Crimson Red Sports

BATON ROUGE, La. -- Every time Les Miles leaves the island of his office, he finds himself surrounded by other people's families. They crowd around, extending hands and scraps of paper, fathers urging boys to summon the courage to speak to the famous coach. At his weekly radio show, to which he is currently driving, a man will thrust a baby into his arms. Miles winds around the swampy lakes of Baton Rouge, the headlights of his white Cadillac SUV throwing shadows off the moss-covered live oaks. Set back from the water, each house glows warm and yellow.

The people in those homes are finished with their days, but he's still at work, a few minutes before 7 p.m. His mind focuses on the upcoming game with Alabama, perhaps the most important of his career. In the middle of a bye week, everything remains a question. Will the team execute? Will he put the players in position to win? And, beneath the worries of his job, another: Should he spend Friday night recruiting? Or should he find a spot in the University High stands, cheering on freshman wide receiver Manny Miles, who caught his first varsity touchdown pass a week ago? Should he watch someone else's child -- or his own?

"That's my dilemma," he says. "Recruit or see my son play? I've yet to make that decision."

I rode by boat one night, 1am-4am, only a short ride to a drilling rig southwest of Houma, Louisiana. As are many nights on the bayou, it was serious foggy (fog gets worse when they burn the cane fields). The boat skipper eased along, directing a spotlight from bank to bank, trying to stay centered. The engines then went from a slow crawl to idle.

He reversed the engines to turn the bow. Myself and his crew went on deck to see what was wrong. His light shined upon 3 coonasses clinging to 2 pilings or posts in the water. One had accidently blasted a hole in their boat. Guns and boat were on the bottom.

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Years ago my brother and I were fishing in the Gulf south of Mobile Bay. He had hooked an eight foot hammerhead and about 30 minutes later pulled it up next to the boat and I got the rifle.

The seas weren't rough but still 2-3 foot swells, I aimed at the head of the shark between the eyes and was just about to pull the trigger when my brother  yelled don't shoot a hole in the bottom of the boat. Well all that did was make the shot that much harder.

Eventually I squeezed off a round and killed the shark, but I fussed at him for yelling at me before I shot and making me more nervous. I can see that shooting a hole in your own boat is easier than you think.

I've just made it policy not to shoot anywhere near my own boat. Hope this helps.