Outgoing sports editor Liv Rinaldi (left) poses in Ohio Stadium on Saturday at the spring game. Incoming sports senior writer Bridget Lombardo (right) poses in Ohio Stadium Saturday at the spring game. Credit: Jack Diwik | Managing Editor Sports

The rain hangs in the air, light but constant, as wind cuts across the field at Ohio Stadium. Beneath a sky as gray as shark cartilage, turf pellets slip into our shoes with every step.

The field feels bigger than it ever has.

For one of us, it’s the first time being here like this.

For the other, it’s one of the last.

Standing on the field at Ohio Stadium means two completely different things at the same time. For Bridget Lombardo, a first-time reporter who got hired as a senior reporter for The Lantern for the 2026-27 school year, it’s the start of learning how to navigate the chaos, energy and responsibility of covering college football from the field. And for Liv Rinaldi, a departing sports editor, it’s a final look at a space that once felt overwhelming but has since become routine.

It’s still the Ohio State spring game for both of us, but from two entirely different perspectives: one just beginning to understand it all, and one learning how to hold onto it.

Bridget:

As I move through a sea of scarlet and gray, nerves bubble up. The 100-yard field suddenly feels like 100,000. For a moment, I’m 10 years old again — Nov. 26, 2016 — waiting for a reviewed call on J.T. Barrett’s fourth-down run against Michigan.

Then the nerves fade.

The energy builds — the noise, the movement, the fans — all focused on the first Ohio State football game since December. The moment isn’t overwhelming anymore. It’s exciting.

I’m not watching from the stands.

I’m in it.

As someone who grew up nearly 15 minutes from campus, I’ve been in Ohio Stadium my entire life, but never like this — not on the field, not this close, not as a reporter.

Pregame feels different down here. The noise doesn’t rise and fall — it surrounds you.?

Everything moves faster. It’s chaotic at first, until it isn’t.

From the stands, I thought I had seen everything.

On the field, I realize how much I missed.

Liv:

I used to think my first time on the field would be what stayed with me most.

But it was never just one moment.

“Honestly, being in the ‘Shoe never gets old for me,” Zaina Shaik, an Ohio State athletics intern, said. “Maybe because I grew up in central Ohio and Ohio State has been so legendary and hyped up for my whole life.”

Growing up in Long Island, New York, I could not have understood the scale of it — how Ohio Stadium transforms on Saturdays into something that feels bigger than football.

What changes is not the feeling, but the understanding of it.

It shows up in families attending together, first-time fans taking it in and traditions that bring people back year after year. It lives in the players who have built their lives around the game.

There are stories everywhere.

“I always feel a sense of privilege getting to work there and capture it,” Shaik said.

Bridget:

In Columbus, Ohio State football is a religion. From August to November, Saturdays revolve around it. Grocery stores empty out, and the only traffic that matters is near campus.

For Alex Blackstone, a first-year in computer science and engineering and a member of the spring athletic band, walking onto the field isn’t something he could prepare for.?

“The experiences are very different,” Blackstone said. “I’m up in the student section during the fall, so the preparation for the spring game was more intense but so much more rewarding.”

Even with that preparation, being on the field is something else entirely. The size of the stadium, the proximity to everything happening and the speed of the pregame all stand out more when you’re in the middle of it rather than looking down from above.

“Ohio Stadium feels even bigger when you’re on the field,” Blackstone said. “It’s crazy to think that I’ve watched these athletes on this turf my entire life and now I’m here.”

Liv:

As sports editor, being on the field became part of the routine. Deadlines replaced nerves, and coverage plans replaced awe.?

But the moment itself never really lost its weight. It just became quieter.

“The first time I was in the ‘Shoe was when I worked the Texas game so that definitely set a really high bar,” Shaik said. “But even at games with less people or lower stakes, I always feel kind of amazed at how invested and passionate the fans are.”

Even now, that’s what stands out most. Not just the size of the crowd or the scale of the moment, but how much it still matters — to the fans, players and people covering it.

“It does feel a bit more normal for me now that I know so many of the people that work here and I know my way around more,” Shaik said. “But I’m still always in a little bit of awe.”

But standing there now, knowing this isn’t something I’ll keep doing in the same way, that awareness hits differently.

It’s no longer about figuring out where to stand or what to watch. It’s about realizing how fast it all went.

For Bridget, this is the beginning of learning how to see the field differently — not as a fan, but as someone responsible for telling the story.

For me, it’s the end of doing that from this spot.

Same field.

Same game.

Just two very different ways of understanding it.