OMAHA, Neb. — The original plan for today’s sermon, hatched with a bit of a snicker, was to taunt you all with sordid tales of crisp air in the mid-70s, suspended humidity and that, dadgummit, I forgot to pack a windbreaker for just such a not-so-uncommon development up here.

No snow flurries, generally, and you can skip the ear muffs, but it’s always a nice respite from the South in June.

That’s the Omaha I know and love.

Then I got off the plane. 

Clicked my heels in anticipation. You know, not in Louisiana anymore. Ready to take that deep, refreshing breath, frolic among the spring daisies and fresh lilacs and …

Oh. My. Gosh.

It was a … furnace. An absolute cauldron. Almost choked. Sweltering. Outside the terminal, sidewalks were melting. The famous corn was popping right out of its husk. 

“Been like this for a week or more,” the sweaty policeman at the curb said.

Wait, Omaha! Please! Don’t be like this. It’s not becoming of you.

Pigeons were teetering.

I’m telling you, it’s got to be well into the 90s, I’m guessing, with stifling humidity that would be right at home in south Louisiana. It’s that deep, suffocating stuff you almost have to claw your way through.

Can two-ton mosquitoes be far behind?

This is surreal.

Omaha, it seems, has always gone out of its way to make Louisiana feel right at home, LSU in particular, for the city has always had a deep, abiding love affair with the Tigers, mostly the nuttier branch of their fandom.

Nobody has ever properly explained it, although learned sociologists have tried to crack the case for years. But it’s real and it’s heartwarming. It just kind of happened early on among the Tigers’ now 18 trips here. It kept blossoming and the rest of the Southeastern Conference will surely never understand it. Most of them have far less enthusiastic views of traveling Tigers (invading marauders) intruding on their own turf.

Maybe it shouldn’t be over-analyzed …

But this is a little much.

Omaha people really are some of the nicest, most accommodating in the world. Perhaps they really are going all out to make LSU feel at home.

But they jumped the shark.

The usual respite from a Louisiana summer is one reason why so many LSU fans trek up here even on years when the Tigers themselves lose their way. They’re not totally crazy.

Fortunately, they do believe in air conditioning up there, even when they don’t need it.

But right now all the windows are fogged up like the beer coolers in a convenience store.

Don’t get me wrong — we appreciate the effort. Really, we do.

But it will be just fine with me if the Omaha weather starts acting like Nebraska again anytime now, like real soon.

Preferably today.

But, you know, maybe that’s not all bad for LSU.

OK, it’s admittedly a stretch.

But the only visit I can remember that compares to this brutal heat was 2009.

Now, that was an unseasonable scorcher, unlike any other year that I’ve ever been here.

It was only for the last couple of days of that CWS fortnight, but those were, in fact, the scorching days that LSU was beating Texas to win the last of its six national championships up here.

Omaha approved. Omaha always does when LSU is excelling. It’s why Skip Bertman is royalty in these parts. Keeps the tailgating going in chanky-chank, two-step overdrive, and the natives are happy to join along and sample the strange and unfathomable delicacies that come off those monster fire pits.

Occasionally, a crawfish boil makes its way this far north.

The Omaha people love them. They need assistance in peeling the things, but they love them. 

Still, there’s no need to import weather that feels like you jumped in the boiler pot.

Or maybe Omaha is paying homage to LSU being the hottest team in the country, winners of 16 straight.

Another stretch.

I hear there’s even some rain possible today, which, after the last two weekends would really make LSU feel at home.

I’m guessing, however, that the Tigers would be more than willing to take a stab at winning without a tarp pull.

But the weekend, when the games start, looks good to go.

So there’s that.