was kind of awesome in this particular context: a father's pride and love overcoming his natural toughness and reserve.

We remember wondering whether Woody Hayes would ever have been capable of kissing his kid out loud in public? Some day we're going to have to ask Municipal Judge Steven B. Hayes for his opinion.

No matter. We never did figure out Mr. Woody Hayes, by turns brilliant, inspiring, worldly and then also uncontrollable, almost cruel, and infantile.

Can you imagine one of the great coaches of his time refusing to say the words "Michigan" and "Schembechler" because they were the "enemies" of Ohio State?

Can you imagine a coach famed for his imagination and football knowledge using an offense (the original "three yards and a cloud of dust") right out of the Book of Job?

And the same man, upon learning that the greatest high school passer in Ohio history had announced that he would never play for a coach who ran 75% of his plays between the tackles, informing the boy that he would change his offense if the kid would come to Ohio State.

The kid came and Woody immediately switched to a passing game ... and kept the ball in the air over the kid's entire career at Ohio State.

Probably the best thing Woody Hayes ever had going for him was his wife, Ann, one of the brightest and wittiest women alive. She "explained" Woody best. When asked whether she had ever thought of divorcing him, she replied, "Divorce? Never. Killing him? Yes!"