A Rivalry Story
A memory crossed my mind this morning…. It was the fall of 1988. We lived in Michigan and it was a super rare occurrence, but LSU was going to play a game at Ohio State. It was during the Mike Archer days so LSU was not exactly breaking headlines with their wins. But Dad took the opportunity to get us tickets, and this game would be my very first LSU game ….even though it wasn’t in Baton Rouge.
We made the drive to Columbus from East Lansing and I remember there was a threat of rain so we had our trusty (relic) LSU ponchos in tow. As we entered the stadium, they were giving everyone red poms and said it was going to be for an impressive TV visual. I remember thinking how wrong it was for us to hold red poms as we wore our purple and gold. I remember the rain. I remember seeing Dad in a different light as he intensely watched the game and me. I guess he was hoping the intensity for LSU football and all its glory would begin to take root at my first ever game. (Well, we all know how that turned out.) I remember Mom nurturing me all day and ushering me around as I gawked at an unfamiliar environment. The moment of using the red poms came and went, and the excitement of the game grew as all the members of a raucous crowd were focused on one thing - a victory. The victory would not go to LSU. We stayed until the lackluster end. I learned then that hope is a blessing and a curse.
And as we filed out of the stadium separating farther away from the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, there was for a moment a stillness and silence between mom and dad and I as we made our way down a glistening, soaked sidewalk with the rain continuing to fall on our purple LSU ponchos that stood out from the sea of red around us. The silence was soon broken by loud voices that belonged to bodies standing in the grass along the sidewalk. The loud voices started shouting ugly words and phrases at the 3 of us…our purple ponchos acting like targets. I was hearing words I hadn’t heard before but they were laced with such contempt that I knew the words were unkind. Heads down, my dad pulled mom and I to him on either side and we continued our walk as the shouting and pointing continued. I finally mumbled in awe, “Daddy, why are they saying those things? We lost. They won. Why do they sound so mean?” Though I don’t remember his exact reply, it was something similar to: “Lizzie, some people just have no class. You can’t worry about them.”
At the time I had no clue how much this moment would stay with me. But it impacted me enough that I’ve thought of this memory every time it’s fall, every football season, and every time I hear “Ohio State University.”
Fast forward maybe close to 10 years to 1990-something. LSU vs Bama in Tuscaloosa. My first time on that campus. You could sense the tension then, but not like today’s rivalry. I cheered my Tigers on like mad. Words I had heard my dad say in football anger and frustration shot out of my own mouth while he scolded me but secretly chuckled. I wanted LSU to win so badly. I never took my eyes off the field. I grew annoyed at the crimson and white pom that was being shook over my head behind me. The game ended. LSU lost. And as we stormed out of the stadium with my anger rising, a man waved his crimson and white pom in my face and said, “Roll Tide!” My eyes glared at him as I found some quite vile words that I threw in his direction, and as the man’s eyebrows raised in surprise at my selection of vocabulary, I felt the grip of my father’s hand in the form of his disenchanted and disgusted voice, and in just the two syllables of my name that he spoke, I heard a volume of scolding and disappointment. After traveling some distance from the stadium to the car, I felt a fury inside of me. Yet, I knew it wasn’t just the outcome of the game that caused it. It was because in my moment of allowing the sickening feeling of loss get the best of me, I had reverted to acting no different than the people I observed 10 years prior. I was the classless one. Noted.
Winning and losing can show the same faces and fall victim to rancid emotions. No doubt, we’ve all seen it, experienced it, or endured it… maybe not thru football (which I’m sure seems a foolish forum to some), but we know both ends of the spectrum. I’m guilty today of saying “I hate Ohio State,” any time I see or hear the name, but I don’t hate the people who love that school. I don’t even really hate the school - I dislike the memory I have of the one time I was there. But I don’t think Ohio State fans are foolish or ignorant for having the loyalty they do. I can say the same for Bama fans, too. They like their schools. And I like LSU. But I admit the loyalty among college football fans and their chosen schools is pretty intense at times. Because it’s rooted in passion, in emotional and generational connections, in loyalty, in victories and losses and all the things in between. Dare I say it - it’s in our blood. And sometimes, when you come across those fans who support a different school than you do, well, you just can’t worry about them.
GEAUX TIGERS!!