“The” Truth: How The Ohio State University Stole the Definite Article and Held It Hostage

Somewhere between the establishment of the Morrill Land-Grant Act and the invention of the Brutus Buckeye mascot, a dark and grammatical power move unfolded deep in Columbus: Ohio State claimed the.
 
Not a “the.”
Not one of many thes.
The “the.”
​
And they never gave it back.
 
Origins: A State School with Ivy Envy
 
In 1870, when Ohio State was born of pragmatism, cow manure, and a sincere desire to teach agriculture to coal-streaked young men, it was simply “Ohio Agricultural and Mechanical College.” Nobody got misty-eyed. Nobody wore sweater vests. The only thing definite about it was the land grant.
 
But over the decades, something sinister fermented in the waters of the Olentangy.
You see, Harvard doesn’t need a “the.” Yale certainly doesn’t. Michigan, though regrettable in most ways, never begged for one.
 
But Ohio State? They wanted to matter. And not just matter in a Rust Belt way, but matter in a Latin-inscribed, marble-columned, ivy-choked sense. So sometime in the mid-1980s, coinciding suspiciously with the rise of cocaine-fueled branding departments and football TV revenue, they decided.
 
They added the.
 
In 1986, OSU formally changed its name to “The Ohio State University.” Why? To sound important. To sound like the kind of institution that doesn’t just have a marching band, but the marching band.
 
Of course, when you self-appoint your article, it’s less “definite” and more “desperate.”
 
The Theft of a Nation's Article
 
Linguists remain baffled by the move. Dr. Carl Fenswick, emeritus professor of American Pedantry at Northwestern, explains:
 
“We’ve seen universities attach slogans, mascots, and all manner of architectural pretension, but no institution has ever had the hubris to annex an entire part of speech. It’s like Princeton declaring exclusive rights to the semicolon.”
 
Soon after Ohio State's power grab, other institutions panicked. Stanford quietly considered becoming “The Stanford Experience.” UCLA toyed with “The University of That Traffic Jam.” Even Penn State investigated “The Other State School” before giving up and just adding more creamery flavors.
 
Meanwhile, Ohio State doubled down. They capitalized the “The” on merchandise. They fought the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office to defend it. They trained generations of football players to emphasize it in ESPN interviews: “Chad Roberson. The Ohio State University. Definite. Masculine. Confident. Literacy optional.”
 
This wasn’t branding. It was linguistic colonization.
 
An Internal Memo Surfaces
 
In a recently uncovered internal memo from 1991, OSU marketing officials laid out their long-term strategy:

• Phase 1: Capitalize “The.”
• Phase 2: Make everyone say it with reverence.
• Phase 3: Trademark it.
• Phase 4: Replace the state flag with a giant red block O.
• Phase 5: Annex the words “dominant,” “undisputed,” and “bowl eligible.”

 
Though Phase 5 has seen mixed results.
 
Cultural Fallout
 
The effects of Ohio State’s article heist ripple outward even now. Middle school students across the Midwest are struggling to write essays correctly, wondering whether the concept applies to rivers, governments, or simply linebackers.

Meanwhile, at other institutions, petty rebellions have begun.

• Michigan now insists on being “Our University.”
• Purdue experimented with “A Purdue” before realizing it sounded like an off-brand rotisserie chicken.
• Rutgers, no stranger to false pretenses, once floated “The Birthplace of Football and Other Lies.”

 
What Now?
 
Ohio State continues to parade its “The” like a stolen artifact. Every fall Saturday, millions of fans chant it, defenders shout it, and opponents endure it. It is not humility. It is not grammar. It is not even accurate. It is branding as metaphysics.
 
But perhaps the greatest irony is this: Ohio State may have the article, but it’ll never have the humility.
 
Because nothing says “insecurity” like needing an entire country to put respect on your dignity.