Center Herb Williams Rises for the Shot as Teammate Jim Ellinghausen Watches During 1980 Game at St. John Arena

The atmosphere was electric inside St. John Arena that night. The kind of energy that hummed through the rafters, igniting a passion that only college basketball in the heart of the Midwest could produce. The hardwood gleamed under the arena lights, freshly polished but soon to be baptized by sweat, effort, and the unrelenting echo of sneakers squeaking against its surface. And at the center of it all, wearing the scarlet and gray of Ohio State, stood No. 32—Herb Williams.

A towering figure with a presence that demanded respect, Williams had become a cornerstone of the Buckeyes’ basketball program by 1980. He wasn’t just tall—he was skilled, smart, and unshakably composed. The game had been intense, a slugfest between two well-matched teams locked in a relentless back-and-forth. But as the ball found its way into Williams’ hands near the top of the key, a moment of calm focus overtook the chaos.

Teammate Jim Ellinghausen, No. 41, stood nearby, hands on knees, observing the action unfold. While his role that possession was more support than spotlight, Ellinghausen’s eyes told a story—one of trust, of expectation, of knowing exactly what Williams was capable of. For those who were there, it wasn’t just a game. It was a memory preserved in amber, a snapshot of Buckeye history that still glows warmly in the hearts of fans.

Williams rose up for the shot. A smooth, fluid motion, textbook execution from a player who had spent years honing his craft. The opposing defense closed in too late. The arc of the basketball left his fingertips and began its climb, the crowd holding its collective breath as it soared toward destiny.

St. John Arena was no ordinary venue. Built in 1956, it had already seen decades of Ohio State basketball tradition. It was a coliseum in the classic sense—fans stacked steeply into the rafters, the sounds reverberating like thunder, the players gladiators beneath banners that spoke of championships past. By 1980, it was home to legends in the making, and Herb Williams was carving out his place among them.

The shot? Good. Nothing but net.

The roar was instantaneous, the kind of sound that shakes your chest and sends chills down your spine. For the Ohio State faithful, it was another moment of magic. For the players, it was just another play in a long, grinding contest. But with every game, every possession, Williams was stacking bricks into the legacy he’d leave behind.

Born in Columbus, Georgia, Herb Williams brought a mixture of Southern grit and Midwestern work ethic to the court. Recruited by Ohio State for his size and skill, Williams quickly established himself as more than just a big man in the paint. He had footwork that would impress a ballet instructor, hands soft enough to catch a rocket pass in traffic, and a basketball IQ that made him a natural leader on and off the court.

By 1980, he was a junior and already a two-time All-Big Ten selection. His stats told one story—points, rebounds, blocked shots—but his impact couldn’t be measured with numbers alone. Williams was the anchor around which the Buckeyes pivoted. Every offensive set ran smoother with him on the floor. Defensively, he altered shots and commanded attention, freeing up his teammates to press and trap without fear.

Jim Ellinghausen, a senior forward, was the ideal teammate in many ways. Tough, disciplined, and selfless, Ellinghausen rarely sought the spotlight, but he always seemed to be where the team needed him most. Whether boxing out an opposing big, setting a hard screen to spring a shooter free, or simply offering a nod of encouragement, Ellinghausen understood that basketball greatness often came from doing the little things.

That image of the two—Williams rising for the shot, Ellinghausen watching intently—is a microcosm of what made that Buckeyes team special. They played together, believed in one another, and understood the value of every player’s role. It wasn’t always about dunks or fast breaks. Sometimes, it was about executing in the half-court, trusting your teammate, and taking the right shot at the right time.

That season, Ohio State battled through the rigors of the Big Ten Conference, facing off against powerhouses like Indiana, Michigan State, and Illinois. Every night was a war, and every win hard-earned. The Buckeyes finished with a strong record and earned a trip to the NCAA Tournament, where Williams continued to show why he was one of the premier big men in college basketball.

But it was games like the one at St. John Arena that remained etched in memory—not just because of the stat sheet, but because of the feeling. The building seemed alive, reacting to every bucket, every turnover, every timeout. And when Williams shot, it felt like the world briefly paused, watching that orange ball trace its path through the air like a shooting star.

After his college career, Williams would go on to be selected 14th overall in the 1981 NBA Draft by the Indiana Pacers. He enjoyed a long and productive professional career, playing 18 seasons in the NBA, including a decade with the New York Knicks. Known for his professionalism, durability, and veteran leadership, Williams transitioned into coaching after retirement, bringing his wealth of experience to a new generation of players.

But for those who saw him in the scarlet and gray, it was those collegiate days that still shone the brightest. Whether it was a 25-point, 12-rebound night against Michigan or a game-saving block against Purdue, Williams made sure Ohio State was always in the fight.

Ellinghausen, for his part, went on to pursue a career beyond basketball, but his role in those pivotal Buckeye years was never forgotten. Players like him were the glue that held championship-caliber teams together. Quiet leaders. Reliable contributors. Unsung heroes.

The legacy of that era of Ohio State basketball continues to ripple through time. Fans still speak of Herb Williams with reverence, and photos from that period—like the one capturing Williams mid-shot, Ellinghausen watching—hang proudly in the halls and archives of the university.

Basketball is often defined by its stars, but remembered because of its moments. And that image, frozen in time circa 1980 at St. John Arena, represents a perfect harmony of teamwork, talent, and trust. It’s more than just a shot. It’s a symbol of an era when Ohio State basketball was a brotherhood, and every pass, every screen, every shot meant something.

And in that fleeting second, as the net snapped and the crowd roared, Herb Williams and Jim Ellinghausen gave Buckeye Nation yet another reason to believe.