You probably recognize the face from a decade of Saturdays on ESPN, back when he and Lou Holtz would go at it like an old married couple. But honestly, if you only know Mark May as the guy who spent years trolling Ohio State fans or wearing a judge’s robe on "College Football Final," you’re missing the real story. Long before the studio lights and the heated debates, Mark May was a terrifying force of nature on the offensive line.
He wasn't just good. He was "never-let-your-quarterback-touch-the-turf" good.
The Pitt Years: Where "May Day" Began
In the late 1970s, the University of Pittsburgh wasn't just a football program; it was an NFL factory. May arrived in 1977 as part of a recruiting class that felt more like an All-Pro roster. We're talking about a group that included Hugh Green and Rickey Jackson. Later, he’d be protecting a young kid named Dan Marino.
Basically, if you were a defensive end lining up across from May, you were in for a long afternoon. They nicknamed him "May Day" because of the absolute distress he caused opponents. It’s a bit of a cliché now, but Marino literally said there were games where his uniform never even got dirty.
Think about that for a second. In the 1979 and 1980 seasons combined, Mark May did not allow a single sack. Not one. He was the human equivalent of a brick wall, only more agile and significantly meaner. By 1980, he was a unanimous All-American and walked away with the Outland Trophy, which is basically the Heisman for the guys who do the dirty work in the trenches.
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Living the "Hog" Life in DC
When the Washington Redskins (now the Commanders) took May in the first round of the 1981 draft, they weren't just getting a tackle. They were drafting a cornerstone for what would become the most famous offensive line in the history of the sport: The Hogs.
Under coach Joe Gibbs and offensive line guru Joe Bugel, May moved to guard and became a charter member of a group that lived on cheeseburgers and punishing defensive lines. It was a different era. You didn't have the specialized diets and sports science of 2026. You had 300-pound men who wanted to run the ball down your throat 40 times a game.
May was a massive part of that identity. He spent a decade in Washington, starting over 100 games and winning two Super Bowls (XVII and XXII). Even though an injury kept him off the field for the first one, he was a staple of that '80s dynasty. In 1988, he finally got his Pro Bowl nod, a season where he started every single game and—true to form—allowed only one sack the entire year.
The ESPN Era and the Buckeye "Beef"
Transitioning to the booth is hard for some players, but May took to it like a duck to water. He started local in Pittsburgh before moving to TNT and eventually becoming a pillar of ESPN’s college football coverage.
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This is where things got... interesting.
The chemistry—or lack thereof—between May and Lou Holtz became legendary. It was essentially "First Take" for the college crowd before that was even a thing. People often ask: did he really hate Ohio State?
Honestly, it became a bit of a running gag, but the bias was so apparent that even Holtz would call him out on air. Some fans theorized it was because he wasn't recruited by the Buckeyes out of high school in Oneonta, New York. Others thought it was a carry-over from his Pitt days. Whatever the reason, it made for great TV, even if it drove fans in Columbus absolutely insane for years.
The Stolen Rings and Life After TV
If you want to know how much his playing days meant to him, look at what happened in 2019. May had his Super Bowl rings stolen from a hotel room. They actually showed up on an episode of "Pawn Stars" after a guy tried to sell them for a fraction of their value. Fortunately, the shop did the right thing, the guy got arrested, and May got his hardware back.
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He’s a member of the College Football Hall of Fame (inducted in 2005), and Pitt retired his No. 73. That’s the kind of legacy that outlasts any controversial take on a Saturday morning pregame show.
While the media landscape has shifted and you don't see him on the main stage as often as you used to, his impact on the game is undeniable. He represents a specific breed of offensive lineman: smart, durable, and occasionally a bit of a provocateur.
How to Appreciate the Mark May Legacy:
- Watch the 1980 Pitt Tape: If you can find old footage of the 1980 Gator Bowl, watch how May handles the edge. It’s a masterclass in hand placement.
- Study the Hogs: For any student of the game, looking at the Washington Redskins' counter-trey schemes from the mid-80s shows why May was such a valuable pull-guard.
- Contextualize the "Villain" Persona: Remember that sports media thrives on conflict. Much of the "anti-OSU" rhetoric was part of a broader broadcast strategy to create debate, even if some of the salt was real.
The next time you're watching a modern offensive tackle struggle with a speed rush, just remember that for two straight years in the toughest era of college football, Mark May didn't let anyone near his quarterback. That's a standard very few have ever matched.