You ever look at someone and think, “Man, that dude’s got it made”? ESPN face, front-row seats to every major college game, legendary voice booming across the nation every Saturday. But under all that polish and prime-time spotlight, Kirk Herbstreit’s got scars. Deep ones. The kind you don’t see unless he peels the curtain back himself. And recently? He did exactly that.
On the ‘Try That In a Small Town’ podcast, aired on July 14th, Herbstreit did something rare—he got brutally opened about his early Columbus days: “I was a five-star, could have gone to any school in the country, picked Ohio State. Obviously, my dad was a captain there. I was going to go there all along. And then I fell flat on my face. And what I learned was I was an option quarterback learning how to do a seven-step drop. ‘Why am I here?’ is what I thought.’”
Those first few years were a gut punch. Herbstreit rode the bench behind guys like Greg Frey and Kent Graham. The mismatch between his play style and OSU’s offense left him feeling broken. He was a misfit from the jump. Herbstreit was an option-style QB, better at using his legs than planting them in the pocket. But Ohio State’s offense under John Cooper demanded seven-step drops, traditional mechanics, and patience—three things he didn’t exactly have in his toolbox yet.
The emotional toll started to crack him. “I did want to quit…I did. I was 18, 19, 20,” he admitted. “And eventually, I ended up becoming a captain of the team, MVP, most inspirational player.” It’s easy to gloss over that now, considering how polished and confident Herbstreit comes across on ESPN. But back then, he was a teenager lost in his own head. He was so unsure of his place that he dabbled on special teams, even played a little defensive back, anything to matter. The quarterback job wasn’t coming easy, and doubt started to drown him.
Off the field, things weren’t much better. Herbstreit revealed that he secretly went to Ohio State’s team psychiatrist—something almost unheard of in the early ’90s. “I went through hell. And instead of quitting, because of my dad’s encouragement—And I went to a psychologist, a sports psychologist, which back then, when I went to his office, I was making sure no one was looking when I went in, cause I didn’t want my boys making fun of me, ’cause no one went to a sports psychologist in 1990.” All thanks to his pops.
The man he saw, Dr. Alfred Ferrante, slowly helped him rebuild his mental foundation. Herbstreit didn’t just rediscover football—he rediscovered himself. “This guy was helping me rebuild me,” he said. “And my dad. And it was kind of like—whoever your circle is, in your faith, whatever that is—got me through to that point where I ended up being a captain.”
His senior year in 1992 finally brought a breakthrough. Herbstreit was named captain and earned the starting QB job. Statistically, it wasn’t fireworks—he threw for about 1,900 yards, 4 TDs, and 6 INTs—but it was about more than stats. It was validation. A chance to lead the team he nearly walked away from.
The pinnacle of that season? A 13–13 tie against Michigan where Herbstreit threw for a then-school record 271 yards. The game didn’t have a winner, but Herbstreit proved he belonged. That year, he earned team MVP and the respect of Buckeye Nation—not for lighting up the scoreboard, but for grinding through the storm and never quitting.
That story—of misfit to captain, of breakdown to breakthrough—is the real Herbstreit origin tale. Everything we see now on College GameDay, in his commentary, his leadership, even his approach to life—it’s all rooted in those dark OSU days. He didn’t ride a rocket ship to the top. He clawed his way up from rock bottom.
Kirk Herbstreit used to cry over Ohio State every time…
Before he became the face of Saturdays, Kirk Herbstreit was just another Ohio kid obsessed with scarlet and gray. He didn’t just play for Ohio State—he lived and breathed it. And that bond? It was emotional. Like, cry-yourself-to-sleep emotional.
The podcast host asked him casually, “Do you have a favorite NFL team?” Herbstreit grinned and said, “As I got older, I became more of a Bengals fan, but not… if they lose, it’s kind of like, you know, you move on to the next thing.” Then he hit the punch: “Whereas when I was a kid, if Ohio State lost, you know, you’re crying. It’s devastation.”
That wasn’t just a cute memory—it’s a window into who he really is. Herbstreit might be an ESPN star now, but at his core, he’s still that kid who couldn’t bear to see his Buckeyes lose. “I’ve always loved the NFL—but college is just different. It runs through my veins.”
That connection has shaped his entire career. It’s why his analysis on College GameDay feels personal. Why he defends players under pressure. Why he gets emotional on set when Ohio State stumbles. And maybe that’s why he once clapped back at a chunk of the Buckeye fanbase, calling them the “lunatic fringe”—because their negativity hit him where it hurts.
Even now, in the middle of realignment chaos, NIL changes, and coaching drama, Herbstreit remains deeply tied to college football’s soul. He said it best: “The college energy around those stadiums—you just can’t beat that.” Herbstreit’s story isn’t about stats or trophies—it’s about heart. About getting knocked down and choosing to stay. And for him, that all started in Columbus, where he nearly lost it all—and ended up finding who he really was.
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