You may feel a particular, for want of a better phrase, gumbo.
The voice of this beloved LSU football trainer embodies the area where he participates, a tightknit portion of the nation not a lot of the nation ever visits, a region that bloats southward from New Orleans, even when most traffic to New Orleans do not push to see it since most traffic to New Orleans should not drive anywhere. It’s marshland along with bayous and cities as well as census-designated areas with titles such as Cut Off, Golden Meadow and Larose (Orgeron’s hometown), settled mostly by Acadians whom the British expelled from oriental Canada and northern Maine from the mid-1700therefore, and that ricocheted from France and resettled.
“A lot of people don’t know that there is a south of New Orleans,” stated Robin White, an associate professor of English and French in Nicholls State University at Thibodaux, La. , roughly 35 km northwest of Larose, that is roughly 62 kilometers south-southwest of New Orleans. “It’s quickly, because of sea-level rise, it’s kind of washing away, and it’s a very interesting part of the United States. … If you go down there, A, it’s a beautiful part of Louisiana, and B, everybody talks like that down there.”
She stated of this Acadians, “They come from New England snow and lobster and were faced with alligators and mosquitoes, and they make it.” So at Orgeron’s voice,” she stated, “There’s a little bit of French in his pronunciation of things, and there’s a little bit of Southern.” And, she explained, “It’s locally called, ‘He talks flat.’”
Without query, Orgeron’s voice has given additional vividness into the kaleidoscopic college football arena, particularly because his present team has blasted into 13-0, to No. 1 at the land and also to LSU’s initial College Football Playoff semifinal, coming Saturday at Atlanta against Oklahoma. Go to a cramped Tuscaloosa interview room following a win at Alabama and listen to him nearly warble about being able to visit the seven -Eleven because of his Red Bull without needing to hear lovers ask anymore if he will conquer Alabama, and you may think you are in some kind of Southern football dreamscape.
Listen with precision, however, and you may grasp echoes of a broader history. “His ’T’ is a little bit French,” for one thing, White said. “The French have a very distinct ‘T.’ It’s a very interdental ‘T.’ Our ‘T,’ that the tongue does not move between the teeth. But that the interdental, it is just barely between tooth. It’s one of those things which make him seem like, Where’s he ?”
Further:”Listen into his ‘r’s’ if he talks… turned a small bit to some ‘w’… it is not exactly the English ‘r.’ It’s somewhat milder. Our [English] ‘r’ is quite special.” Lafourche Parish, by which Orgeron hails, “is pronounced ‘Lafooosh,’” White later wrote in an emailaddress.
English, she said, will be “a little bit more sing-songy. Accents go up and down in English, and not so much in French. The intonation is a little bit flatter, and you go up only at the end,” with “fewer ups and downs.”
“I would not be surprised if his parents were French speakers,” White stated, and bingo, his mum’s French fluency has emerged in many reports across Orgeron’s five seasons at LSU (twice as non-interim head trainer ). “Orgeron,” White stated, is a French title, not an Acadian (Cajun) one, which she notes within her entire “mission” to fight the imprecision we frequently use when overusing the term “Cajun.” Typically, “Orgeron” would possess a hushed “n” in the conclusion, but she can not envision how “the rest of the people in the United States slaughter it.”
The motto at Orgeron’s high school, South Lafourche, White emailed, stays “Tant que je peux,” significance, “All that I can.” Football fanatics long because may have seen the Frenchness at the pronunciation of the surname of Orgeron’s high school teammate, the prior New Orleans Saints and Atlanta Falcons quarterback Bobby Hebert, who hails from Cut Off.
Add that the Southernness, and you also receive the “y’alls” here and there. “They speak more slowly than a standard French speaker,” White said. “The pace isn’t quite as fast.”
Orgeron, after all, stems in “down the bayou.”
“He is just the embodiment of what ‘Down The Bayou’ means,” stated Ian McNulty, the food writer for the Times-Picayune/New Orleans Advocate, along with the writer of a publication, “Louisiana Rambles: Exploring America’s Cajun and Creole Heartland.” “‘Down The Bayou’ is not a place. It’s not a sense of direction. It’s not something to which you give people driving directions. It’s sense of place and a sense of bearing. … Somebody’s character is ‘Down The Bayou.’ It means deeply rooted, way out there, deep in Louisiana. It’s not a vector point. It’s a mind-set. It’s a framework for identity. ‘Down The Bayou’ is who somebody is, or what something is.”
In Orgeron’s voice, McNulty stated a listener might find “incredible warmth, but you also feel this power behind it, this strength.” He likens it into some endure both conversational and physically capable of dislodging your limbs. He stated: “In that voice you can hear a defiance against the wind. You can hear a voice that shouts against the wind, that’s going to do things his way. It’s a big voice, but it’s not a scary voice. Firm, but it’s not harsh. It’s weathered. Callused, but not without tenderness. You know he could lift up a 55-gallon oil drum on the derrick if he had to. He also could brush back a newborn baby’s hair.”
It’s “very manly,” McNulty explained. “Getting it done. Fixing your own car by holding up the hood. ‘I got this. I got this. Hold my beer.’”
It sprouts in the region meshing Europe, that the American South, that the Caribbean, the one-time possession by Spain (1763-1801), the mix, all with trucks moving by oil-tool components in their flatbeds and individuals with both titles and nicknames. Orgeron’s parents, Cornelia and the late Edward, proceed and moved “Co Co” and “Ba Ba.” For Orgeron himself, it is “Bébé.”
“Everyone lives along the Bayou,” McNulty stated of Bayou Lafourche. “There’s one town after the next, kind of along that same main street.” Down there, “You’re taking the one road. You’re crossing the one drawbridge. Maybe you’re on the one side of the Bayou or the other, but you can see each other across the Bayou.” It’s a “land of reunion for people identified as people of Acadia. The Acadians. The Cajuns. ‘We were wronged. We were scattered,’ to a region with, as McNulty put it, “loads of swamp, reptiles and insects the size of hummingbirds,” that the redfish leaping, the gators, the folks pursuing the gators.
“The hide of the gator, that’s sort of the texture of that voice,” McNulty explained.
It’s a voice which made prior Tigers defensive end Michael Robichaux, that a Raceland ear, nose and throat doctor, dispense a legend-worthy lineup to Associated Press sportswriter Brett Martel at 2017: “LSU finally has a coach without an accent.”
And it is a voice of that stated Michele Theriot, associate professor of English in Nicholls State, “If good Louisiana gumbo could talk, it would sound exactly like Coach O.”