THE BAYOU ROLLERCOASTER: LOOKING BACK ON ED ORGERON’S TURBULENT LSU TENURE.

There was a time not long ago when Ed Orgeron stood on top of the college football world, cigar in hand, basking in the glory of a perfect season that will forever be remembered as one of the greatest in the sport’s history. That was the 2019 LSU Tigers, and Orgeron’s name was etched into lore as the charismatic, gravel-voiced Cajun who brought the Tigers back to national prominence. Yet just two years later, he was out of a job, and his sudden fall from grace stunned a fanbase that once embraced him as their own. The rise and fall of Ed Orgeron at LSU was nothing short of a rollercoaster—thrilling, unpredictable, and ultimately too unstable to sustain.

Orgeron’s tenure in Baton Rouge was always unconventional. Hired as interim head coach in 2016 after the firing of Les Miles, he was initially seen as a stopgap rather than a long-term solution. Despite a 6–2 record to close out the season and a visible emotional connection with his players, there was skepticism. Orgeron had already flamed out as a head coach at Ole Miss, and his brash, intense style didn’t fit the mold of the polished CEO-type many SEC programs were seeking. But LSU took the gamble. They made Orgeron the permanent head coach in November 2016, and almost immediately, the rollercoaster began.

The 2017 season, Orgeron’s first full year at the helm, had its bumps. LSU finished 9–4, including a shocking home loss to Troy that shook the fanbase’s confidence. Critics questioned whether Orgeron had the strategic mind to lead a major program, or if his high-octane energy masked deeper shortcomings. But quietly, LSU began laying the groundwork for something greater. Orgeron revamped the program’s recruiting, brought in new strength and conditioning standards, and slowly assembled the pieces for what would become a historically dominant team.

Then came 2018, a season that began to change perceptions. The Tigers went 10–3, capped by a Fiesta Bowl win over UCF that ended the Knights’ 25-game winning streak. Joe Burrow, a transfer quarterback from Ohio State, began to show flashes of brilliance. More importantly, Orgeron showed humility—something not often associated with him in his early coaching days. He admitted to mistakes, delegated responsibilities, and leaned on his assistants. That year, he hired Joe Brady, a young offensive assistant from the New Orleans Saints, as passing game coordinator. It would be a move that changed LSU football forever.

The 2019 season was magical. Behind Burrow, Brady, and offensive coordinator Steve Ensminger, LSU unleashed a record-shattering offense. The Tigers went 15–0, won the SEC Championship, crushed Oklahoma in the playoff, and dominated defending national champion Clemson in the title game. Burrow threw for 5,671 yards and 60 touchdowns, winning the Heisman Trophy by a landslide. The offense became legendary, producing future NFL stars like Ja’Marr Chase, Justin Jefferson, Clyde Edwards-Helaire, and Terrace Marshall Jr.

But it wasn’t just the players or the scheme—it was the vibe. LSU football felt alive again, raw and proud. Orgeron, a Louisiana native from the bayou town of Larose, became the embodiment of the program’s spirit. His “Geaux Tigers” drawl became a national meme, and his emotional connection with the team made him a beloved figure. He wasn’t just winning; he was winning in a way that felt authentic to LSU.

And yet, even in the midst of triumph, there were early signs that trouble could be on the horizon. After 2019, Brady left for the NFL. Defensive coordinator Dave Aranda took a head coaching job at Baylor. Several players left for the draft. Orgeron was tasked with replacing not only elite talent but elite minds—and the results were underwhelming. In 2020, LSU stumbled to a 5–5 record during the COVID-shortened season, including a 48–11 loss to Auburn that was among the program’s worst defeats in decades. The team looked disorganized, the defense porous, and the coaching staff disconnected.

Orgeron’s staffing decisions began to raise red flags. He hired Bo Pelini, a former LSU defensive coordinator with a fiery temperament but an outdated scheme, to run the defense. The move backfired spectacularly. LSU gave up an average of 34.9 points per game and showed little adjustment over the course of the season. Worse still, internal issues began to leak out. Reports surfaced that Orgeron had become less hands-on, more enamored with the perks of fame, and had allowed discipline within the program to erode.

Then came 2021, the season that sealed his fate. Despite high hopes and a reloaded roster, LSU again underperformed. The Tigers finished 6–6 in the regular season, barely qualifying for a bowl. Midway through the year, LSU and Orgeron agreed to part ways at the end of the season, just 21 months after he had hoisted the national championship trophy. The decision was both shocking and, to many, inevitable.

Behind the scenes, LSU leadership had grown frustrated. Reports of off-the-field distractions and unprofessional conduct began to mount. Orgeron’s personal life—now more public following his divorce—became tabloid fodder. There were also allegations involving mishandled Title IX cases that occurred under his watch, which further eroded trust in his leadership. Though Orgeron denied wrongdoing in those cases, the negative attention added weight to an already complicated picture.

When Orgeron exited LSU, it wasn’t with bitterness but with an almost surreal sense of closure. In press conferences, he remained upbeat, joking about getting his \$17 million buyout and spending time on the beach. “I’ll always be a Tiger,” he said, reminding everyone that for all the turmoil, his love for the program never wavered.

The paradox of Ed Orgeron’s LSU tenure is that he was both exactly what the program needed—and exactly what it couldn’t sustain. His unique ability to galvanize a team, to build emotional momentum, was instrumental in creating one of the greatest single seasons in college football history. But the very qualities that made him a great motivator sometimes undermined his consistency. Orgeron thrived in the eye of the storm, but struggled to steer the ship in calm waters.

His rise and fall also illustrate the volatility of modern college football, where even the highest peaks cannot insulate a coach from scrutiny. At many programs, a national championship buys a decade. At LSU, it bought Orgeron less than two years. The program’s expectations, fueled by its rich talent pool and rabid fanbase, demand not just greatness, but sustained greatness. Anything less feels like failure.

And yet, Orgeron’s legacy should not be viewed through a binary lens of success or failure. His 2019 team redefined what college football excellence could look like. The offensive innovation, the player development, the cultural resonance—it was all Orgeron. He built that team. He trusted Burrow, he took a chance on Brady, and he fostered a belief system that allowed that group to soar.

There’s also something to be said about his connection with the players. Time and again, former Tigers have expressed their admiration for Orgeron—not just as a coach, but as a person who genuinely cared. His relatability, his openness, and his Cajun pride resonated with players in a way that few coaches can replicate. For many of them, he wasn’t just a coach—he was family.

In the end, the story of Ed Orgeron at LSU is one of extremes. It’s the story of a local hero who reached the mountaintop in a way no one thought possible, then tumbled back down just as quickly. It’s about a program that embraced passion, energy, and authenticity, but also demanded discipline, strategy, and structure. Orgeron gave LSU its greatest triumph and a hard lesson in the cost of instability.

Looking back now, his time at LSU feels like folklore—larger than life, impossible to predict, unforgettable in its highs and humbling in its lows. He will never be forgotten in Baton Rouge, not just because he brought home a trophy, but because he did it his way, unapologetically and with heart.

The bayou rollercoaster may have thrown Orgeron off in the end, but for one incredible ride, it felt like destiny.