Here’s the thing about growing up a Tampa Bay Buccaneers fan and an Ohio State Buckeyes fan — on paper, that combo should guarantee at least one quarterback you genuinely like. Not just respect. Not just tolerate. Actually like. But no. My sports life has been a quarterback desert with occasional puddles of competence.
Baker Mayfield is the first quarterback in my entire sports-fan existence that I actually enjoy watching and feel connected to. And I didn’t realize how rare that was until it happened.
The Buckeyes: Winning Everything Except Your Heart
Let’s start with Ohio State. One of the greatest college programs of all time. National titles, Heismans, NFL talent assembly line… and yet, name me a Buckeye QB you were emotionally invested in.
You can’t.
Sure, they win. They dominate the Big Ten like it’s a group therapy league. But the quarterbacks? They feel like temps. System QBs with five-star receivers making them look godly. You never think, “That dude is HIM.” You think, “That dude will get drafted by the Bears and disappear.”
Troy Smith? Cool year, vanished. Terrelle Pryor? Suspended into a wide receiver. JT Barrett? The football version of your work-issued laptop — reliable but nobody’s flexing about it. Cardale Jones had a legendary three-game flame burst and went right back to being a rumor. CJ Stroud is finally the outlier, but by the time he got great, he was already packing for Houston.
I’ve never once said, “I love our quarterback” during a Buckeyes season. The defense? Sure. Wideouts? Easily. Running backs? Always. But QB love? Temporary. Transactional. Emotionless.
The Buccaneers: A Masterclass in Quarterback Settling
The Bucs quarterback history reads like a Craigslist free couch listing.
- Trent Dilfer – Looked like a State Farm manager.
- Shaun King – Diet Vinny Testaverde.
- Brad Johnson – Won a Super Bowl being aggressively unnoticeable.
- Chris Simms – Had a spleen before an NFL career.
- Jeff Garcia – Cool if this was 1998.
- Josh Freeman – Half a season of promise followed by a career sponsored by Ambien.
- Mike Glennon – A bobblehead brought to life.
- Jameis Winston – 30 touchdowns, 30 picks, and 30 headaches a season.
Even Tom Brady — respect to the rings and the avocado smoothies — but he wasn’t ours. He was a six-ring Airbnb rental who used our franchise as his Florida retirement condo.
I never liked any of them. I was just… stuck with them.
Enter Baker: The First Time I’ve Ever Actually Liked My Quarterback
Baker Mayfield walks into my sports life like the loud, slightly tipsy uncle at Thanksgiving who somehow fixes the sink and wins $600 at cards.
He’s fun. He’s cocky in a “try me” way, not a “Jameis just ate a W” way. He scrambles on 3rd and 7 like he’s being chased by child support papers. He throws touchdowns that make no sense and first downs that look like miracles written by Guy Ritchie.
For the first time in my life, I’m not gritting my teeth at the quarterback position. I’m enjoying it. I’m rooting for the chaos. I’m defending him in arguments instead of filing emotional disclaimers like “well, our defense is really young.”
And it hit me: I’ve never liked a quarterback before. Not truly. Not emotionally. Not I’d-buy-his-jersey-and-mean-it liked.
What Years of Mid Does to a Fan’s Brain
When you’ve spent decades watching “good enough” or “please don’t throw that” quarterback play, your standards get weird. You stop asking for greatness and start asking for survival.
You become the fan equivalent of someone who’s only ever eaten plain oatmeal and suddenly discovers hot wings.
Baker isn’t perfect. He isn’t elite. He might implode any game and moonwalk into a defender. But he’s got life. Personality. Swagger. And for once, I actually like the heart of my offense.
Do you know how rare that is after a lifetime of QB purgatory? It’s like finding out your goldfish can do taxes.
In Conclusion: I Am Not Built For This Emotion
I don’t know what this feeling is — being entertained by my quarterback, rooting for him personally, not waiting for the next interception — but I’m riding it til the wheels fall off.
If this is what having a fun quarterback is like, I’m mad it took this long. The rest of the league has been eating steak while I’ve been chewing through microwaved Salisbury mystery meat.
Baker might not be the franchise forever, but right now? He’s the first quarterback I’ve ever looked at and thought:
“Yeah… that’s my guy.”
