The summer before my senior year at LSU, I met with my academic advisor. It’s required at that juncture to ensure that you have your credits in place to graduate. The conclusion of the conversation was both fortunate and unfortunate. It turns out that I was so far ahead that I could graduate a semester early. No. Way.

In a bid to dodge December graduation, I added on another major: religious studies. As random as it may seem, this is a passion project I have carried into adulthood, and something that my mother claims I only engage with in order to cause chaos at family dinners. But that’s neither here nor there.

After adding this second major, I enrolled in one of my favorite classes I have ever taken, and one I wish I could take again: REL 4200 New Religious Movements. Taught by Kenny Paul Smith, this class was like if a podcast came to life and gave you a grade every once in a while—pure scholastic magic, at least in my opinion.

Throughout the semester, we spent a great deal of time examining the very basis of religion and what could, therefore, be classified as one. Specifically, I recall a sunny afternoon when we took the session outside. Beneath sprawling oak tree branches in the Quad, we talked about pop culture, sports and the fandoms that take them to the next level—a religious level, some might say.

I’m sure a few of you are already looking at this page the same way my mother looks at me during a Sunday dinner conversation. But hear me out.

Let’s talk about college football.

There are places of worship—Tiger Stadium. There are rituals—the win bar, Callin’ Baton Rouge, that one shirt your uncle always wears. There are deities—Joe Burrow, Tommy Casanova, Billy Cannon. There are songs—Tiger Rag, the alma mater, Hey Fightin’ Tigers. Heck, there’s even holy water—beer.

Jokes aside, there is a lot of overlap on the Venn diagram of LSU sports and religion. But maybe I’m just mistaking passion with devotion. Or maybe it’s those Joe Burrow saint candles I see all of you burning in your windows during the fall.

I truly believe there is something transcendent about LSU. I know there is. Otherwise, why would I be crying while teaching my three-year-old the words to the alma mater?

This month, in our cover story, we explore the interiors of a home just off LSU’s campus. The owners, Rip and Suzie Reeves, met while in college at LSU, and while photographer Kim Meadowlark went from room to room, they shared many fond memories of their time under the stately oaks and broad magnolias. It’s where they met and fell in love. It’s where their three daughters attended college. And it’s where they are proud to return after decades spent in the northeast.

Whether Tiger sports are a religious experience or not, there’s something to be said for the connection, community and love that exists because of them. Win or lose, it really is forever LSU.