Wow! What a game! I had to run errands in the early afternoon, so color me surprised when I walked in the house to find LSU ahead at the start of the second quarter. My superfan husband, Matt began talking fast with a high-pitched voice and attempting to carry an impossible number of grocery bags into the house during the commercial break. I “offered” to help, but I was having too much fun watching him try to bring in three pumpkins, an insulated freezer tote, and a dozen eggs at one time to actually follow through.
The majority of the second quarter consisted of me unloading groceries while my kids asked me no less than 100 times when we were going to decorate the pumpkins and Matt yelling updates from the living room so he could feel like he was being helpful. I finally settled into the couch during the third quarter after I painstakingly helped four and six year-olds glue tiny felt pieces to a pumpkin. (Yes, it is as nightmarish as it sounds.) Matt was still in his superfan position next to, not in, the recliner, because nobody beats the #2 team in the country sitting down. After throwing out his elbow while fist pumping the air, he looked over his shoulder and said, “Make sure you remind everyone in your post next week that I knew Georgia was soft.” Consider it done, babe.
I tried to get the girls to take their bath for the last quarter of the game, so Matt could continue his superfan nonsense without any distractions. My oldest agreed, but the twins weren’t interested. When I told her we would just wait until the game was over, she was not happy. “Fine, I’m not cheering for LSU. I am cheering for Alabama,” she said in retaliation. “Really? Well, maybe GiGi has a room you can stay in at her house,” Matt said laughing. Then, my four year-old exclaimed, “If you cheer for Alabama, you can’t live in this house!” So, there it is, folks. These are the kinds of threats that get thrown around in an LSU football superfan household. Again, if you’re worried that Matt wasn’t able to concentrate enough to give you this week’s three things, you can find peace in knowing that he has already re-watched the entire game and is prepared to do just that.
Last weekend’s game was great, but LSU needs to improve in the red zone.
New phrase of the day alert! The “red zone” is the area of the field from the 20 yard line and the goal line that stands between the team with the ball and a touchdown. It’s harder to score in the red zone, because the amount of space the defense has to defend is smaller. You could compare it to the “witching hour,” the time between dinner and bedtime for parents. Because of its proximity to what your children perceive as a prison sentence and what you perceive as freedom, those few hours are excruciatingly difficult. Because of LSU’s difficulties in the red zone, they’ve had to rely on the kicker to get points on the board. But superfans know that LSU is going to need touchdowns, not field goals to beat a team like Alabama.
It’s time to give Coach Orgeron the credit he deserves.
Going into the eighth week, I think all superfans are in agreement on this one. The team seems to be well coached and well prepared. Not only that, but the way LSU was able to bounce back after last weekend’s loss was impressive. For me, personally (yes, I actually have a view on LSU football occasionally), watching LSU go for it on fourth down multiple times instead of punting reminded me of the year Les Miles did the same and earned himself the title of “Mad Hatter.” It shows confidence and a little bit of crazy which tends to throw the other team off their game. It’s a very effective parenting strategy as well. My kids know that I am confident in my ability to shut down nonsense and will randomly lose my sh**, so they tend to err on the side of caution. LSU will definitely need that we-might-be-crazy-edge this week playing against Mississippi State’s defense.
There is a possible fashion emergency looming on the horizon.
Rumor has it that a costume change might happen this weekend, and the team will be playing in different uniforms. Matt showed me a fully-staged mock up of a white on white uniform with a shiny purple helmet, but then said that it wasn’t official. Not official? Whose job is it to style fake photo shoots with fake uniforms in order to tease superfans? Because, I want in. Can you imagine the hysteria if I released a photo of a bedazzled jersey with a boat neck and flutter sleeves? I could have so much fun with this. My superfan hubby is not feeling the new costumes (my favorite way to mess with football superfans: call the uniforms costumes … repeatedly) and looked like he might pass out when I commented that the helmets look like they have some swirly glitter streaks on them. And, don’t get him started on the font for the numbers on the jersey. “Look at that number 8!” Oh, the humanity!
We are in the home stretch, and it hasn’t been too bad this year. You have to admit that all this winning is definitely helping the moods in superfan households. I’ll be at the stadium this weekend with my superfan, but I’m not telling you where I sit. I’ve seen that panorama floating around Facebook. I don’t need a random shot of me stuffing my face with nachos going viral.
