My friend stopped moving when he walked past Tiger
Stadium.
I treated my friend from Indiana with everything Louisiana has to offer — Cajun food, parties, Mike the Tiger, Cane’s and more parties. But nothing had struck him as remarkable until he walked past Death
Valley.
“How do you not stare at this all the time?” he asked me. “How do you even get to class on time?”
Thinking about it now, I still don’t have a good answer for him.
LSU will go for its 400th win in Tiger Stadium on Saturday against the University of Louisiana-Monroe. Unless the Tigers suffer major injuries, they’re going to win. The victory will be a statement for a program and stadium that I, and many others, take for granted.
Summarizing Tiger Stadium’s 400 wins is too difficult to do in a column, especially for someone who has experienced so few of the games. I can recall all the memories I’ve experienced live, and compare them to the dramatic victories that occurred long before I was born.
I’m from Dallas, but I went to plenty of LSU games as a child because of family in Baton Rouge. The first game I remember was in 2001, when running back LaBrandon Toefield and LSU beat Arkansas 41-38.
Back then, LSU fans were different. People didn’t care about the Tigers’ three losses that season — they just couldn’t believe the team might win the SEC. The fanbases’ spirit was broken from the late ’90s, and all it wanted was a team to be proud of.
As the years went by, I saw the football program become the empire I both feared and admired. As I grew, so did the team.
I remember the team in 2003, the year of LSU’s first national championship in my lifetime. It was the first time I saw a team like the ones I see annually, loaded with athletes and depth at nearly every position.
I remember coming back to LSU in 2005 after Katrina. There were people still
displaced, like my aunt and
cousins who had only recently gotten back to their home in Covington. Those people still had their Saturday nights.
In earlier college days, I remember yelling. Yelling and trying to match the noise of everyone else in the stadium. Yelling until I have brief moments where I almost pass out. Yelling to the point where my voice sounds like Batman for the next three days.
Between all of those wins, I remember the losses as well. I’m not forgetting the triple overtime loss to Arkansas in 2007, refusing to leave the stadium and believing LSU blew a chance to win the national championship.
Now, I cover the Tigers’ games, turning in my fandom for a story and a paycheck. I would never cheer for the team, but I still take a moment to marvel at the field and all the time I’ve spent there.
That’s what I think most people take from Death Valley. So many remember moments in their life by using the stadium as a reference point, a constant throughout their childhood and adulthood.
So pause for a moment next time you walk past Tiger Stadium on the way to a class or your car. Realize the stadium’s importance not only to the team, but to the school and
community it surrounds.
Tommy Romanach is a 22-year-old mass communication senior from Dallas, Texas. You can reach him on Twitter
@troman_28.