Ohio State wide receiver Ted Ginn Jr. walks off the field on crutches after the Buckeyes 41-14 loss to the Florida Gators in the BCS national championship game Jan. 8 in Glendale, Ariz. PHOTO COURTESY OF MCT CAMPUS

Credit: John Proppe

Why the year 2017? It is 30 years after The Fumble. It is 20 years after Game 7. And, it will be 10 years after the Disaster in the Desert — something we all should have seen coming.

Years ending in seven lead to extra special, once-in-a-lifetime heartbreak for us Ohioans. When Ted Ginn Jr. got hurt celebrating (he’s number seven on the team by the way), it was out of his control.

I’m sorry, I could have warned everyone sooner, but it was hard for me to accept. I didn’t think ‘the year ending in seven rule’ could apply to Ohio State. The Buckeyes were the most dominant team I’ve ever watched.

I never have expectations for any of my teams, but I, like the rest of Buckeye Nation, felt the power of Tressel and this 2006 team. It felt like destiny.

That’s why I disregarded the signs — and there were signs everywhere — that the Bucks’ season was going up in flames. Don’t believe me? Well, here’s a short list. I’m sure if you think about it, you’ll also find signs in your own life. That is, of course, if you retained memories of that time. If you didn’t, you’re a better person than I.

• My computer. I brought my clunky computer home over break to get looked at it. Supposedly they tinkered around and semi-revived it. On game day, I was traveling from my home in Ashtabula to my apartment in Kent (to plug my computer back in) and then to my old alma mater Walsh University to watch the game with my friends on the five-year plan.

Since August, I have had a homemade, Buckeye-themed collage as my background. Well, on that special Jan. 8 2007 day, the first day I started my computer since its operation, my background was gone and replaced by an entirely blue screen. Blue. Like gators-chomping-on-my-man-parts kind of blue.

• The nut throw. I was preparing for game time with my old buddies from Walsh. My one buddy Dustan is the most die-hard Ohio sports fan ever. I’m pretty hard-core – I’m sure a lot of you are out there – but trust me, no one is like Dustan.

A few hours before game time, Dustan picked up a buckeye that was on the coffee table (Everyone’s got at least one buckeye lying around somewhere, right?) and threw it at someone across the room. He missed. The nut hit the wall and shattered. Was it just a random incident or a sign of impending doom? I was uncomfortable from there on out.

• That stupid truck commercial. You know the truck commercial with the big Rock ’em Sock ’em Robots battling in that boxing ring? Even if your memory is erased, it is impossible to delete this ad, as it no doubt pounded its way into your cerebral cortex. The commercial pits a blue robot against a scarlet robot. The blue robot defeats the scarlet robot handily. He then goes outside and loses to a red truck. We all assumed that meant the Bucks would come out in the second half and prevail. I will now lie down in traffic.

• The half time show. I didn’t actually see the Ohio State band perform. I spent most of half time lying on the floor in a different room. For the brief moment I wasn’t lying down I canceled my Facebook account. I wanted to greatly reduce my contact to the outside world. Most notably I wanted to cut off contact from those people I know who are SEC fans. Yup, this is my life.

Apparently, no one in the band is taking Incredibly Embarrassing Irony 201. If you were lying on the floor of a different room during halftime, I’ll fill you in. The Best Damn Band in the Land took the field and proceeded to form a ship and play songs from the movie Titanic. You know, the movie portraying the greatest example of the hubris of man? The band of the heavily favored, arrogant, No. 1 team in the nation paid homage to it at the halftime of the game they would lose 41-14. Feel free to lay in traffic with me.

On another interesting side note, my buddy Dustan, who also missed the halftime show, watched Titanic in his room after the game to fall asleep. He also despondently looked at me and said, in all earnest, “I don’t know if I can like sports that much anymore.”

Some of the devastation could have been avoided if we just paid attention to the signs or stopped playing zone. On Jan. 8, 2007, the only entity more dominant than the Florida Gators — other than OSU coaching stupidity — was symbolism. It was abundant.

So like I said, be wary of 2017. Until that time? Buy a rowboat.

Contact sports columnist Chris Crowell at [email protected].