Kirk Herbstreit is tired. Honestly, you can hear it in his voice whenever the topic of Columbus comes up lately. The man who literally bled scarlet and gray as a captain for the Buckeyes has reached a point where he’s just calling it like he sees it, even if that means ticking off the very people he grew up with.
For years, the relationship between Herbstreit and the Ohio State faithful has been, well, let’s call it "strained." But after a wild 2024 season and the early ripples of 2026, it feels like a decision has been made. He isn’t leaving the fandom behind—he’s just stopped trying to please the people he calls the "lunatic fringe."
The Turning Point in the Booth
It wasn't one single game. It was a buildup. Imagine being Kirk: you played for John Cooper, your dad was a captain, and you’ve got one son, Zak, on the roster while another, Chase, decides to head to Michigan. That’s a lot of layers for any human, let alone one on national TV.
During the 2024 season, specifically around that high-stakes Tennessee game in the College Football Playoff, Kirk finally let the filter drop. He went after the 15-20% of the fanbase that he feels has "lost the plot." He wasn't just talking about people being loud on Twitter. He was talking about the folks making Ryan Day feel like he needed an armed guard at his house.
"I'm an Ohio State junkie," Herbstreit said recently. He basically admitted that when the scarlet and gray confetti falls, he's the first one wanting to run onto the field. But he also made a choice. He decided that his credibility as an analyst matters more than being a "homer" who ignores the toxic side of his own community.
The "Lunatic Fringe" Label
The term "lunatic fringe" has become Herbstreit’s go-to. He’s used it to describe fans who value a win over Michigan more than a coach's safety or a player's mental health.
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- The 15% Rule: Kirk estimates that about 15-20% of the fanbase creates 90% of the noise.
- The Ryan Day Defense: He’s been a fierce defender of Day, even when the Buckeyes lost four straight to the Wolverines.
- The Social Media Factor: He’s pointed out how the "psychotic standards" of some fans actually scare off high school recruits.
He’s basically saying: "I love the team, but I'm done with the circus."
Why the "Judas" Narrative is Fairly Ridiculous
If you spend ten minutes on a message board, you’ll see people calling Kirk a traitor. The "Judas" label gets thrown around because he refuses to use "we" when calling Buckeyes games.
But here’s the thing: Kirk is a professional. He’s been doing this for nearly 30 years. He grew up in an era where the goal of a broadcaster was for the audience to never know where you went to school. Compare that to today’s landscape where everyone is "barking" for Georgia or wearing team colors on set. Herbstreit hates that. He’s mentioned how it hurts credibility.
He recently called out colleagues like Elle Duncan for openly cheering for their teams on air. It’s a hill he’s willing to die on. He thinks if he starts acting like a fan, you can’t trust his analysis of an Ohio State vs. Alabama game. And honestly? He’s probably right.
Dealing with the Michigan Connection
The biggest test of Kirk Herbstreit’s decision on Ohio State fandom came when his son, Chase, committed to Michigan. Talk about a nightmare for a Buckeye lifer.
But Kirk’s reaction was surprisingly... normal? He basically said he's a dad first. If Michigan offers his kid an opportunity that Ohio State didn't, he’s going to support his son 1,000%. That didn't sit well with the hardliners. To some fans, a Herbstreit wearing blue is a sign of the apocalypse.
To Kirk, it’s just life. He’s navigating the complexities of modern college football where loyalty to family outweighs loyalty to a logo. It’s a nuanced take that a lot of the "lunatic fringe" just can't wrap their heads around.
The Switch he Flips
Kirk describes his process as "flipping a switch."
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- Prep Mode: He studies the rosters, the film, and the stats like he’s preparing for a final exam.
- Broadcast Mode: He becomes an analytical machine. He focuses on the "how" and the "why."
- Post-Game Mode: This is where the fan comes back. He’s admitted that during "Carmen Ohio," he lets his guard down. He’s human. He gets emotional.
What This Means for the Future
So, has he "abandoned" the Buckeyes? Hardly. But he has decided to stop apologizing for his objectivity.
He knows a huge chunk of the fanbase won't like him. He’s accepted that. He’s realized that if he’s doing his job right, he’s probably going to piss everyone off at some point—the SEC fans think he’s a Big Ten homer, and the Ohio State fans think he’s a hater.
If you're a fan trying to navigate this, here are a few things to keep in mind:
- Broadcasters aren't cheerleaders: Don't expect him to ignore a bad play just because it's his alma mater.
- Personal lives are off-limits: Supporting a son at a rival school doesn't change 50 years of family history in Columbus.
- The noise isn't the reality: Most Buckeye fans still respect Kirk; it's the loudest ones who make it feel like a war zone.
Kirk Herbstreit hasn't made a "decision" to stop being a fan. He’s made a decision to be a professional who happens to be a fan. It’s a distinction that matters, even if it doesn't fit on a protest sign outside the Horseshoe.
The next time you hear him being critical of a Buckeyes quarterback or defending a coach's decision, remember that he’s seen the game from the pocket and the booth. He’s not a hater; he’s just someone who’s seen too much to be a blind follower. That's probably the most "expert" stance anyone can take.