Kirk Herbstreit left ESPN College GameDay to broadcast another game across the country. He picked Florida. He also picked USC, just like the rest of the country. Just after a 4-yard touchdown run by Keiland Williams with 7:49 left in the third quarter, the legendary Tiger Stadium public address announcer Dan Borne informed all 92,910 emotionally charged fans that Stanford defeated the once No. 1-ranked Trojans. Never have I been in a football stadium when the entire attitude of the game was completely reversed because of the celebration in the stands inspired by another team’s defeat. Make no question about it: LSU is the No. 1 team in the country. With this 28-24 victory over the No. 9 Florida Gators, I experienced every element of the perfect game. Action, drama and suspense go without explanation, but comedy wasn’t lost in Death Valley on Saturday night, as defensive end Kirston Pittman’s interception began by careening off of tight end Cornelius Ingram’s helmet. There were tears, blood-curdling screams of passion and pain and personally, a sprained big toe while jumping up and down after LSU took the lead. Never again will I wear sandals in Death Valley. Outside the stadium before the game started, Gator fans were treated to routine yells of “Tiger Bait” as cheers back and forth emanated from Baton Rouge’s No. 1 tourist attraction. The underlying impression of the game to be played wasn’t one of disgust or arrogance, merely anticipation. Tiger fans and Gator fans alike knew they would be in store for something special, an Earth-shattering night. With the final whistle blown, the alma mater sung and the exits flooded with people, Gator fans should have walked out with their heads held high, proud of their team’s performance and thinking about where to keep the ticket stub. We, as fans, have experienced something truly special. We 92,910 in the stadium – along with the estimated 57,000 outside of the stadium, according to LSU Police Department – and every man, woman and child who watched this cosmic battle of bitter rivals were treated to a slice of immortality. We will be telling our kids and grandkids of “The Night” for years to come, about how on Oct. 6, 2007, we knew how it felt to be alive. We will tell our story of the emotional, back-and-forth struggle, including small anecdotes about where we were, who we saw and what we chanted. I will include what I chanted in my stories. No person in the entire LSU student section should be ashamed or regretful for screaming into the sky the words “Teabag Tebow!” Frankly, most people don’t know what it means, and I’m not going to get into that. Ask any member of a fraternity if you really want to know. As of late, the Golden Band from Tigerland has refrained from playing two of LSU’s most storied songs and traditions: “Tiger Rag” and “Oh-Wee-Oh.” The latter is generally played right after an LSU score while preparing to kickoff. Because of the offense of Cockgate against South Carolina – with fans inserting the slang version of South Carolina’s mascot after the words “You suck” – “Oh-Wee-Oh” was played only once, even though we scored four times. The students screamed “You suck” after each opposing player is introduced; should we eliminate the reading of starting lineups? LSU fans in the student section do not require a cue to chant, shout or otherwise while at a sporting event. We come up with cheers of our own, and when necessary we supplant the tenacity of the band’s powerful repertoire with equal emotion and fire. We have been doing so for 83 years, since the Golden Band’s first performance as an 11-member cadet band in 1924. Taking away songs because of passion-driven students experiencing what it’s like to truly live also takes away links to earlier versions of our proud tradition. This year wasn’t the first time national broadcasters reached for the censor button because of rambunctious students. People assume LSU students are capable of rationalizing the reason to be politically correct, during the second quarter of a game they have waited 364 days for, since the 23-10 defeat last year in Gainesville. Saturday night belonged to us in every way. Nothing stopped us from saying what we wanted to say, and no one prevented us from proving people right. But the chants and the cheers aren’t our focus; rather, we’re watching the game. Crowd noise is a wonder bestowed upon us by the many desirable intangibles of sports, and in our case, it’s one of the many reasons why coaches shudder when they see Baton Rouge on their schedule. This past Saturday night was my fondest moment at LSU so far. For anyone who feels the same, I hope you take this memory and do as I do: cherish every second of it. Every single second.
—-Contact Eric Freeman at [email protected]