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A Love Letter to LSU Football

A week full of anxiety captured in a single love letter.

Stacy Revere

Dear LSU Football,

It's been one of those weeks. You know what I mean. One of those weeks. Anytime you lose, it results in the type of soul-crushing heart break that would drive more sane folks to simply abandon the habit, seek out a 12-step program and move on. But, losing to Ole MIss induces a truly psychotic reaction, one that results in the type of teeth-gnashing and skin-peeling behavior so as to forsake everything: women, children, and the game itself. "IT'S NOT WORTH IT!" I sheepishly cry for days on end, only to find myself, a week later, situated in front of the television, or at the 50-yard line, right back where we started, positioning myself for inevitable heartbreak again. WHY CAN'T I QUIT YOU, LSU FOOTBALL?

Logically I know, these are things outside of my control. Whether you show up prepared, win or lose, recruit well or miss out on a top player, none of these things can I do anything about. So it shouldn't hurt. "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference," right? More like, SERENITY NOW. Insanity later.

So it's with all these misappropriated emotions, those of which I've spent the week navigating, or circumnavigating, that I attempt to push it all aside and attempt an honest letter to you. You see, in a week shrouded in the furor of "FIRE LES!" sentiments, it's difficult to see exactly why my heart continues to beat for you. I spend a lifetime batting away those who try to tell me you and I aren't meant to be, but in the end, I always return. There's an inexplicable bond there, between you and I, and no, I don't expect anyone else to understand.

But for the good of our relationship, I think we should make some compromises, okay? I hope you know, these come from the best intentions. I'm looking out for you, as much as I am for me, here. Love is a sacrifice. Or at least true love is. So I hope you understand.

Please never lose to Ole Miss again. I know that may be an entirely unrealistic expectation, but it's one I expect you to uphold. Mostly because I cannot bear watching such a debacle again. Quite honestly, I'd rather watch a raccoon comb over a dumpster of human waste than watch you lose to Ole Miss again, and deep down, I know you feel the same way. I know you don't mean to hurt me, but I think it best you realize the extent to which I am scarred from this "misunderstanding."

Please beat Alabama. This one's tough. I know it won't be easy for you. We all wrestle our own demons. But we realize our best selves through our trials and tribulations. So on November 9th, do me a favor, and walk into Bryant-Denny Stadium and let them know that hell is coming with you. You see, I'm a believer in grand gestures, and while I don't expect you to deliver a ring right now, the least you could do is spoil the dreams of our oppressors. I trust you still know how to make me smile.

Please be honest with me. I admit, my first two "compromises" are quite demanding of you. They aren't fair to you. So I tell you what, even if you can't live up to those standards, how about you just make me a promise that you'll do your level best from here on out? Sure, you might lose another game, or two, but don't let it be said that "LSU didn't show up that day." I expect my lover to fight for my honor. So how about you show up, play your ever-living guts out and then, regardless of the result, I can be proud?

Please be fun. You know what, footballs more than winning. Not to go all Nick Saban on you, but sometimes the process really is more important than the result. Yet, I say that, in hopes you realize that I have no desire for you to become win-obsessed, "do the right thing" robots. Get out there and have a good time, why dontcha? A happy you makes a happy me.

Please make memories. These are our golden years. Things have never been better. Try not to get too caught up in what does or doesn't happen. Don't sour on this moment. In 50 years, you shouldn't look back and say, "If only..." but rather "I did."

I love you, LSU Football. If you can just fulfill these five things, I'll be sure to love you forever and ever. My sacrifice to you will be my very heart and soul. My allegiance. My loyalty. My everything. I will pass you to my children and share you with all my friends. If you give to me, I will be sure there is no person I encounter that doesn't understand your greatness. That's a fair deal, right? A few high end expectations of you for all of me?

Aw hell, what am I saying? You know you'll get that anyway.


Paul Crewe