By Rick Sarro
In life there are more than a few rites of passage.
Feel free to enter your personal list here. I venture to say it will vary in length and specifics, but I would guess there are many similarities for us born and raised in the South, and in Louisiana in particular.
One of the rites of growing up in the bayou state is undoubtedly experiencing your first LSU football game at Tiger Stadium. Mine was many years ago when I was in my late teens, I went on a whim with some buddies for an inconsequential game that, if memory serves, the Tigers lost.
As they say, we are a product of our environment, and that includes family. (Duh … I knew I had to state the obvious for the record). With both my mother and father coming from Chicago, they brought down a love and knowledge (mostly Pop’s) of professional sports … Bears, Cubs and the fight game (boxing).
At that time, Chicago wasn’t a mecca of college sports. Still isn’t, really.
The pros ruled the Windy City. And that influence held strong as my father moved to South Louisiana during the oil boom of the 1950s. It didn’t take long (in 1967, to be exact) for him to claim the New Orleans Saints as his team. And he ingrained that passion and, yes, suffering into us kids at an early age.
So, one of my true rites of passage as a youngster was going to my first Saints game with my dad at old Tulane Stadium. It was the team’s inaugural season; its third game — a contest against the Cleveland Browns on Oct. 1. It was my first time in the big city of New Orleans. Since I was only 9, I was in awe of the spectacle of 77,000-plus people crammed into one place.
The Saints lost 42-7, but the final score didn’t much matter to me. (It was different for Dad of course). I got to see my early heroes: quarterback Billy Kilmer, running back Jimmy Taylor and receiver Danny Abramowicz. I got a Saints pennant for my wall and learned how to avoid tripping on beer cans as I went up and down those old stadium rows.
Fast forward to the present day and my decision that this would be the season; that the time had come for my 7- and 9-year-old sons to see what they’ve been wondering and hearing about.
The time was now for their first trip to Death Valley.
As a result of the coincidence of a cleared weekend and schedules, we circled the showdown with the then third-ranked Ole Miss Rebels. It was a Saturday night; a national television event; an SEC West division clash between two old rivals with a long history; and a game on which a spot in this year’s national playoffs hinged (well, for Ole Miss anyway).
I couldn’t have picked a better game for memories to be made. It was the ideal opportunity for a very important rite of passage for two sons. But it wasn’t easy.
Kevin Guidry with the author’s boys on the sidelines
Let me state for the record that whatever study, planning and roadway changes LSU officials did over the off-season to make the pilgrimage by car to Tiger Stadium easier have not worked. I know this doesn’t come as a big shock or revelation to seasoned LSU game-day travelers. But I was hoping against hope.
The back road in from the east was flooded and bumper to bumper. The slow ride in gave me time to issue my dos and don’ts to my eager but naïve Tiger fans. It was the same speech I gave them before their very first Saints game last year. It began with “stay within three feet of Mom and Dad; hold our hands when walking through large, packed crowds; don’t run off and get separated no matter how close you think you are” and “when in doubt of your location, stop and stay put until we find you.”
Now their first Saints game was big for me as a dad as it was for them. It brought back memories of my first game. They were treated with sideline passes that they could use to see the players up close before the kickoff. Having that vantage point from the field of the SuperDome as a mini munchkin was cool enough. But the oldest didn’t understand why he couldn’t catch passes from Drew Brees.
From a parent’s point of view, the boys’ inaugural Saints game was complicated when the late season matchup against division rival Carolina was deemed the weekend’s key match-up and moved from a noon Sunday kickoff to 7:30 prime time on NBC.
Moving from a day to a night game in New Orleans while walking through Champion’s Square wasn’t easy. But all went better than expected, with a surprisingly low level of stress and worry.
While I was getting my mind right for a Saturday night at Tiger Stadium, I knew good and well this game would be so much tougher for us.
Equipped with a parking permit (more valuable than game tickets), we finally parked about two hours before kickoff. It was off to the barricades near the P-Mac to see the Golden Band march its way into the pep rally in the Maravich Center. We met some nice folks from Moss Bluff, of all places; they let the boys squeeze in on the rails.
Once the last drum was beaten and the last baton was spun, it was off to see Mike the Tiger. Mix in any live animal mascot with two young boys and you have a race on your hands. All it took was a simple line from Mom: “Mike the Tiger is right there across the street.”
Like he was shot from a cannon, my 9-year-old Zachary was off and running and out of sight.
My head was turned for a split second as I latched onto 7-year-old Carter and — bam! — my firstborn disappeared in a mass of purple and gold.
It was silly of us to assume Zachary ran straight toward Mike’s compound. No. Once there, he shot off in several different directions in search of the reclusive Bengal tiger. After 10 minutes of high and low searching, we were at Def Con Red Alert 1.
As I was about to seek out security assistance, Zachary came strolling up, complaining that Mike wouldn’t come out and play. Needless to say, he got an earful and threats that we would pack it in if he pulled that stunt again.
By this time, the brother-in-law from Bossier City and his 8-year-old, Jeff, Jr., joined us as we made our way toward our gate. With 45 minutes till kickoff, I got an unexpected call from my friend, TV show co-host and former LSU star Kevin Guidry. Again, you veteran LSU fans know there is little to no cell reception once near the stadium. A total of 150,000 fans all using cell phones for calls or Facebook will jam up a Pentagon-worthy network, much less Sprint or Verizon.
How Guidry’s call got through on the first attempt is beyond me. But there he was on the call, bellowing that I should get to Gate 10 with the boys so they can walk the sidelines with their Uncle Kevin.
The author and his sons
I got them on the Saints sidelines. But I don’t have the connections and clout that Guidry has at LSU. So I told him to give me 10 minutes and have the gate ready.
Melanie and I had Carter by the hand, but we soon discovered that Zachary, his Uncle Jeff and Jeff, Jr., were nowhere to be seen.
I was on the clock to give the three boys, wife and brother-in-law (a rabid LSU fan) lasting memories of sideline views and photo-ops. But first we had to find them.
I sent him and Carter ahead to Gate 10 with tickets in hand. So there I was with no cell service on yet another manic search.
Luck would have it that Jeff and Little Jeff had tickets in the same section as we did. So they eventually emerged from the masses at Gate 10. I kept my cool as the brother-in-law said we must have moved — not them — as the two cousins went to the side to throw their football.
Mistake No. 1 was to let a 9-year-old take a football into a stadium with 103,000-plus fans. His throws are bound to bounce off someone’s head.
I corralled the posse up at field level and watched as Guidry bounded over, then parted the double gates as if they were was the Red Sea.
It was homecoming, so the sidelines and field were at capacity. It seemed that the players barely had enough room to warm up.
Zachary watched former Barbe star Trey Quinn run sprints; Mom struggled to keep Carter from actually running onto the field; and I glanced back at brother-in-law Jeff, who appeared to be six inches off the hallowed turf, as if he were already walking in Heaven.
In some ways he was.
The passions of college football, especially LSU, are rooted to the core. It’s a culture and way of life in Louisiana, and across the deep South of Texas, Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia. The tradition, pageantry and legacies are storied, rich and real. It’s unlike anything else in sports.
LSU does it like no other on a Saturday night in Death Valley.
Kevin scooped up Carter and tossed him on his shoulders, while saying, “get your cameras ready while I get Coach Les over.” With cameras in hand and clicking away, Les Miles, who had a heavy heart after the passing of his 91-year-old mother the day before, took the time to come over while he was headed toward the locker room. He gave Carter a high five and a pat on the head for good luck.
Think what you will of Les Miles as a head coach and game strategist — most of those opinions are wrong — but know that he’s a good man and a gentleman.
Guidry was in high search for former Tigers star Odell Beckham, Jr., now with the New York Giants, who was at the game because of a bye week in his NFL schedule. It would have been a great photo, but to no avail. Zachary was more interested in studying the kicks and dance moves of several Golden Girls.
I have the pictures to prove it.
After 20 minutes of sideline bliss, we made our way to section 304, row 54, for a fun and exciting game. At some point in the first quarter, Zachary asked if he could run and play on the field after the game as he does at McNeese games.
My obvious response was no because LSU has much stricter rules than McNeese. That one was going to come back on me.
At halftime, his Aunt Kara came up and whisked Zach away down to row 10 in section 305. He had a bird’s eye view of a thrilling finish and LSU’s upset victory over Ole Miss.
As the final seconds wound down, neither the fences or security could hold the crowd back as thousands of students and fans stormed the field in celebration. Quinn was body surfing atop the joyous fans when we reached Kara on the lower walkway. “Where are Zachary and John (Kara’s boyfriend),” I asked?
To my amazement she simply pointed to the field and said “out there, somewhere”.
Zachary came running up with his football tucked underarm, eyes ablaze with the biggest smile imaginable for a 9-year-old diehard LSU fan. “Dad, I thought you said we couldn’t go on the field!” he screamed.
He turned around, laughing, jumping and running down the same sideline the legendary Billy Cannon once did when he made that historic 89-yard punt return more than 50 years ago to beat — ironically enough — the third-ranked Ole Miss Rebels.
My emotions began to swell as I watched my son doing what comes so easily for him — having fun and enjoying the moment.
There will be other rites of passage for Zachary and Carter, but this one in particular will be remembered, cherished and relived between father and sons.
Get Rick Sarro’s perspectives on sports on Soundoff 60, which airs Monday through Sunday nights at 9 pm on Suddenlink Channel 60 and Saturday and Sunday mornings at 10 am as well.
Comments are closed.