Prioritizing “winning over everything,” Ohio State opened Wednesday’s practice to the media, offering a glimpse into the Buckeyes’ intense preparation.

Prioritizing “winning over everything,” Ohio State opened Wednesday’s practice to the media, offering a rare and revealing look into a program that is not only chasing perfection but demanding it. For the Buckeyes, the message was clear: there is no margin for error, no tolerance for complacency, and no distractions from the only goal that matters—winning.

As the sun rose over the Woody Hayes Athletic Center, reporters, analysts, and cameras poured in, welcomed into a world that is usually sealed shut. The tone was set early. There were no smiles for show, no rehearsed niceties. Every coach, every player moved with calculated urgency. This wasn’t a photo-op. It was a war room laid bare. Ohio State wasn’t just practicing football—they were forging a mission.

From the moment warm-ups began, the sense of intensity was unmistakable. Strength coaches barked orders, players sprinted with a purpose, and assistants scanned every rep like hawks. Head coach Ryan Day stood at midfield, arms crossed, his eyes constantly shifting from one unit to the next. Every detail mattered. Every missed assignment was met with immediate correction. Every mental lapse was called out.

For a program that defines itself by championships and rivalry dominance, this level of obsession is not new. But in 2025, it’s different. This season feels heavier. The Buckeyes are chasing more than just wins—they’re chasing redemption, legacy, and a return to the apex of college football. Last season’s bitter ending still lingers like a bruise that hasn’t healed. Falling short of the Big Ten title and missing out on the College Football Playoff only amplified the pressure. Now, every moment feels urgent. Every step must bring them closer to a national championship.

The quarterbacks were among the most closely watched. With the departure of Kyle McCord and a reshuffled depth chart, all eyes are on the signal-callers to lead this team not only with arm strength but with leadership, poise, and unshakable command. Devin Brown and newcomer Julian Sayin shared reps, and the competition looked fierce. Both showed flashes of brilliance—tight spirals, smart decision-making, and pocket presence. But just as often, they were pushed to the brink by a defense that is clearly ahead of schedule.

Defensive coordinator Jim Knowles, now entering a critical year, barked out instructions like a general. His group flew to the ball, attacked with ferocity, and displayed a level of cohesion that spoke volumes about their offseason preparation. Veteran leaders like Jack Sawyer and JT Tuimoloau stood tall, not just as players but as emotional anchors. The linebackers were relentless. The secondary was vocal and fast. This defense isn’t just trying to keep up—they’re trying to dominate.

And that’s exactly what Ryan Day expects. During a brief media huddle, Day didn’t mince words. “We’re not interested in anything short of excellence,” he said. “Everything we do, every drill, every film session, every rep—it’s all pointed toward winning. That’s it. Winning over everything.”

Those words aren’t just a slogan. They’re a culture now. And it’s not just about beating Michigan or making the playoff. It’s about controlling the process at every level. In the weight room. In nutrition. In the classroom. In the film room. The Buckeyes are on a mission to eliminate every inch of vulnerability that might stand between them and the ultimate prize.

That drive is felt among the wide receivers, too. The group, often considered the strength of the roster, looked surgical. Marvin Harrison Jr. may be in the NFL now, but Emeka Egbuka and Carnell Tate are ready to take the baton. Their routes were crisp, their hands dependable, and their chemistry with the quarterbacks evident. But what stood out most was their hunger. Each catch came with purpose. Every drop resulted in a push-up or a sprint. Accountability is the norm here, not the exception.

Running backs coach Tony Alford’s group also made a strong impression. TreVeyon Henderson returned with a vengeance, his cuts sharp, his acceleration explosive. The offensive line opened running lanes with aggression, showing promise that the unit might be more cohesive this year. That cohesion will be critical in big games, and it’s being built in these hot, grueling practices in June.

But if there was one area that truly revealed the heart of this team, it was special teams. Often overlooked, the third phase of football got prime focus on Wednesday. Punter Jesse Mirco’s precision, the velocity of kickoff drills, the attention given to lane discipline—none of it was treated as filler. That attention to detail is telling. The Buckeyes are aware that championships are won in the margins, and they’re determined to control every one of them.

As the media watched from the sidelines, what struck many was not just the physicality or the speed—it was the culture. There’s a seriousness, a standard, that permeates everything. Players hold each other accountable. Coaches push without apology. There’s no laziness. No shortcuts. When someone misses a cue, it’s corrected instantly. When someone excels, it’s acknowledged—but only briefly, before the next challenge begins.

In an era where some programs lean into flash, social media antics, or NIL-driven attention, Ohio State has leaned harder into identity, tradition, and grit. The banners on the walls, the echoes of past legends, and the emphasis on The Game are all reminders that this program measures success differently. Beating Michigan isn’t a goal—it’s a requirement. Winning the Big Ten is a checkpoint, not a final destination. The national championship is the only true summit, and the entire program is calibrated to reach it.

Even newcomers understand the stakes. True freshmen and transfers spoke about the “shock” of entering a program with such intensity, but also about the motivation it provides. “You either elevate or you get left behind,” said one freshman offensive lineman. “There’s no middle ground here. The standard is the standard.”

That standard begins with Ryan Day, but it doesn’t end with him. Every assistant, from offensive coordinator Chip Kelly to position coaches grinding through drills, is locked in. There’s a plan for everything. And there’s no patience for excuses. This coaching staff knows that another season without a title will bring scrutiny, and they’re acting like it.

As the practice wound down and players retreated to ice tubs and film rooms, the media slowly exited the facility with a clearer understanding of what drives this program. Ohio State is not just trying to win football games—they are engineering a machine. A culture. A blueprint for excellence that is relentless in its demands and unyielding in its ambition.

And while outsiders debate rankings, playoff models, and recruiting wins, inside the walls of the Woody Hayes Athletic Center, none of that chatter matters. What matters is the scoreboard on Saturdays. What matters is the scoreboard in Ann Arbor. What matters is the College Football Playoff trophy—and nothing else.

Ohio State made a statement Wednesday, and it wasn’t through flashy words or viral moments. It was through sweat. Through discipline. Through the silent, brutal rhythm of practice reps repeated until perfected. The Buckeyes believe that winning isn’t a hope—it’s an outcome they must earn every day. And by opening their doors, even briefly, they gave the world a glimpse into the crucible where that outcome is being forged.

For the players who wear the scarlet and gray, this isn’t just a season. It’s a proving ground. A chance to correct the narrative, to reclaim dominance, to restore what they believe is rightfully theirs. As they push through summer workouts and build toward kickoff, there will be no let-up. Not now. Not ever. Because at Ohio State, winning isn’t a goal. It’s the only acceptable reality.