As an old equipment guy, I offer a comment:

The uniform Devin White of Springhill was wearing when he either did (by rule) or didn’t (by God!) “target” the Mississippi State quarterback in Saturday night’s win? It was awesome.

I love a big number. The simplicity of the all-white pants and jersey, the Grand Canyon-big numbers (!), the lack of nameplates, the modern helmets that somehow managed to look “old” because they were muted: I thought the Tigers looked awesome. And I don’t ever use the word “awesome” unless I am talking about either a really good breakfast when the grits are perfect or a really good bacon cheeseburger. Or my mother.

I loved the uniforms.

These, I understand, were worn as a tribute to the season that wasn’t. LSU didn’t play football in 1918 because of World War 1. In case you have forgotten, America and the Allies covered the spread.

There were other nuanced nuances as to why the Tigers wore what they did, all of which you can discover if you wish by Googling (at work even, if no one is watching).

Most of the time, “throwback” uniforms are a disgrace. But I always enjoy them because I think, when I see them, of the locker room conversations at the time they were NOT throwbacks but were instead the actual uniforms of the day.

One locker: “These are AWESOME, like the breakfast I had with really good grits this morning!”

Another locker: “I am SO embarrassed to wear this crap. It looks like my parents mixed up my Garanimals.”

And so it goes in the uniform game. It’s a dicey deal, but it matters. Most guys play better if they feel they look good out there.

But the best way to look good is to do what you’re supposed to do.

I love to see Devin White play. Wish I could see him for four quarters against Alabama. But I can’t. He’s out for the first half because he targeted.

I apologize, but I can read. Specifically, the targeting rule. It’s exasperating, and the way it’s enforced invites criticism. But White, according to the rule, broke it.

But he looked good in that uniform.

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