On August 24, 2005, like everyone else in the world, Louisiana and her people were busy about the business of planning their future on August 24, 2005, planning for the next weekend, planning for the next day.

But hundreds of miles east of Louisiana, a storm was brewing. At 10 am CDT on this date 21 years ago, Tropical Depression Twelve officially became Tropical Storm Katrina. Five days later, it would become something so incomprehensible that people still talk about it.

So big, of course, that football wasn’t even important at the time. New Orleans football fans will remember losing the Saints. LSU football fans will remember the Arizona State game being moved to Tempe and the epic second half collapse at home to Tennessee.

Football still isn’t all that important, but it does provide a small illustration of our point today….

We really know neither the day nor the hour when something incomprehensible will arrive.

Business As Usual

On August 24, 2005, new LSU head coach Les Miles appeared for the first edition of The Les Miles Show at Walk-On’s in Baton Rouge alongside longtime radio voice Jim Hawthorne. The two were discussing Miles and the team’s preparations for the opener, a home date with North Texas on September 3.

By Monday, everything they had discussed about the opener would prove useless. Katrina struck Louisiana on August 29. LSU’s athletic buildings took on purposes nobody could’ve imagined for them five days earlier. The Carl Maddox Field House became a special-needs shelter. The PMAC became a medical triage center. Black Hawk and Chinook helicopters landed inside Bernie Moore Track Stadium. Washers once used for the sweat and grime of football and basketball uniforms were used to clean sheets and towels for storm victims.

The North Texas game of course was postponed, while the No. 5 Tigers played their first “home” game at No. 15 Arizona State and had rallied to escape with a 35-31 win when JaMarcus Russell hit Early Doucet for a remarkable 39-yard touchdown with just over a minute left in the game. You may remember Russell lofting the ball toward the left corner of the end zone, where Doucet leapt between two defenders and somehow came down with it.

Two weeks later, after Hurricane Rita moved LSU’s home opener against Tennessee to Monday night, the Tigers blew a 21-point lead and lost 30-27 in overtime.

The score on the board helps illustrate our point, though the point itself reaches far beyond football.

Final Hour

Planning for tomorrow is a must for LSU football and life in general. Parents have to make sure there’s a schedule to keep order in the home for children. Groups ranging from retreat teams to corporations have to plan well in advance if the event is to go well. Everyone knows this. We’d all be drifting aimlessly and foolishly from one thing to the next without paying attention to the calendar.

But August 24, 2005 tells us to carry that necessary planning with some humility. Tomorrow must be planned for, but it is neither promised nor our final end. Everyone inside the LSU football program and across Louisiana was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing that Wednesday. That same day, hundreds of miles away, a monster was receiving its name.

On Wednesday, LSU had North Texas circled on its calendar. By Monday, helicopters were landing at Bernie Moore and the PMAC was a hospital.

Make the plan, then, and live accordingly. Laissez les bons temps rouler, right? But may we remember that the good times are never promised to last, and tomorrow has never promised a sunny day.

Thank you for reading The Hayride!