I've tried my hardest the past two days at HTF to avoid any media that belittles Saturday's win-- we frickin' won at the eighth-ranked team's stadium-- but it's getting more and more difficult. For every sentence recounting JaMarcus's game-winning touchdown, there's one right after mentioning that the pass wasn't even intended for Early Doucet.
It's no secret that I enjoy playing JaMaicus's Advocate to anyone (readers, my dad, Junckie), and Saturday might have been the start of a less-enthusiastic chapter in the story of Our Boy from Mobile. But that's a column later this week. I'm enjoying this top-10 road win, the second in as many years for Miles. Saban couldn't even get one.
In September, we faced a less talented but more mature Auburn squad on the road, playing a nearly perfect defensive game while realizing the growing pains of a complete running game transition. It had become the norm last year to expect mental and physical toughness in every big game, especially on the road. When the final score was less than positive, we cited as many as six controversial calls that may have affected the outcome.
It may take a few viewings to notice the weak photoshop in the background. Junckie's fingerprints are all over it.
In October, we travelled to then-sixth-ranked Florida, a team just finally filling itself out on offense. It was certainly a dream matchup for the Tigers, as Florida's secondary was suspect even to quarterbacks like John Parker Wilson of Alabama. JR had just strung together the best two-game stretch of his career. Several prognosticators noted that LSU, with similar toughness and execution displayed at Auburn, was the odds-on favorite. In a completely different fashion, we unraveled with five turnovers for the second year in a row against Florida. Even more stinging than the actual turnovers themselves, our lack of maturity and toughness to overcome mistakes became apparent.
November's trip to Tennessee marked a last-chance opportunity for the Tigers to establish an identity other than one involving the hollow destruction of bottom-fifty teams at home. It also represented "redemption" for Les Miles, as the decline of qualities like sharpness and maturity, staples of the Saban era, started to become evident. Otherwise, we were headed for an 8-4 record and the Outback Bowl, a season as lifeless as Pelini's grey sweatshirt.
Somehow, Saturday's game featured these three themes in one sixty-minute period. It was clear from the first few opening series for each team that the Tigers had a distinct talent advantage. We controlled the line throughout the entire game, limiting a usually uber-consistent running game to 62 yards. Our receivers were able to get free from coverage with apparent ease, although Buster and Bowe seemed to revert back to dropping the football (sell LASIK stock). The running game produced more yards (231) than the Auburn and Florida games combined.
I survived the JaMarcus Era, and all I have are about 65 images of touchdowns with receivers on the ground.
But then sure enough, turnovers at key positions on the field kept the less-talented home team in the game. Russell threw one of the worst passes of his career for a 31-yard gift to the defense, digging the second-half hole to ten. A usually sure-handed Bowe left the ball exposed during a fourth-quarter drive, essentially ending a chance to put the game away while setting up Tennessee's touchdown on the next play. A game in which we dominated time of possession (41 minutes to 19 minutes) and yards of offense (478 to 248) was entirely too close due to four turnovers.
Controversy also came when Tennessee's special teams appeared to clearly touch the ball on a punt dying in the endzone, allowing LSU defenders to scoop the ball up for a timely touchdown that would have given the Tigers a 14-7 lead in the second quarter. The punt was called a touchback on the field, and, indisputable evidence or not, SEC officials haven't developed the cajones to overturn major calls in home stadiums.
Engineer game-winning drive on road versus top-ten team. Pound chest with fist. Insert mouthpiece into facemask. I love you.
But we overcame everything, with JaMarcus engineering three drives-- two of them with ease-- when down by three or more. And, thinking back to last year as well, our identity might as well be this: we'll win big games about half the time, and when we do, we'll be sure to make it as difficult as humanly possible.
Can we give some credit to Jimbo Fisher here? Hey, Jimbo, we're going to need three drives that span the length of the field, one of which needs to go eighty yards to win the game.... not a problem. Hell, I'm impressed he had enough plays to keep the offense on the field for forty-one minutes (81 offensive plays total). Also, I don't think any team in the history of football has taken such a strong defense for granted this much; can you imagine how paced off Dorsey and Co. must have been when Bowe fumbled that ball at midfield? Oh, about enough to warrant a 54-yard touchdown pass on three DBs.
I was giddy Saturday night (8 shots of Bacardi Limon? Chili dog?), yes, because we won a big game on the road, but I'm pretty sure I still recognized the greater significance after countless Lone Stars. Saturday was like a final exam, a makeup of sorts, for us to prove that we're becoming tougher, more poised, and more mature-- enough to handle three direct scores off turnovers in a hostile stadium. That's all I really care about. Sometimes even the less-riveting seasons feature something pretty special.
Which LSU player is the football version of Bacardi Limon? I'm thinking Luke Sanders. Nah, it has to be Gaudet.
Also, we won the coin toss. (1/2)^9 probability, or 1/512. Why am I the only one talking about this? Math... football... this is the opportunity HTF has been waiting for.
- P.T.
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