On Saturday night, I learned the true meaning of the Tiger Stadium traditional saying, “chance of rain: never!”
It’s not because Death Valley is a hallowed ground, immaculately blessed by the football gods with the ability to avoid precipitation whenever the Tigers take the field. It’s because whenever water falls from the sky on a game day in Baton Rouge, the purple and gold faithfuls don’t show up.
The paid attendance was announced at 92,638, but there were never more than 80,000 people in Tiger Stadium on Saturday night. Even more embarrassing than the no-shows, more than half the crowd jumped ship as the rain subsided at the half.
It’s even more disgraceful because of what was honored Saturday night.
As LSU recognized the 25th anniversary of the Earthquake Game, a night when Tiger fans were loud enough to move the earth, fans were chased from the building by what coach Les Miles called “a very stiff dew.”
Twenty-five years ago, 80,000 Tiger fans could cause an earthquake. Now, 80,000 of them can’t stick it out through some inclement weather. Oh, how far the “greatest college football fans on earth” have fallen.
Leaving at halftime may be acceptable against the UABs and Kent States of the world. I’m willing to cut fans slack if they don’t want to stay the full 60 minutes against those proverbial rent-a-wins where teams are paid handsomely to come into Tiger Stadium and take a beating.
But Saturday was Auburn. Not just the Tigers’ Southeastern Conference opener, not just a matchup of undefeated teams, but a bitter rivalry game. Leaving such a game at halftime is unacceptable.
The game was 21-0 at halftime. A three-score lead is nowhere near game over in college football.
Auburn played much better in the second half. Quarterback Nick Marshall and running back Tre Mason moved the ball and scored three touchdowns. The LSU offense answered two of those touchdowns, and the defense kept Auburn from getting closer than two scores. But Auburn fought hard until the end, and it turned into a pretty entertaining half of tackle football.
It’s just a shame there were only about 25,000 people there to enjoy it.
One student told me via Twitter that I didn’t get it. Because I watched the game from the press box, I didn’t understand how cold the rain-soaked fans in the stands were. I grew up a Giants fan in New York. Since I was about 5 years old, I’ve stood in snow and freezing rain in the swamps of New Jersey watching football games. And until recent years, I watched the Giants get spanked and never once left a game at halftime.
So to leave when your team is leading 21-0 against a rival because of “stiff dew,” a slight breeze and a temperature that never dropped below 70 degrees is garbage. If those elements are too tough, shell out the extra money for Saints tickets and go watch some indoor football instead.
LSU fans have always prided themselves on being as raucous and intense a fan base as there was in any sport. What I saw Saturday night was neither raucous nor intense; it was soft, plain and simple.
Credit the fraction of the crowd that stayed. They were loud throughout the game and made Death Valley about as alive as 25,000 people could make it.
But isn’t the fact that we have to credit people for not leaving early from a two-score game against an SEC rival pretty damn sad?
LSU fans need to look themselves in the mirror before the next home game. Do better, or give your ticket to someone who will.
James Moran is a 21-year-old mass communication senior from Beacon, N.Y.