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OREGON, Ohio -- A thousand miles north of where college football’s first playoff finale was about to play out, fireworks echoed off an icy bay on the western edge of Lake Erie. On the shore, in the top left corner of Ohio, a group of hearty souls huddled against the cold to watch, standing where they usually do when preparing for the hunt. From somewhere in the scarlet-swaddled group, a voice spoke up for the out-of-towner’s sake: "Right past where they’re setting those off is where we set up. The ducks come flying right overhead, and we stand there and freakin' slay ‘em."  Welcome to Oregon, Ohio Buckeyes on the Bay, City of Duck Hunters. On Monday night, about 100 citizens from the 20,000-person town congregated at Mike Bihn's clubhouse on the edge of the water, just down the road from the Bay Shore Supper Club. They were there to celebrate the end of an unexpectedly busy week for the normally Rockwellian town.
The front yard was dotted with duck decoys. An inflatable Brutus Buckeye peeked out from a blind in a boat parked in the driveway. Inside, at the mercy of a space heater, some of the only smiling Oregonians in America watched as Ohio State slayed away, taking down the No. 2 Ducks 42-20 for the first national championship in college football's playoff era. Bihn lives in the house where he grew up and owns an excavation company in town with his boy. At kickoff he stood next to Mike Seferian, who owns an auto repair business with his boy. Seferian, who is also in his second term as mayor, took over the shop from his father, who opened the place in 1946. Neither of the men can remember a week quite like this one in Oregon. A few years ago, there was some action in town and a few reporters called when a bill passed for a $1 billion upgrade to the local power plants. “For a town our size, that’s a big deal,” Seferian said. “It didn’t get one-tenth of the coverage that this week did.” The fuss started last Monday when the mayor drew up a proclamation to amend his Oregon’s name so as to leave no confusion about where its college football allegiances lie. For the next week, it declared, this was Oregon, Ohio Buckeyes on the Bay, City of Duck Hunters. It's not the first time sports threatened to change a town’s name. Strasburg, Virginia, flirted with the idea of becoming Stephen Strasburg, Virginia, in 2010 in honor of the pitching phenom's debut with the Washington Nationals. The people of Ismay, Montana, voted unanimously (21-0) in 1993 to change its name to Joe for the former Super Bowl champ. But that was when “going viral” still meant catching the flu.  Seferian said he counted 140 radio stations and newspapers that wanted interviews this week. Calls poured in from everywhere – New York to California, Dallas to Quebec. The New York Times, NPR and Time.com all picked up the story.
The buzz continued to build and local businesses jumped on board. The apparel shop Mr. Emblem -- another family business that outfits most of the local high schools with their letter jackets and spirit gear -- started pumping out T-shirts and sweatshirts with the temporary town name. A few hundred orders piled up, coming from as far away as Florida and Texas. Owner Pat Slygh and her crew were still pressing logos onto shirts in the back of their store as Ohio State players suited up for the game. Voicemails piled up for Mark Rabbitt and Matt Squibb, too. The practical jokers and teachers from nearby Whitmer High School, who met each other while growing up in Oregon, Ohio, were the genesis of all this commotion. They started an online petition to drop the town name and change it to something Buckeye-themed a few days after Ohio State toppled Alabama to set up a meeting with the Ducks. Squibb published the petition and named Rabbitt the movement’s official spokesman without letting him know. When local papers started to call him, Rabbitt played along long enough to figure out what his partner in crime had done. “I thought we’d get three or four signatures. All my friends would sign it,” Squibb said. “Maybe my mom, so that would us give us five.” Social media pushed the petition over 2,000 signatures in three days. The mayor didn’t want to completely drop Oregon from the name – the town was around before the state, after all – so he came up with the "Buckeyes on the Bay, City of Duck Hunters" compromise. The two catalysts were nowhere to be found during Monday night’s celebration, happy to step aside and let others revel in the town’s newfound fame. But they say they wouldn’t mind something for the effort. “We’re still looking for our delivery of a big plate of buckeyes,” Rabbit said. “I thought the city could’ve cut a ribbon. That would’ve been nice.” “Maybe a golden spade for a groundbreaking,” Squibb added. “A key to the city, at least.” “It could be a fake key. It doesn’t matter,” Rabbitt said. Squibb and Rabbitt want you to know they have never harmed any waterfowl. Rabbitt isn’t even an Ohio State fan. Oregon is closer to Michigan’s campus than to Columbus, and during a normal fall weekend, the cheering section at local bars splits pretty evenly between Ohio State and Michigan. On Monday night, though, when the speakers in the clubhouse on the shore blared Queen as the final seconds of Ohio State's upset victory ticked away, everybody was dancing. On Tuesday morning, the mayor would be up bright and early to open the auto shop. Squibb would be teaching art students nonplussed with his brush with fame. Rabbitt would be down the hall, back to rooting for the Wolverines. The town of Oregon would just be Oregon again. But on Monday night, they were all Duck hunters, enjoying a good kill.
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