Hey y’all come see…
When the musical ended Sunday afternoon (PERFECT, ‘twas!) and we all turned our phones back on, the message from every news source any and all of us subscribe to was consistent: Les Miles had been fired.
My feelings for this man that I’ve met a few times but never had a real conversation with (unless you count the time he stood next to my 6 ft. tall Amazonian frame and asked if I had any sons he could recruit) run very deep. I’ve defended him, argued for him, and contended that his goofy genius was simply beyond what the rest of us mortals are capable of understanding. I guess there does come a time to admit when I’m wrong, and that time just might be today.
But why have I always felt the staunch need to protect Les Miles? His overall winning record was part of it, and so was the stinging memories of the Archer/Hallman/Dinardo years, but that’s not all of it. Not by a long shot.
It’s the Man under The Hat. The man who arrived in our sweet Louisiana in 2005 right after the devastation of Hurricane Saban and just before those of Katrina and Rita. We the people felt slighted, defeated, and beaten, and he gave us the most welcome distraction and a cause to believe in again. He galumphed into a state really desperate for a glimpse of hope and got to work building a unique and very special thing for us. We got to be a part of something great. Something rare. Something bigger than ourselves. There were no instructions on how to manage a season riddled with weather calamities, postponed and relocated games, and a team and fan base of refugees looking to him in despair for some happy. But he pulled it off. I remember very well when he rewrote the team goals for that year to include “playing for Louisiana.” And I fell in love.
The next several seasons were like riding a wave of insanity mixed with a whole lot of cussing. He confused us, impressed us, entertained us and made us question anything we’d ever learned about the game of football. Oh, but we believed in the Man under The Hat. Coach Miles brought us a BCS Championship in 2007, another salvation year from Hurricane Gustav in 2008, an undefeated regular season in 2011, and too many awards, recognitions, and records to mention here. We all thought he was “Crazy Les” from time to time; but he was OUR “Crazy Les,” and he was steadfast. Remember when the Michigan rumor floated around, and his devoted message?- “I am the Head Coach at LSU. I will be the Head Coach at LSU. I have no interest in talking to anybody else.” Considering the infidelities we as Tiger Fans had endured in the past, those words were like hearing Jerry Maguire … You complete me, Les. You had me at “Let’s Geaux.”
We all got our share of humor out of The Man under The Hat. Whether he was chomping on turf grass or clapping like his nail polish is wet or spinning any number of eloquent, quotable Miles-isms, he kept us laughing. My favorite remains “When I wake up in the morning and I turn that film on, it’s like reading a book and it’s exciting. I don’t read books, but if I read books it would be like reading a book.” Poetry. Because his tenure is so long, he’s the only coach my kids have ever known, and they’ve always loved to swap stories about “what Les Miles did” like families tell tales about silly Uncle Joe. “Mama, we need to get him some qtips and Kleenex…”
But most of all, The Man under The Hat is a man of integrity, character, and loyalty. He’s a man who receives the AP Coach of the Year award on Monday and attends his daughter’s open house on Tuesday. He ensures that graduation is emphasized on his football team, and he encourages the “full measure of success” giving academics and athletics equal importance. His ethics and values have never been in doubt or questioned. There have been no scandals, temper tantrums, or allegations of impropriety where he as an individual man was concerned. These young athletes describe him as a father and an adviser and a counselor. His impact is eternal. He is a mentor and role model to many, including his football players, his recruits and young men aspiring to achieve that status.
And me.
There are lots of tears today on this campus, my own among them. Thank you for the memories, Coach Leslie Edwin Miles, and go forth with the love and respect you have earned. You may not have always had elegance, but you damn sure have class.
Bless it.
