I’ve never seen someone so happy to be a part of something until I met Chris Guillot.
Before the game, he made his rounds with everyone he has spent so much time with over his years. He smiled, shook hands and chatted with so many of the loyal LSU fans he has come to know so well.
Known by most as “The Sign Guy” or “The guy who yells,” Guillot has been leading the iconic “Geaux Tigers” cheers at Alex Box since 1986. He’s gotten to know hundreds of fans, players and even umpires. He’s seen four coaches come through the university, an engagement to his wife in the Box, a newborn son he is more proud of than anything and thousands of Tiger baseball games and moments both at home and on the road.
He has invested hours upon hours of time into this game that he loves so much. For anyone familiar with the program, the sign, with “GEAUX” spelled out in big purple capital letters on a gold background, is as synonymous with the team and its fans as the purple and gold colors themselves.
When LSU is making a rally at the plate, Guillot stands and unleashes the sign and his trademark yell of the five letter word LSU fans know how to respond to with only one correct answer. The chant fills the stadium and breathes life into the park. Pitchers start to feel the pressure, batters plug in to the energy, and the fans relentlessly give everything they have to pull their Tigers back into the game.
Guillot says he doesn’t yell every night. As he’s grown with time, he’s learned to save his voice and let the sign do the work. It’s helped him over the years.
For Guillot, he just sees himself as a steward to the fanbase. A friend to all, he loves the fanbase and his part in it. When I first asked him if he would be willing to talk to me, I told him how much of an impact he’s had on my love for the game. Immediately, he shook his head and smiled at me, assuring me that it was about the fans, not him, that were making the impact.
“I hate the word ‘I’,” Guillot said. “I love the word ‘we’.”
That doesn’t mean he’s not aware of his responsibility as one of the most invested fans at the games. He’s been around the game long enough to understand when the right moment is to infuse the team with the crowd’s energy. He often mixes in chants of “L-S-U” and “Here we go, Tigers, here we go.” The energy at the stadium will often go as he goes.
“Other people yell, and not everybody yells back,” Guillot said with a humble look. “I yell, and everybody yells.”
Guillot grew up in Donaldsonville, Louisiana, a 45-minute drive from LSU’s campus, but right along the Mississippi River just like the school he adores. With his brother and cousins, he grew up playing baseball just like most American kids his age. Some of his family went on to play professionally, but he just stayed in Louisiana, using his charismatic personality to succeed as a chemical salesman.
“It’s in my blood,” Guillot said. “My grandpa, he died when my mom was a young kid. He was a big baseball fan. He glued himself to the radio. It’s in my blood.”
Guillot said he is the “biggest Yankee fan you’ve ever met.” He grew up watching the Bronx Bombers as a kid and has sustained his love ever since.
“First thing I do in the morning is say my prayers,” Guillot said. “Then I get up and go check two things: see if the Yankees won, and make sure the Red Sox lost.”
Guillot didn’t always have his patented tickets down the third base line where he sits for every LSU home game. It took his passion for the game and a decent bit of luck while he was just getting out of college.
“It was a DA out of St. Charles, and I was working behind the counter in a bar in Donaldsonville, my family restaurant,” Guillot said.
The lawyer could see there was something different about Guillot. He had a love for the game that was unrivaled by others his age. That wasn’t something that just developed overnight. It was a product of his environment.
“He goes ‘Hold one second,’” Guillot said. “He walked over to his car, and he gave me the family package. It was four tickets, two parents and two children. I just used it for one ticket. I would get there, and at the time, there were not reserved seats for the gold section in the old Box. I’d get there early and sit in the first row, because I didn’t want to aggravate him.”
And it sprouted from there. Guillot watched the LSU program grow before his very eyes just a few feet in front of him. Skip Bertman took the reins of the program in 1984, just in time for Guillot to see him build the team up to the legendary status it has today. Bertman rattled off five national championships in 1990s, Smoke Laval took over the team shortly after, and then Paul Mainieri got his turn and won LSU’s sixth national championship following him in 2009.
And Guillot has been there to see it all, all the way into the next heir to the college baseball throne in Jay Johnson. He told me he’s learned something unique from each one of them.
“For Skip, it was ‘never give up’,” Guillot said. “For Smoke it was ‘teach me, show me.’ For Paul, ‘be persistent.’ And for Jay, it’s about attention to details and togetherness. ‘We.’”
As the team matured, so did Guillot. He got his career started, got his roots established in the state he was raised in and even got engaged in the old Box.
“[The crowd] stood up and clapped,” Guillot said with a laugh. “I was just happy to hear the word ‘yes.’”
His two favorite moments that he’s seen in the hallowed stadium over the years? That day of his engagement, and getting to carry his newborn son into the stadium for the first time. It speaks to Guillot’s person that at the end of the day, the memories of the baseball itself, with the countless hours he has spent watching the game he adores, get swept away when it comes to his family. That’s what got him into the game in the first place, and it’s what’s made those moments so special for him and millions of other baseball fans who have dedicated so much energy into the game.
Guillot is incredibly proud of his son. He recently graduated from high school and received commissions from the three major service academies in Army, Navy, and Air Force. He’ll be attending West Point, and he is the joy of Guillot’s life.
That’s the real beauty of Guillot’s story, a manifestation of the pride he has in what he does and the people dear to him in his life. He is a perfect example of what baseball, and truthfully sports, have done for so many families: bring them closer together through the shared experience of investing in something that is bigger than themselves. The fanbase Guillot is a part of is another family he’s honored to be a member of. I asked him if there was one word he could use to describe LSU baseball fans.
“Passionate,” he said.
But LSU fans are not strictly passionate for winning. They are rather fervent defenders of the game, so that they can preserve what it does for them and more importantly, the individuals on the field.
“The difference in me, the coaches, the fans, the friendships made with the players,” Guillot said. “It’s just a game. It’s just a game. Everyone thinks of Warren Morris when he hits that home run. You know what I was thinking of? The shortstop (now Red Sox manager Alex Cora) with his head on the ground. And I realized it’s just a game. It’s just a child that just poured his heart out.”
That thoughtfulness permeates throughout the fanbase. Guillot speaks for everyone who visits the Box when he states how appreciative the fans are to have these experiences, relationships, and memories that the players give them every season.
“What I love about our fans and our athletic director is that they always put the players and the university first,” Guillot said.
This story isn’t really about Chris Guillot. Instead, it’s about what baseball has done for people like Guillot all over the world, not just Louisiana or this country. It’s no wonder he walks around the stadium with a smile before each game. To be a part of something as big as that should put a grin on everyone’s face and warmth in everyone’s hearts.