The pictures flashed in the front of the church too small to hold the overflow crowd waiting to enter Saturday morning. The first showed Kirklin Roberts smiling broadly in a three-piece tuxedo with his date on his arm, ready to take on the senior prom doctors told him he’d never live to see.
The next photo was taken three weeks later at his graduation from Catholic High School, smiling outside the Baton Rouge River Center with the diploma cancer didn’t prevent him from earning.
“Literally the whole place stopped and stood up,” said Catholic High guidance counselor and cheerleading coach Jennifer Thibodeaux of the class of 2014’s reception when Roberts’ name was called. “It was very special. Everyone was standing.”
Those classmates and friends occupied the back left corner of Mt. Carmel Baptist Church on Saturday. Groups of three or four approached Roberts’ casket — some hesitant, others smiling — as Roberts’ photographs kept circulating to their immediate right.
“Flip through his Instagram,” Thibodeaux said. “He’s smiling in every one.”
The slideshow flashed Roberts in his cheerleading uniform and another in a lacrosse jersey. Roberts was a football player when he began school, but his diagnosis forced him to change paths.
It wasn’t the football, though, that put him in special company.
Introduced to Roberts through a mutual friend, LSU senior left tackle La’el Collins befriended the 18-year-old cancer patient who died Nov. 23 after a yearlong battle with renal cell carcinoma — a form of kidney cancer.
“I wanted to get to know him because I always heard about what a good guy he was. Humble, sweet guy,” Collins said Thursday night after LSU’s 23-17 win against Texas A&M. “Just a great kid. Always up, always happy. Never down, sad or out. I think that just spoke volumes about what kind of guy he was.”
Speaking to a reporter after his final regular season game in College Station, Texas, Collins balanced his two size-15 cleats in his right hand, stacked on top of one another with a wristband resting on the shoes. The wristband, which Collins wore around his left calf during the game, read “Team Kirklin.” “#TEAMKIRKLIN” was scribbled in black marker on his right shoe, while the left read “R.I.P. Kirklin.”
Collins displayed the gear emphatically, later giving the cleats to Roberts’ family when the team returned to Baton Rouge. In his usual reserved demeanor, Collins recounted Roberts’ joy in the face of adversity when the two shared a meal at La Carreta earlier in the year — Kirklin’s favorite.
Roberts, whose name and cause consumed his surrounding community with numerous fundraisers, T-shirts and a “Team Kirklin” Twitter account, was bombarded with support and well wishes after his graduation ceremony — so much so that Collins couldn’t get in touch with him, which Collins predicted from the duo’s first meeting.
“I told him all the time,” Collins said. “You’re the real superstar.”
Collins said he talked to Roberts as often as possible; though with his football schedule and Roberts’ health, it only amounted to a few conversations every couple of months. The topics ranged, though the tone remained positive.
“Sometimes he was doing good, sometimes he wasn’t,” Collins remembered. “Once I knew he made it to graduation, once I figured out he made it to senior prom, I was super excited for him. I was so happy for him that he got to do those things.”
“He was a fighter. Always had a smile on his face, and he always continued to fight. He really meant a lot to me.”
With his regular-season career finished and just one game standing between him and a likely selection in the first round of the NFL Draft, Collins was the final player in the Kyle Field interview area as buses churned outside waiting for him to board.
He reflected on his up-and-down final season, the domination he and his offensive linemen displayed in College Station and how to put it all in perspective.
He immediately spoke of Roberts.
“You live one day at a time,” Collins explained. “When you wake up in a new day, everybody doesn’t have that opportunity. I don’t take life for granted at all. To meet a guy like that and understand and listen to the stuff to what he had going through, it made me realize how blessed I’d been.”
Still clinging to his cleats and wristband, Collins set out to explain their significance to a few others gathered around the bus.
“I know he’s in a better place. He’s not suffering anymore, and I know he looked down on me tonight,” Collins said. “I just wanted to do this for my buddy.”

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