A sign along Olentangy River Road that bears the name of the Les Wexner Football Complex. Credit: Liam Ahern | Sports Photo Editor
As a kid growing up in Columbus, I heard people talk about Woody Hayes like he was a myth. They mentioned the five national championships, the 16 wins over Michigan and the dominance of the early 1970s.
But more than anything, they talked about his character.
That legacy is etched into the walls of Ohio State University’s football facility, where Hayes’ name represents tradition, pride and everything the program claims to be.
But just beneath it, there’s another name: Les Wexner.
Unlike Hayes, what that name represents is far more complicated.
The contrast highlights a deeper failure on Ohio State’s part to reconcile the people it chooses to honor with the values it claims to represent. As scrutiny surrounding Wexner has grown, his continued presence on the university’s most visible program has become harder to justify.
Wexner’s impact on Ohio State is undeniable. His financial contributions helped shape the modern campus, including the football facility that now bears his name, a decision approved by the Board of Trustees in 2007 in recognition of decades of donations and service.
But a legacy is not built on money alone.
In recent years, Wexner’s name has become closely connected to his relationship with convicted pedophile Jeffrey Epstein. The disgraced financier served for years as Wexner’s financial manager and was granted power of attorney in 1991, giving him sweeping control over Wexner’s finances, properties and business affairs.
Court filings and reporting have also detailed how Epstein exerted significant influence over Wexner’s personal and professional life.
Wexner has denied knowledge of Epstein’s crimes, but their connection cannot be denied, and it has reshaped how many view his place in the public eye.
The university is still grappling with fallout from abuse committed by former team doctor Richard Strauss, accused by hundreds of former students of sexual misconduct spanning nearly two decades. Lawsuits tied to the case are ongoing, raising questions about institutional accountability and how long it took those in power to act.
That history is a reminder that universities are not judged only by their traditions, but by how they respond when those traditions are challenged.
Which brings Ohio State back to the present.
As of Feb. 25, more than 300 requests have been submitted through the university’s naming review process calling for Wexner’s name to be removed from campus buildings, according to prior Lantern reporting.
Why hasn’t it happened?
The university is not contractually bound to keep Wexner’s name on the football facility. The decision to rename the complex ultimately rests with Ohio State.
Ohio State football is not just another part of the university. It is the front porch. It is where the university showcases its identity, and the names attached to it reflect that identity.
Right now, that message is hard to reconcile.
Hayes should be honored. Wexner should not.
What is holding the university back? Is it loyalty to a donor who has given more than $200 million, or the reality that Wexner’s financial legacy is still tied to Ohio State’s future?
If money is part of the calculation, it means the issue is about leverage, not legacy.
At some point, though, the question becomes simpler: What does Ohio State stand for?
Honoring someone in the present is not passive. It is a choice that reflects what the university values and what it is willing to defend.
Wexner’s contributions will always be part of Ohio State’s history. That does not change. But the standard for recognition can.
For generations, people in Columbus have pointed to Hayes as a standard for winning and character, for what it means to represent Ohio State the right way.
The question now is whether every name attached to Ohio State meets that same standard.
