Football Short Story
Woody's Salvation - Part 2
Coming out of the locker room one day at Lancaster High School, Rex Kern couldn't believe who was walking out of the principal's office toward him. He looked more closely just to be sure. And he was right! It really was Woody Hayes!
Kern swelled at the thought of Hayes driving to this southern Ohio town for one reason: to recruit him. Never mind that Notre Dame was recruiting him hard for football and places like UCLA and North Carolina were recruiting him for basketball. Never mind that he was good enough in baseball to be drafted by the Kansas City Royals. This was Woody Hayes! In his school! To see him! As the two approached each other, Kern wondered what to say.
"Hello," Kern said. "Hello," Hayes said.
![]() ![]() ![]() L-R: Woody Hayes, Rex Kern, Larry Zelina (Ohio State University Makio Yearbook - Class of 1969) And that was all. Hayes said nothing more. He didn't look at Kern again. He just kept walking. Kern was confused. What had just happened? Wasn't he the reason Hayes was here? Didn't the coach want to stop and talk with him? He was just walking away down the hall.
Kern stood there with the sinking idea that Hayes didn't want him. That was okay, he tried to tell himself. Basketball was his first love anyhow. It was true, too. Like many Ohio boys his age, Kern grew up wanting to be the next Mel Nowell or John Havlicek, players on the 1960 Ohio State national championship basketball team and runners-up to Cincinnati in 1961 and 1962.
So as Hayes disappeared down the hall, Kern thought to himself, "Well, I'll go to Ohio State and play basketball."
The truth was something else entirely. Hayes didn't just want Kern.
He had circled Kern and Larry Zelina, a Cleveland running back, as his two must-have recruits. Each was an Ohio boy, first of all, and Hayes considered the state his fiefdom. Each was seen as a game-bending talent, too. They were the kind of homegrown stars, Hayes told his assistant coaches, that could change the program.
So, while he didn't talk to Kern that day in the hallway, Hayes had carefully plotted his courtship. He was late to the party, considering all the other schools in the mix. Even Ohio State basketball coach Fred Taylor had been wooing Kern for more than a year by the time Hayes came on the scene. But Hayes was performing his due diligence in the manner he did with any recruit. He had gone to the principal's office to check on Kern's grades and character. When he met Kern in the hall, he was on his way to the football office to talk with the coaches.
Later that night, when Kern came home after practice and was talking with his father, a barber, he had nearly forgotten about the nonmeeting with Hayes. "You'll never guess who I had in the chair today," Trenton Kern said. "Who do you suppose it was?" Later that night, when Kern came home after practice and was talking with his father, a barber, he had nearly forgotten about the nonmeeting with Hayes. "You'll never guess who I had in the chair today," Trenton Kern said. "Who do you suppose it was?"
"I have no idea," Rex said. "Coach Hayes was down. I cut his hair." So began the wooing of the player who eventually would lead The Best Class Ever. There were meetings, conversations, the recruiting trip to Columbus. One night, Kern went to jump center on his basketball team and there was Hayes sitting alone in the crowd. And it was a memorable game, if only because Kern missed a free throw to lose it. He sat afterward in the locker room, distraught. He even grew more so when thinking Hayes was waiting for him.
But when he walked out of the locker room, Hayes had left. His parents said the coach had talked with them, saying, "Rex probably isn't in a good mood and wouldn't want to talk to anybody. I know how he feels. I hate losing, too."
That struck an appropriate note with Kern. So did Hayes and Taylor, who constantly talked about education. No one in Kern's family had attended college. As the winter lengthened, as his decision narrowed, Kern felt the tug of not just Ohio State, but of both football and basketball. He had settled on his school, it seemed. He just couldn't settle on his sport.
"I'd really like to go to Ohio State, if they'd let me play both," he told his high school basketball coach, George Hill.
"Is that the only reason you aren't telling them you want to go there?" Hill said.
"Yeah, that's the only reason," he said.
The coach called Taylor and explained the situation. Taylor talked with Hayes. It was agreed Kern could play both sports. Sharing him, the coaches decided, was better than not having him at all.
At halftime of an Ohio State-Illinois basketball game on March 6, 1967, Kern announced in an interview with television announcer Jimmy Crum that he was committing to Ohio State. Immediately afterward, Hayes gave him a list of recruits to call, most notably Zelina.
"We've got to get him," Hayes said. "Tell him you're going to Ohio State and we've got the best group of freshmen the school's ever had." He looked at Kern. "But that depends on us getting Zelina."
Kern looked at the name and phone number on the paper. He had just signed. He had never met Zelina. And now the fate of this class's worth rested on his phone call?
Minutes into his Buckeye career, he was already being asked to deliver.
To be continued ...
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