A LEGEND’S EARLY REALIZATION: Archie Griffin Reflects on the Moment He Knew the 1968 Buckeyes Were Destined for Greatness—How a 14-Year-Old in Eastmoor Heard History Unfold on WVKO as Ohio State Dominated No. 1 Purdue
Fifty years have passed since one of the most defining moments in Ohio State football history, and for Archie Griffin, the memory remains etched in stunning clarity. Long before he became the only two-time Heisman Trophy winner, before he dazzled fans at Ohio Stadium with his trademark blend of vision, balance, and grace, he was simply a 14-year-old kid in the Eastmoor neighborhood of Columbus—an attentive listener with a growing passion for football and a deep love for the scarlet and gray. It was 1968, and he sat captivated by the crackling sound of WVKO radio, where a broadcast that Saturday afternoon sent chills up the spine of young Archie. The mighty Purdue Boilermakers, ranked No. 1 in the nation and loaded with talent, came into the Horseshoe expecting to show why they belonged at the top. But what transpired that day would not only electrify Columbus—it would signal the birth of a Buckeye juggernaut.
The Buckeyes’ dismantling of Purdue was not just an upset—it was a coronation. The 13-0 win may seem modest by today’s high-scoring standards, but in that era, it was a commanding statement against a team considered nearly untouchable. For Griffin, who would soon make history wearing the same Ohio State uniform, that moment was an awakening. “You listened to the games on WVKO radio back then,” Griffin reminisced. “And especially when you listened to that game against Purdue, which came in No.1 in the country. You knew Purdue had some great athletes. And to have the Buckeyes beat them the way they did, then all of a sudden you thought, ‘This Ohio State team could be pretty special.’”
It wasn’t just the win that made the impact—it was the style, the intensity, and the poise that exuded from every snap of the ball. Woody Hayes had put together a ferocious team built on discipline, grit, and youthful talent. That 1968 squad was famously young, with a sophomore class that included legends-in-the-making such as Rex Kern, Jack Tatum, and Jim Stillwagon. The team’s motto might as well have been “maturity beyond their years,” because these young men played with a cohesion and confidence that defied their experience.
For a teenage Griffin, the inspiration was overwhelming. The way Ohio State dominated a team like Purdue—led by the electric quarterback Mike Phipps and bruising fullback Leroy Keyes—was not supposed to happen, not with so many underclassmen on the field. Yet, the Buckeyes dictated the tempo and imposed their will. Listening through the static-filled airwaves of WVKO, Archie Griffin could hear the roar of the crowd, the excitement in the broadcaster’s voice, and the energy that seemed to shake the very foundations of the old Ohio Stadium. He wasn’t just hearing a football game—he was experiencing a moment that would quietly set his life on a new trajectory.
Griffin has often credited his Columbus upbringing and the example of Buckeye football as pivotal to his development. But that game against Purdue was different. It ignited something. Suddenly, wearing the scarlet and gray wasn’t just a dream—it was a mission. That moment became a personal marker in time, a spiritual shift from fan to future legend.
The 1968 team would go on to complete a perfect season, culminating in a 27-16 victory over the USC Trojans in the Rose Bowl—a game that featured a highly touted O.J. Simpson in the opposing backfield. The Buckeyes weren’t intimidated; they were defiant, asserting their supremacy on the biggest stage. The national championship was theirs, and a new golden era of Ohio State football had begun. That year wasn’t just a triumph—it was a cultural phenomenon in Columbus and beyond. And for Archie Griffin, still too young to wear the jersey, it was a beacon pointing to the greatness that lay ahead.
Years later, Griffin would suit up under Woody Hayes, just like the heroes he had listened to over the radio. And he would exceed even the loftiest of expectations. From 1972 to 1975, he rewrote the record books, earning two Heismans, helping Ohio State to multiple Big Ten titles, and becoming a national symbol of excellence and humility. Yet, in his own retellings, he often circles back to that afternoon in 1968, not as a star but as a kid in Eastmoor, wide-eyed and awestruck, grasping for the meaning behind the magic he heard on the airwaves.
The power of sports to inspire is rarely more palpable than in these stories—where an impressionable teenager hears greatness and decides to chase it. Griffin’s tale is not one of mere athletic prowess, but of legacy and belonging. He saw what was possible when a team came together under a unifying vision, and he carried that spirit into his own era, further embedding the ideals of Buckeye football into the university’s identity.
It’s fitting that today, as the 50th anniversary of that legendary game rolls around, it is Archie Griffin reflecting on it—not just as a witness, but as someone who helped fulfill the promise that game seemed to represent. He became part of the continuum that game launched. What was once inspiration became realization. And through it all, the bond between a young fan and the program he adored only deepened.
To the average listener, that 1968 game may have been just another fall Saturday in the Midwest. But to Griffin—and to countless others in Columbus—it was a moment of awakening. It proved that Ohio State football was more than a team; it was a source of civic pride, a cultural cornerstone, and a force that could galvanize a community. The Buckeyes didn’t just beat Purdue—they announced to the world that greatness was not a matter of rank or hype but of heart, preparation, and belief.
It also demonstrated the unquantifiable value of radio in that era. Before smartphones and live-streams, before high-definition broadcasts and viral highlights, there was radio. It brought the game to the porches and living rooms of Ohio, connecting fans in a way that felt intimate and immediate. For Archie Griffin, that connection was life-altering. Through the speaker, he could see the field. He could feel the hits. He could envision a future that seemed to reach out to him like destiny.
The romance of sports often lies in such moments—the quiet ones, not captured in box scores or highlight reels, but in the deeply personal experience of watching or listening and feeling something shift inside. Griffin’s recollection is a testament to the impact teams can have far beyond the sidelines, in places as unassuming as a neighborhood in Eastmoor. That’s where legends are born—where they first dream, inspired by those who came before.
As we honor that pivotal game from 1968 and its golden anniversary, we also celebrate the intangible, transformative power it had on the young life of someone who would go on to become one of college football’s most revered figures. Archie Griffin didn’t just listen to Buckeye greatness that day—he inherited it. And he would spend his own collegiate career ensuring that the bar set by that ‘68 team was not only matched but elevated.
So, fifty years later, the story continues—echoing through generations, through fans young and old, through players yet to be recruited, and through moments still waiting to be heard on radios, screens, and hearts across Ohio. It all began with a game, a neighborhood, and a boy who believed.
