You are: Texas A&M coach Kevin Sumlin
You thought you understood hostile environments. Then, on the bus ride to the Tiger Stadium on Nov. 23, you saw the exposed buttocks of 43 different Louisiana residents. Once inside, you saw a live tiger's cage parked by the visitors' tunnel. Once the game started, you couldn't hear a thing.
You dealt with that mess your quarterback made this offseason, and you coached this team past Alabama. You dropped a game you shouldn't have in Oxford on Oct. 12, but hell, you probably shouldn't have won the game in Oxford last year. It all balances out.
Besides, you probably should have beaten LSU last year. You lost by five, and your kicker missed two fourth-quarter field goals. The Tigers lost so much to the NFL, so these guys shouldn't be as good as the ones who came to Kyle Field last year. But holy smokes. This place. It feels like walking into a fire.
Your quarterback doesn't seem bothered. He thrives on this stuff. He leads you on three quick touchdown drives before their defense adjusts and starts shutting down your offense. Even though they've got a new offensive coordinator, they still don't play out of a hole very well. That's what tripped them up against Georgia and Alabama.
Still, they mount two long drives, eating most of the third quarter and some of the fourth. It's 21-14. After you go three and out one last time, they take the ball. They batter you with their backs and finally punch in the tying touchdown. Or at least it should be the tying touchdown. Why aren't they sending out the kicking team? They should be playing for overtime at home, right?
As the offense breaks the huddle and quarterback Zach Mettenberger settles under center, you look across the field. There he is, that man in the hat. He reaches down, grabs a few blades of grass and shoves them in his mouth. Then he looks at you and winks.
If Texas A&M stops LSU's two-point conversion attempt, click here.
If LSU completes the two-point conversion, click here.