Civil rivalry on the surface, seething with disdain under it
Published 8:30 am Monday, June 8, 2015
Y’all play nice, now.
Really, that seems to be the overriding concern as LSU and UL-Lafayette prepare to draw swords on Skip Bertman Field tonight while their two archenemy fan bases try to coexist without any undue bloodshed in Alex Box Stadium.
Why this would be an issue isn’t quite so clear, other than the fact that the two fan bases pretty well despise each other and make no bones about same.
Trending
It’s only partially about winning two out of three and advancing to the College World Series in Omaha.
It’s not so much bragging rights.
It’s gloating rights.
There’s a subtle difference there, and it does put the possibility of hard feelings in play.
But … really?
Are they expecting cannon fire across the Atchafalaya?
Trending
You’d think the state police were standing by on Defcon 2 alert.
It could be interesting, for sure.
How many other super regionals are there where the biggest question among fans will be how the ESPN2 television announcers address the Ragin’ Cajuns in formal conversation.
Will it be “Louisiana” — if so, mark one up for the Cajuns, high-five big time — or will it be “UL-Lafayette” or “ULL” or even the LSU-preferred “UL’ll Laugh.”
Trust me, some fans will be keeping score on this pressing issue alone.
You’d think it was more important than the score.
The whole name thing probably shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it probably annoys the rest of this state far more than it should. The high road would be better to just ignore the issue.
But suddenly you’d think they’re going to activate the National Guard and dispatch it to The Box.
The fears all date back, best I can tell, to a 2002 doubleheader between the two when only slightly less was on the line that, in retrospect, is being remembered as bloodier than the Battle of Bull Run.
In truth, it was probably about as chippy of an extended day at the ballpark as I can remember.
It was the championship round of the regional, and the Cajuns had beaten LSU earlier in the weekend, so the Tigers had that tricky chore that Sunday of needing to beat ULL twice in the same day.
They did just that, by identical 12-2 scores, and, yes, there were hard feelings the entire time, probably less so in the second game after umpires put a symbolic foot down to all the foolishness.
There was a lot of finger-pointing afterward. But while neither side seemed to be auditioning for a chapter in “Profiles in Sportsmanship,” for all the posturing and cage-rattling, there were no actual casualties that day.
ULL might have had the last laugh. It took something out of the Tigers. They went to Houston the next weekend to play Rice in the super regional and didn’t score a run in two games — lost 6-0 and 3-0.
But in a huge overreaction, both schools (more LSU, I always suspected) decided they needed to cool it and not play for a few years.
It was seven years, to be exact, before it was deemed the smoke had sufficiently cleared and that no civilians would be put in harm’s way for a nine-inning baseball game.
They’ve played pretty regularly ever since, completely without incident.
Yet 2002 — more than a dozen years ago — still looms large.
Nobody seems to remember the year 2000, when both were in Omaha for the CWS.
And not just “in Omaha.”
They were in separate brackets and never played each other in what eventually led to the last of Skip Bertman’s five national championships.
The NCAA tempted fate and, you’d think, risked rack and run by assigning them to quarter in the same Omaha hotel (though it was well away from the major population centers).
Lo and behold, that hotel is still standing to this very day.
In fact, not only did the two teams get along just fine during frequent lobby chitchat, both sets of fans seem just fine with each other, even with a very convenient bar just off the lobby. The more Omaha-experienced Tigers fans even seemed to be giving them restaurant tips and whatnot, none of which apparently led to dead-end gravel roads.
So it’s doable. Been done.
On Friday the Lafayette newspaper ran a side-by-side list of Eight Things LSU/ULL Fans Want You to Know About Them.
Save for a few unique traditions, they were basically identical, each touching hard on their particular penchant for power tailgating and the usual frivolity and hijinks at the old ball yard.
Funny, even the most ardent USL-hating McNeese fan has to swallow hard and admit that Cajuns coach Tony Robichaux is a class act (no matter the company he keeps).
LSU’s Paul Mainieri has never had anything but kind words about the Cajuns either.
“It is college sports,” Mainieri said. “It’s not war.
“Their team plays with class and our team is going over there to play with class,” Robichaux said. “If it gets to the edge of the envelope, I know Paul will take care of his kids and I will take care of mine.
“We want to make the state of Louisiana proud.”
And it should be.
What this quirky state really should be is happy that there are two teams just two wins from the college baseball mecca, and that Louisiana is guaranteed to have at least one representative for the festivities in Omaha.
What ought to be happening is that two fan bases could appreciate the other’s needs and wants.
One team is going to win, one is going to lose. But wouldn’t it be nice if the fans could just shake hands when it’s all over, with the disappointed losing side wishing the victors well and vowing to pull for them all the way through to the national championship after they get to Omaha?
Sure it would.
Not that I expect that to happen.
Not in a million years.
Scooter Hobbs covers LSU athletics. Email him at shobbs@americanpress.com
Alex Box Stadium at LSU. (Associated Press)