My earliest memory is the same story as my need for glasses: a careless scratch to the eye at an LSU tailgate party, while I laid on the ground sobbing as boozed old men towered over me, frantically searching for the nearest beverage that wasn’t beer to flush my eyes out. My vision has, somewhat laughably, become progressively worse as the years go by — bearing me embarrassingly thick lenses and “oh my god, you’re so blind!” remarks from friends sitting next to me upon realization of my poor eyesight. The point isn’t my lack of stellar vision, though — it’s that LSU has been ingrained into who I am, physically and metaphorically.
I’ve never had any particular interest in sports — I still don’t — but there’s something about growing up in southern Louisiana that undeniably births Tiger fans. My childhood revolved around tailgating and attending watch parties — the screams, the chants, the aroma of jambalaya cooking, the thick cajun accents conversing around me, and the overwhelming amount of purple and gold was nothing of unfamiliarity. The roar of Death Valley was my norm, and never once did I think anything of it.
As I got older, my game attendance and interest in it depleted quite a bit. I still poked in on stats here and there, but never fully immersed myself back in. This season, though, had heads turning, and mine was one of them.
LSU fans have truly never seen a season quite like this before: an unbeaten season against an incredibly strong schedule, a Heisman Trophy-winning quarterback who broke numerous NCAA-records and brought our O-line to win National Offensive Line of the Year, and our team had titles involving the Thorpe Award, Biletnikoff Award, National Coach/Assistant Coach of the Year and several more accolades that goes without mentioning.
Our recent win of the National Championship set Louisiana in what is essentially pre-Mardi Gras. Classes were canceled for the university, parades are beginning, marching bands are already making their way up the streets of New Orleans, and Academy has lines wrapped around the building — forming somewhat of their own celebration to subdue the wait. It’s difficult to put into words, exactly, how significant this is for Tiger fans and the state of Louisiana as a whole. What’s most beautiful is that as opposed to our recent championship attendance — the craze of 2007 and the despair of 2011 — this game was purely distilled LSU football simply dominating on the biggest stage yet.
For now, it’s hectic — the internal scramble of it all, the perpetual head-spinning; the parade celebration, the White-House visit, and the upcoming trophy presentations seem to be the focus of everything as of late. It’s vital that we soak it in, celebrate, and throw a big party — as per Louisiana custom.
But aside from the hoopla, there’s going to be a quiet moment once everything settles down where the totality of it all settles in. We’ve witnessed the greatest season in LSU football history (and probably future). Or even more arguably, we’ve been able to witness the greatest football season in the history of college football. We’ve watched Burreaux, our QB, win championships and break records left and right — and sure, stats and wins are great, but this guy won over the hearts of an entire state and culture, to which he used his platform to help the less fortunate and instill belief in those that could not do so themselves. Now that’s a legacy to be proud of.
Over the years, I’ve noticed that each time someone references how terribly impaired my vision is, my thoughts can’t help but flood with reminiscence upon my childhood LSU games — a distant, but nevertheless familiar feeling. Now, the reference, I’d imagine, will invoke new intrusions of reflection: the level of legendary I’ve had the privilege of witnessing this season. And all I can say is that it’s been one helluva season, that’s for sure.
