When Ryan Day learns that Jim Harbaugh received more prize money than he did, his joy at Ohio State’s triumph is diminished.
The 2025 college football season had culminated in the most glorious of ways for the Ohio State Buckeyes: a National Championship victory that would cement their place among the all-time great programs in college football history. Ohio State’s dominant performance in the championship game was a shining moment for the team, the fans, and head coach Ryan Day, whose leadership had guided the Buckeyes through a challenging season and into the pinnacle of success. Jack Sawyer had been named Player of the Tournament for his relentless performances on defense, while Day himself had been honored as Coach of the Tournament for his strategic brilliance. It was a culmination of hard work, grit, and determination. Yet, in the midst of this well-deserved victory, a shadow lingered over Ryan Day’s joy—one that no amount of championship glory seemed able to erase.
A piece of news surfaced in the wake of Ohio State’s triumph that would become the focal point of Day’s internal struggle. Reports indicated that Jim Harbaugh, the head coach of Ohio State’s archrival, Michigan, had received a significantly higher prize payout for the season—far more than Day’s own. The news came as a bitter pill to swallow for the Ohio State head coach. It wasn’t just about money, though. It was the notion that, despite his team’s championship, his rival—whose Michigan team had not won the National Championship—was being financially rewarded more handsomely than he was. The injustice of it all gnawed at Day in ways that no on-field victory could erase. In the aftermath of Ohio State’s triumph, Day found himself confronting a mixture of conflicting emotions, grappling with the complexities of success, rivalry, and the personal toll that comes with being at the helm of a premier college football program.
The Emotional Weight of Success
Ryan Day had always known that coaching at a program like Ohio State came with tremendous pressure. Expectations were sky-high from the moment he took over the reins from Urban Meyer, one of the most successful and polarizing coaches in college football history. Day’s rise had been swift and meteoric, leading the Buckeyes to College Football Playoff berths and Big Ten championships. But winning the National Championship was supposed to bring a sense of fulfillment, to provide the definitive validation of his coaching abilities and cement his legacy.
After the championship game, Day had allowed himself to savor the moment. He stood at the podium, smiling as reporters and fans alike showered him with praise for his leadership and decision-making throughout the season. He was hailed as one of the best coaches in the country, and the accolades were well-deserved. But beneath the public applause, Day’s thoughts drifted to something that he couldn’t shake—something that lurked in his mind and subtly shifted his emotional state.
Harbaugh’s prize money.
It was an inconsequential detail for most—just another financial metric in the corporate machinery of college football. But for Day, it became an emotional and psychological hurdle that would prove difficult to overcome. Here he was, standing as the coach of the National Champions, but the lingering knowledge that his rival had received more financial compensation was like a cold weight on his chest. How could it be that a coach who hadn’t even won the National Championship was being rewarded more handsomely than he, despite Ohio State’s triumph?
A Rivalry That Defined the Stakes
For anyone familiar with college football, the Ohio State-Michigan rivalry is one of the most heated and storied in the sport. It is a rivalry defined not just by wins and losses but by pride, tradition, and the unyielding desire to be the best. The games between the two teams often carry national implications, and the rivalry transcends the confines of the football field. For Ryan Day, the rivalry with Michigan—and Harbaugh, in particular—was always personal.
Harbaugh had been at the helm of Michigan for several years, and while he had enjoyed some success, his tenure had been marked by a frustrating lack of national titles. Despite his success in other areas, Harbaugh’s inability to win a National Championship with Michigan—coupled with his brash and outspoken personality—made him a figure that Day couldn’t help but see as a foil to his own rise. Harbaugh’s tenure had been one of relative underachievement on the national stage, and yet, here he was—reaping a reward in prize money that exceeded Day’s own, despite Day’s national championship victory.
In many ways, Day had always seen his role as Ohio State’s coach as not just a position of power, but a responsibility. He knew that the Buckeyes were held to a higher standard, and that every season presented a new challenge to uphold the legacy of the program. In this context, it felt as though the recognition—both financially and publicly—that Harbaugh was receiving for doing less felt like an affront to the very values that Ohio State stood for. Day had worked tirelessly, overhauled his coaching strategies, built a championship-caliber team, and led them to the pinnacle of college football. Yet, despite all of that, it was Harbaugh—who had failed to win a championship—who seemed to be enjoying more financial reward. It was a paradox that Day found difficult to accept.
The Question of Fairness
Ryan Day prided himself on fairness. He valued meritocracy and the idea that effort, preparation, and skill should be rewarded accordingly. He knew that his success as a coach was not just about talent or luck, but the result of years of hard work and sacrifice. The championship he had won with Ohio State was a testament to that, a product of months of preparation, planning, and execution.
But when he saw the figures indicating Harbaugh’s higher prize money, Day couldn’t help but question the fairness of it all. How was it that, in the eyes of those who decided such matters, a coach who had not won a national title was being compensated more than someone who had led his team to the very peak of college football? It felt like a slap in the face, not just to Day as a coach but to the entire Ohio State program and its fans. Was success no longer the metric by which coaches were valued, or had something else become more important?
In Day’s mind, the situation highlighted a deeper issue with the structure of college football—a system that, in his eyes, seemed to reward personalities and media attention over tangible success. Harbaugh, despite his inability to win a championship, had a larger-than-life persona and was often at the center of media attention. In contrast, Day’s more reserved, businesslike approach to coaching didn’t always generate the same buzz. Yet, here he was, sitting on top of the college football world, having achieved what so many others could only dream of—and still, Harbaugh was financially ahead. It was a bitter realization, one that began to cloud Day’s sense of satisfaction in Ohio State’s championship win.
The Impact on Day’s Perspective
As the days passed following the championship victory, Ryan Day found himself increasingly consumed by thoughts of fairness, recognition, and the sometimes arbitrary nature of how success was rewarded in college football. His team had earned their place at the top, and his coaching had been pivotal in guiding them there. But no matter how much praise he received for his work, the reality that Harbaugh had received more financial reward continued to sit uneasily with him.
It wasn’t that Day was driven by money—far from it. His sense of pride had always come from the knowledge that he had guided his players to greatness and that his hard work had paid off in the form of a National Championship. But the financial disparity between him and his rival, especially in light of Michigan’s inability to win the ultimate prize, left him questioning the larger dynamics at play in college football.
Day’s thoughts became increasingly philosophical. Was coaching truly about the accolades and financial rewards, or was it about something deeper—about building a legacy, creating an impact on the lives of young athletes, and achieving greatness? His focus had always been on the game itself, on the process of getting his team to perform at the highest level. Yet, the prize money gap made him wonder if, in the end, college football had become too commercialized—too focused on the personalities and the spectacle, rather than the hard-earned achievements on the field.
Finding Closure
In time, Ryan Day would come to terms with the reality that success in coaching was about far more than financial reward. While the disparity in prize money had been an emotional struggle, he knew that his legacy as Ohio State’s head coach would not be defined by the size of his paycheck. His victory, and the triumph of his players, would always be the ultimate prize. But in the quiet moments of reflection, Day would continue to question the broader dynamics at play in the world of college football—where success was measured not just by wins, but by the media circus that surrounded it.
Ultimately, Day’s journey was one of personal growth—learning that the truest rewards in life were not always the ones that could be quantified by money or recognition. The National Championship would remain his crowning achievement, and while the comparison to Harbaugh’s prize money would sting, Day knew that his place in college football history was secure. In the end, it was the memories of the championship season and the pride of leading his team to glory that would sustain him, no matter the financial figures on a spreadsheet.
