Urban Meyer Reveals Ryan Day Admits Ohio State Must Sometimes Pass on Top Recruits to Protect the Program’s Long-Term Success
Urban Meyer, one of the most recognizable figures in college football, has always had a finger on the pulse of the sport and its inner workings, especially at a program as storied and scrutinized as Ohio State. Even after stepping away from the sidelines, his insights into coaching strategy and program management carry substantial weight. Recently, Meyer shared a revealing conversation he had with current Ohio State head coach Ryan Day, shedding light on the Buckeyes’ approach to recruiting—specifically, the difficult decisions the program sometimes has to make in choosing to pass on certain high-level recruits for what Day calls the “bigger picture.” This admission not only offers a glimpse into the complex calculus that goes into maintaining a powerhouse football program, but it also underscores the evolving dynamics of leadership, culture, and accountability in the high-stakes world of college athletics.
In today’s landscape, where recruiting is more competitive than ever and the margin for error has shrunk significantly, every five-star player passed up is a headline in itself. But according to Meyer, Day’s reasoning behind such decisions isn’t rooted in misjudgment or lack of effort. Instead, it reflects a commitment to something larger: maintaining a cohesive team culture, preserving the integrity of the locker room, and protecting the long-term health of the program. Day, who took over from Meyer in 2019, has been tasked not just with winning football games, but with upholding a legacy built on excellence and character. That means sometimes walking away from immensely talented players whose presence could compromise team dynamics or create ripple effects that extend far beyond the field.
This revelation adds a new layer of understanding to the challenges elite programs like Ohio State face. It’s easy for outsiders to critique a class ranking that slips to third or fourth nationally, or to question why a top-rated recruit from a neighboring state ends up at a rival school. But Day’s philosophy, as described by Meyer, implies a more nuanced decision-making process—one that requires balancing short-term gains with long-term stability. The pressure to land every big name is immense, and the scrutiny from fans, boosters, and media is unrelenting. Yet, despite that pressure, Day remains steadfast in his belief that the culture of the program cannot be sacrificed at the altar of recruiting rankings.
This kind of discipline is rare in college football, where job security often hinges on immediate results and every recruiting miss is pounced on as a failure. For Day to take such a principled stand—especially in the face of programs that are willing to compromise on character or team fit for the sake of on-field performance—speaks volumes about his leadership style. It also reflects a deeper confidence in the program’s infrastructure, one that doesn’t panic or deviate from its core values even when the stakes are high.
Urban Meyer himself is no stranger to these kinds of dilemmas. During his tenure at Ohio State, Florida, and Utah, Meyer faced numerous situations where he had to weigh the benefits of elite talent against potential locker room consequences. His acknowledgment of Day’s strategy is telling. It signals not just approval, but perhaps a sense of respect for a successor who has managed to uphold many of the foundational principles Meyer believes in, while also putting his own stamp on the Buckeyes’ identity.
Meyer’s comments also offer a rare window into the kind of conversations that happen behind closed doors at the highest levels of college football. Fans often assume that coaches chase every five-star athlete with unrelenting fervor, and in many cases, that’s true. But at a place like Ohio State, where the expectations are sky-high and the margin for error is minuscule, leadership often requires a different kind of courage—the courage to say no, even when the talent on the table is undeniable.
It’s not just about character concerns either. Sometimes the decision to pass on a recruit is influenced by the dynamics of the position room, scholarship numbers, or a player’s willingness to buy into a team-first mentality. The transfer portal and name-image-likeness (NIL) era have further complicated these calculations. Coaches now have to consider not just how a player might perform on the field, but how they might impact chemistry, NIL negotiations, and even future recruiting classes.
Meyer’s disclosure also challenges the idea that every top-tier recruit is automatically a fit for a program like Ohio State. While the Buckeyes have long been a destination for the nation’s best players, they are also acutely aware that not every star athlete will thrive within the program’s demanding culture. Some may crave immediate playing time, others may struggle with accountability, and still others may bring baggage that outweighs their potential contribution. These are difficult, often deeply personal assessments that coaches have to make, and they come with significant risk.
One wrong addition can destabilize an entire unit, or worse, lead to off-field issues that distract from the team’s goals. Conversely, one well-timed decision to pass on a player—however painful in the moment—can ultimately prove wise when viewed through the lens of program continuity and long-term development. Day’s approach, as described by Meyer, seems rooted in this understanding. It’s a strategy that prioritizes sustainability over flash, and cohesion over hype.
It’s worth noting that Day’s tenure has been marked by exceptional recruiting success despite these selective choices. Ohio State has consistently remained near the top of national recruiting rankings, regularly landing five-star talent across all position groups. What separates the Buckeyes from many of their peers is not just the quality of talent, but the way that talent is cultivated and integrated into the team’s fabric. This is not accidental. It’s the result of a deliberate, values-driven approach that emphasizes character, work ethic, and alignment with the program’s mission.
This philosophy also helps explain why Ohio State has remained so resilient in the face of adversity. Whether it’s navigating the COVID-19 pandemic, dealing with coaching staff transitions, or rebounding from tough losses, the Buckeyes have shown a remarkable ability to stay focused and united. That kind of internal strength doesn’t happen by chance. It’s the product of hundreds of small decisions—like the ones Day makes during recruiting—that collectively shape the program’s identity.
Meyer’s insight into Day’s mindset also comes at a time when college football is undergoing massive change. With the rise of the transfer portal, players now have more freedom than ever to change programs, often with little warning. NIL has introduced a new layer of complexity, as financial considerations increasingly factor into recruitment and retention. Amid this shifting terrain, programs that maintain a clear sense of identity and purpose have a distinct advantage. They can weather the chaos because they know who they are and what they stand for.
That’s why Day’s willingness to make tough calls in recruiting is so significant. It reflects not just strategic thinking, but a commitment to preserving something that can’t be measured in stars or highlight reels: the culture. At a time when college football is becoming more transactional, Ohio State’s leadership is choosing to double down on its principles. That’s not just admirable—it’s necessary.
For Meyer to bring this to light is also instructive. He understands the power of narrative in college football, and by highlighting this aspect of Day’s leadership, he is shaping public perception in an important way. Fans, media, and even recruits themselves will take notice of this message: at Ohio State, it’s not just about being talented; it’s about being the right fit. That message resonates, especially with families who are looking for a program that will not only develop their sons as players but also as people.
In the long run, this approach may actually enhance Ohio State’s recruiting appeal. While it might cost them a few headline-grabbing commitments in the short term, it sets a clear standard for what the program expects and values. That clarity can be incredibly powerful. It attracts the kind of players who want to be held to a high standard, who aren’t afraid of competition, and who are looking for more than just a stepping stone to the NFL.
Ultimately, Meyer’s revelation offers a compelling portrait of what it means to run an elite college football program in today’s environment. It’s not just about talent acquisition; it’s about vision, discipline, and the courage to make unpopular decisions for the right reasons. Ryan Day’s acknowledgment that sometimes the Buckeyes must pass on certain recruits for the sake of the program’s long-term success is not a sign of weakness—it’s a testament to leadership.
It’s a message that resonates beyond the walls of the Woody Hayes Athletic Center. For fans, it’s a reminder that success is built not just on who you bring in, but on who you choose not to. For players, it’s a challenge to rise to the standard that Ohio State demands. And for the broader college football world, it’s a glimpse into the kind of leadership that doesn’t chase headlines but builds legacies. In that sense, Urban Meyer’s insight doesn’t just illuminate a philosophy—it celebrates a principle that may very well define the next great chapter in Ohio State football history.
