Texas Bowl holds special significance for Charbonnet

While it may be just another bowl game to some, this month's Texas Bowl actually carries quite a bit of significance for me and my family. In fact, the matchup between Texas Tech and LSU connects me to my roots in ways that I didn't expect or realize until I began researching and reflecting on it.

The connections begin in 1954 with the two teams' first meeting, grows into the 1990s where my love for the game developed, reached its limbs into every game I played from my senior year in high school and even into the greatest game in Red Raider football history, and now comes full circle as the teams face off on Dec. 29.

I have always thought trees were incredible creations. Standing tall and strong in the face of changing seasons and time, in triumphs and disasters, always reaching new heights, new space, new growth. Yet no matter how far or high a tree may grow, they stay connected on the deepest level to their roots. Deep within every branch, every leaf and every seed that may fall to go on and create a new tree, is a common thread that bears the mark and resemblance of its origin. Trees are also creations we often take for granted. We run to them when we need shade or protection. We breathe them in every day without even fully realizing or appreciating their life giving presence.

Family is much the same and why the term "family tree" rings so true to me. Somewhere buried deep within the grounds of history are roots that we are all connected to. We will rarely glimpse these roots with our own eyes, but their stories are written on each of our lives. Moreover, families, like trees, provide solidity in an ever-changing world. They provide shelter and comfort when needed most, and unfortunately, are often taken for granted until something causes us to stop and take in their value.

My roots in this country begin in Louisiana. They are buried deep in the piney woods of the north and melded by marriage to the swamps of the south. They are as old as the moss-covered live oaks that string their way throughout the LSU campus, and are certainly as twisted and scarred. Out of these roots spring a family tree that is deep in faith, tight knit, and obsessed with football.

My living connection to these roots begins with a boy in Rayville, La., born in the depths of the great depression to a poor, uneducated family of sharecroppers. But from an early age it was evident there was something different about him. He was born with the relentless drive for something more, for something better, for greatness.

His name was Levi "Chuck" Johns and he was the greatest man I have ever known.

In the fall of 1952, Levi "Chuck" Johns stepped onto the LSU campus as a freshman halfback and defensive back for the Tigers. The Rayville Rocket, as he was known in North Louisiana, was the one of the first of his family to graduate high school, and certainly the first step foot on a college campus as a bona fide student.

With his family and the entire town of Rayville beaming with pride, "Chuck" donned the purple and gold admirably, earning three varsity letters from 1953-55. After playing on the freshman squad in 1953, Johns became a mainstay on all three sides of the ball for the Tigers, recording multiple interceptions in both the 1954 and 1955 seasons, leading the Tigers in rushing 1954 and leading the team in all-purpose yards in 1955.

While he played many great games for the Tigers, there was one game during his junior season where Johns' star shone particularly bright. On Oct. 16, 1954, The Tigers faced off against the 20th-ranked Texas Tech Red Raiders, their first ever meeting against the Matadors from West Texas.

In front of a packed house of 25,000, Johns scored the game's first two touchdowns in the second and third quarters, with LSU taking a 13-0 lead over the visitors. DeWitt T. Weaver's Red Raiders would come storming back on the legs of Lonnie "The Lone Ranger" Graham and Jim Sides to even the score at 13-13 late in the fourth quarter. The Tigers then put together a physical 62-yard drive capped off by Johns' 3-yard touchdown scamper with 49 seconds left to play. This touchdown sealed the unranked Tigers' upset of the Red Raiders by a margin of 20-13.

After his junior season, Johns took a summer job in Lake Charles, La., where he worked full-time and trained in preparation for his senior season at LSU. It was during that summer Chuck met a brown-eyed beauty from nearby Sulphur, La., named Alberta Cain. He was so taken by her that he disregarded new LSU coach Paul Dietzel's no-wife rule and married Ms. Cain three short months later.

In order to keep their surreptitious marriage hidden from his demanding coach, Chuck rented an apartment for his new bride while he continued to live in the athletic dorm. They kept their ruse going for the entire fall semester until one day coach Dietzel nonchalantly, and with a hint of a smile, asked Chuck, "Hey Chuck, how's the wife?" thus ending his senior's charade. Dietzel would later confess to Johns that he knew the whole time.

This is where my LSU and football roots began and my Tiger roots grew deeper still. In the late 1970s, Chuck Johns' daughter, Sheila, met my father, a gregarious New Orleans boy named Craig Charbonnet. They married shortly after graduating from LSU and moved to a small community north of Houston called The Woodlands, where over the next few years, they would welcome four boys to their family.

My earliest memories of sports, and particularly football, revolve around purple and gold. Whether it was watching the likes of Kevin Faulk and Rondell Mealy in the fall or watching the Tigers contend for College World Series championships each summer, LSU was simply a part of life. I remember walking out with my Paw Paw onto the field at Tiger Stadium with my brothers and cousins, staring up at Death Valley in awe. I can still vividly recall crowding around the television at his house, watching the Tigers of the 1990s struggle each season, hoping they would one day break into the elite of the SEC.

You see, being an LSU fan in the 1990s was much like being a Texas Tech fan the past six years, or possibly even worse. Ups and downs, winning seasons and losing seasons, Hail Mary wins and devastating losses, great players and some greater disappointments -- this was the life of an LSU in the days before Nick Saban. Before SEC and national championships. Before BCS bowls and top recruiting classes. No, these were the days of Curley Hallman and back-to-back-to-back losing seasons. Of star in-state players like Brock Berlin snubbing LSU for Steve Spurrier's Florida Gators. Of regular finishes near the bottom of the SEC. But Johns never gave up hope of one day seeing his Tigers compete for titles again.

This is where my love for college football grew, and on Oct. 11, 1997 this love developed into an obsession.

The Tigers were having their best season of the decade and were ranked 20th in the country when the top-ranked Florida Gators came to town. Watching this game was the first time I truly understood the beauty of college football. Though the entire game was spectacular, one play in particular would remain etched in my memory forever. In the early fourth quarter, with the game knotted at 14, LSU defensive back Cedric Donaldson intercepted a Gator pass and returned it thirty yards for a touchdown. The crowd's reaction to that play, the swing of momentum, and the euphoria that came out of seemingly nowhere -- all of it left a mark on me. It was then and there I knew I wanted be defensive back. That moment became the seed to a dream I would one day be blessed to live out... just not quite wearing the colors I expected.

On April 6, 2003, my dad woke me and my brothers up and brought us downstairs. I immediately knew something was wrong by my dad's eyes and body language. Through tears he told us our Paw Paw had unexpectedly passed away in his sleep. I had never seen my parents that upset. In fact, that singular scene would have told you all you needed to know about Chuck Johns' legacy. Not only were his grandsons and daughter a wreck, even his son-in-law was heartbroken.

I was not prepared for the flood of emotion I experienced as I walked through the chapel doors to my Grandpa's viewing. His service drew nearly a thousand people, with many waiting in a line out the door in the Baton Rouge heat just to pay their respect to a pillar of a man -- to say goodbye to Levi "Chuck" Johns.

I met many people that day whose lives were affected by my grandfather, but one in particular that stood out: Paul Dietzel. I shook his hand and tried to maintain my composure as one of the greatest coaches in college football history told me how much he loved and respected my grandfather. He had coached very few players like Chuck Johns before or since, he said -- a statement that has never left my mind and never will.

That is the type of man he was. He had the respect of his peers, coaches, children, in-laws and grandchildren.

He was a central branch in our family tree, one that stretched long and high, reaching for the sun to bring back light and life to the roots, and to breathe out life in return. Every branch was strengthened by his effort and every bit of new life still bears the markings of the life he lived.

Not long after my grandfather's passing, I sat in my high school coach's office to discuss my future. The end of my junior year was drawing close and I had much to prove. My junior season had come to a rocky end after I was absolutely roasted on the Astrodome turf (I won't shed a tear when they finally blow that place up) for three long touchdowns in a 31-0 loss in the second round of the playoffs. I had been completely embarrassed and felt like I had single-handedly ended our team's season.

So there I sat, discussing my dreams and aspirations with my coach, trying to figure out how to make those dreams and aspirations reality. I expressed my desire to continue playing football in college and asked for his advice on getting recruited. He obliged and quickly listed off some schools he thought I should look into. Wheaton, Abilene Christian, and, if I really improved my senior year, a team like Sam Houston State would take a look at me, he explained.

After observing my body language, he quickly concluded those weren't the options I had in mind, so he asked if I had any other thoughts. I quickly rattled off LSU, anywhere in the Big 12, SEC or one of the other major conferences. Maybe the Mountain West if I had to. I'll never forget the look on his face. Sitting across from him was a 5-foot-10, 165-pound cornerback saying he wanting to play at the highest level of college football. Looking back, I'm impressed he was able to keep a straight face.

He gracefully informed me that while dreaming big was great, I should approach the recruiting process with realistic expectations. While he believed in me and thought I was a great player, he told me that college coaches would snub their noses at me because I was too small, too slow and too white for my position.

To this day, I appreciate him for shooting me straight. His advice didn't have the intended effect of resetting my expectations, but rather served to fuel the fire burning inside me. As I walked out of his office that day, I repeated a phrase my Paw Paw used to hammer into our heads: Never say I can't.

With that thought constantly on my mind, the next five months consisted of little else than running, working out, 7-on-7 practice and extra work covering my high school teammates, including future Texas Tech standout Danny Amendola. Oh, and eating. Lots and lots of eating.

It was a transformative period. After seven PB&Js and three protein shakes a day and some good showings at summer camps, interest started to pick up. Soon after the start of my senior season, I received my first FBS scholarship, which gave way to a handful more. I still wish my grandfather could have been there to share in the glories of that fall. To not only enjoy my successes, but to also see his beloved Tigers win their first national championship in 45 years. A mere nine months after his passing.

That season I began wearing a wristband on my left arm, close to my heart, with the number 29 stitched in purple and gold. To keep the connection, to always remember my roots. And to remind myself I was playing for more than me, just as my Paw Paw lived; for his faith in Jesus and for his family. I wore that wristband for the rest of my playing career, as did my brothers and each of my cousins.

Just over four years later, on a crisp November night, the sixth-ranked Red Raiders faced off against the Texas Longhorns, the No. 1 team in the country, in a game for the ages. Texas Tech surged ahead early, closing the first half with a 16-point lead. But the tide began to turn in the second half, as the Longhorns mounted a comeback. With the clock ticking down in the third quarter and the visitors trailing by nine, I lined up in the slot on defense, dressed in black from head to toe, except for a few slivers of red and white, and a little bit purple and gold on my left arm. One slightly missed read by Colt McCoy, an ill-timed throw and a few incredible blocks later, I found myself staring up an exploding student section as I crossed the goal line in a moment I would never forget.

I can't help but think of how that moment connected me to my Paw Paw. Had it not been for him inspiring my family's love of LSU, I would never have watched Cedric Donaldson return that interception for a touchdown and may never have had that burning desire to be a defensive back. And I wish he could have been there that night, not just because I know he would have been proud, but because I wish he would have been able to see that his life had inspired me to follow my dreams and never say I can't.

Now that I have transitioned from player to fan, from college student to the real world, from son to father, I see my grandfather's imprint upon my life even more. I see his imprint on the grandparents my mom and dad have become. On the faith and love I learned from them, which they learned in so many ways from my grandfather.

I see it in my own two boys that already have their great-grandfather's passion and drive for life. Not something taught, but something imprinted deep within them. The common thread that weaves through time, from root to seed.

I see a formerly broken cycle and an entire family shifted from its past, now growing in a prosperous direction. All because one man decided what he had was not good enough, that he would do more for his own children, and that he would leave a legacy that would live on and spread with each passing generation.

So even though this may be just another game for some, it has already proven significant to me because it led me to dive into my past, to find out more about my grandfather that I didn't already know.

It brings full circle my childhood and my adult life so far. The Tigers that consumed my past going head to head with the Red Raiders that consume my present.

I always knew it was possible we would play LSU, but it still feels a bit surreal to be at odds with half of my extended family, rooting for the Red and Black. And as I think about the game Levi "Chuck" Johns had in the first meeting between these two programs 61 years ago, I find myself hoping that it's a running back from Texas Tech, not LSU, making the headlines. So go ahead DeAndre Washington, take a page out of Paw Paw's 1954 playbook -- three touchdowns and a win for the Red Raiders would feel pretty sweet to me.

Wreck'Em
Daniel Charbonnet, Class of 2008