As Thursday’s ruling was issued, I pulled into my garage.
Presumably, Greg Sankey was touching down in Birmingham. Lane Kiffin likely sat in his office, perhaps watching film. Reporters gathered outside the courthouse. The plaintiffs filed out after 11 hours downtown.
Meanwhile, the group I’d left behind was decked out in purple and gold listening to a recording of The Golden Band from Tigerland. They were enjoying sunset cocktails and ushering in the first football weekend of the year.
Half an hour earlier, I’d previewed this LSU roster for that local organization and taken questions. Not a single one involved the litigation between the SEC, the fifth-year players and LSU.
“What about this offensive line?” a gentleman asked.
“How the backup quarterbacks doing?”
“We got a kicker?”
It was a comforting reminder about how much people care about college football and how little they stress over the complete circus it has turned into over the last six years.
I’ve often used the word “silly” to describe Stanford and Cal playing in the ACC and players playing their seventh college season and high schoolers making $3 million.
This week has been not silly, but disappointing. The disingenuous wording from the SEC’s commissioner has baffled me. LSU’s hyper-aggressive push to add players against the league’s wishes is unsurprising but unnecessary.
Meanwhile, the biggest opener in decades awaits, and now, finally, the stage has been cleared.
Within hours, the campus will be flooded with RVs and the shells of tents that will soon be capped to shade jambalaya pots and ice chests filled to the rim. They’ll come from Bossier to Bogalusa and Slidell to Sulphur to see the LSU Tigers.
It’s Mike’s cage and Victory Hill. It’s the Parade Ground and the Indian Mounds. It’s moms and dads and brothers and sisters coming together like they’ve looked forward to all summer.
They’ll file into Death Valley to hear four notes, cheer three letters, wear two colors and see one winner.
Nothing else matters.
As screwed up as collegiate athletics are, the essence is still beautiful. Commissioners can bicker. Players and coaches can move about. Conferences shift and rules change. Those who care the most just want their gamedays
When the ball is snapped on Saturday Night in Death Valley, no one in that number is going to care what temporary restraining order has been filed, what federal court hearing looms, how much money Jordan Seaton made this summer or where Tre Wilson played last year.
It’s still about that hug from dad when the Tigers score, that sip of beer in the south end zone without worrying what the boss has for you on Monday. It’s seeing the family who’s sat next to yours for 37 years on the east side or your college roommate coming over to watch the game.
That’s here.
It was so apparent to me on Thursday night. And it will continue to come into focus as the weekend progresses.
I don’t know if Dae’quan Wright is going to play for LSU. I can’t tell you who will win in federal court in Birmingham. I have no clue what the relationship between LSU and the SEC looks like in a year’s time.
I can tell you what that stadium will feel like as the sun tucks behind the Mighty Mississippi on Saturday Night.
There’s nothing better.
