Graduation admiration from a damn-proud LSU dad

Thirteen years ago, I wrote a column to express my admiration for the Texas A&M ring and what it represents.

That admiration continues today. Had I attended A&M and earned a ring, I would’ve been damn proud to wear it.

Alas, I knew I’d never wear the ring. However, I hoped that someday I’d purchase one for my then nine-year-old son, Quinn.

I thought it was inevitable.

When I started working at TexAgs in 2012, Quinn adopted the Aggies as his favorite team.

His first college football game was A&M’s blowout of South Carolina State in 2012.

He idolized Johnny Manziel. He loved Ben Malena. He got his picture taken with Ryan Swope and Spencer Nealy.

However, his fandom wasn’t always positive. In November of that year, he was reprimanded for taunting his third-grade teacher. Turns out Mrs. McAllister was an Alabama grad.

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Years later, Quinn served three seasons as a Texas A&M basketball ball boy.

It was assumed he’d eventually attend Texas A&M.

But ensuing years brought change. In just over a year, he transformed from a pudgy 5-foot-10 freshman to a muscular 6-foot-5 junior.

His sense of sarcasm grew, too.

Once, I could do no wrong in his eyes. During a heartfelt discussion, I warned him that someday he’d ignore my advice and think I didn’t know anything.

His response: “Yeah, Dad. Today’s the day.”

Wise ass.

By the time Quinn graduated from College Station High School, he had no plans to attend A&M. He was eager to experience life elsewhere.

Of course, I objected. Staying close to home would be a wiser decision.

Alas, my wife, Irma, disagreed. She’d left Los Fresnos to attend Cal-Berkeley. She encouraged his wanderlust.

Staying home, though, would be cheaper. No out-of-state tuition. My argument fell on deaf ears.

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He applied to several Southeastern Conference schools. Acceptance letters and scholarship offers came rolling in.

Arkansas made sense. Texas residents were not charged out-of-state tuition. He again ignored my advice. He didn’t even apply there.

Tennessee’s tuition was too expensive. So, too, were Georgia and Florida.

However, Mississippi State offered a scholarship package that — along with the money his mother and I had saved for his education — would enable him to, at least theoretically, finish college with no debt.

He reluctantly agreed to go there. But about an hour later, he approached me in the kitchen.

“Dad,” he said, “I don’t want to go to Mississippi State.”

I stared sternly into my son’s eyes.

“Quinn,” I said, “I’ve been to every town in the SEC. I’ve been to Starkville on numerous occasions. I cannot offer a rebuttal.”

LSU offered a generous scholarship package. So, the family visited Baton Rouge. During lunch at Elsie’s Plate & Pie, he announced his decision to attend LSU.

The wife immediately went shopping for LSU gear. Not me. I swore never to wear purple and gold until he graduates.

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I was immensely proud and totally disgusted. I was even more disgusted when Quinn joined a fraternity.

Turns out those ATO frat boys weren’t so bad.

About a dozen of them converged on my house in 2022 for the LSU-A&M football game.

They warmed up for the game by consuming alarming amounts of Fireball, Busch Apple and Michelob Ultra and talking trash to me.

LSU had already won the SEC West. They asked if I thought a win over Georgia in the SEC Championship Game would get LSU into the College Football Playoff.

“You still have to beat A&M,” I said.

Eyes rolled. Laughter followed. They reminded me that A&M was 4-7. LSU was ranked fifth and had beaten Alabama. The mere suggestion of an A&M win was preposterous.

“No SEC road game can be taken for granted,” I warned. “A&M has talent. If you think LSU can just show up and win, you may be disappointed.”

Quinn interjected: “Guys, you’ll have to excuse my father. He’s senile.”

Wise ass.

As you know, Devon Achane rushed for 215 yards and two touchdowns in a 38-23 A&M victory. I planned to gloat heavily, but they were all so broken. Instead, I urged them to just focus on winning the SEC championship.

Of course, LSU did not.

The next year, the game was in Baton Rouge. I visited the frat house before the A&M-LSU game. The frat rats knew I was a Heisman Trophy voter. They cross-examined me on how I might vote.

LSU quarterback Jayden Daniels, of course.

From there, I seemed to gain favor with them and some of their parents.

One father, a Texas alum, once approached Quinn to say: “I know who your dad is. He’s OK, but I hate that Liucci guy.”

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They didn’t hate me, but they sure liked to taunt me.

Like last spring, before A&M faced LSU in the SEC Baseball Tournament.

The frat boys bragged about how LSU’s powerful lineup would abuse A&M’s pitchers.

I retorted: “Well, if A&M falls behind, they could just bring in Marcel Reed.”

A chorus of groans followed. Apparently, the memory of Reed coming off the sideline to lead A&M to another 38-23 football victory earlier that year was still painful.

But it probably wasn’t nearly as painful as A&M’s 49-25 drubbing of LSU at Death Valley last season.

Quinn avoided me that night. He just sent a series of vulgar text messages expressing his intense hatred of Brian Kelly.

I laughed. A lot. I texted that A&M was 3-1 vs. LSU with Quinn as a student. Rich Aggies, I suggested, might chip in to pay him to stay for grad school.

That’s not in his plan. He starts his career in August in Phoenix.

First, though, he graduates on Friday night with a degree in finance.

He’ll be the first Buchanan in my line to earn a college degree. I didn’t attend college. Neither did my brother, sister, father nor mother. Nor did my grandparents.

I’m immensely proud and not even a little bit disgusted.

Sure, I would have rather spent a few thousand dollars on an A&M class ring. Instead, I bought a $25 purple-and-gold T-shirt that says “LSU dad.”

I’ll be damned proud to wear it.