Once Disney, Inc. gets a hold of the movie rights to this LSU season, the whole thing will begin with a barefooted Ed Orgeron taking a piroque out of the sticks and paddle-poling out of the bayous and into some suburban canal to snatch a snaggle-toothed 10-year-old off a playground somewhere. Then he'll give him free reign to bring the LSU offense into the 21st century, all the while dragging the Tigers back into football prominence.

His parents will have to drop him off at work every day, where he'll smirk and dazzle his clumsy elders with uncanny, why-didn't-I-think-of-that? football ploys. Think Macaulay Culkin vs. Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern in "Home Alone."

Who knows? Maybe there's flubber involved.

It won't be that far off, at least in the public perception.

Check the oohs and aahs of a football nation still startled that LSU, out of nowhere and after more than a few misfires, suddenly has a wild and crazy offense.

As I hear it, it's all because of this wunderkind Joe Brady, who looks young enough to have learned all his football from the "Madden NFL" video game.

There will be some slight dramatic license. But not much.

In fact, Brady is 30 years old, but just barely, by about three weeks.

LSU fans are already fretting. How long before some Big Money State U. swoops in and unloads a gold chest to lure him to be their head coach.

Just slow down.

Back to reality.

This is the first year that Brady has really been a genuine, full-time, bona fide assistant coach.

Yeah, he came from the Saints, Drew Brees, Sean Payton, all of that. But don't let his Saints title "offensive assistant" there fool you. It was really more like being an assistant to a real assistant coach. It wasn't a go-fer job, but he didn't have a key to the executive washroom.

Before that he was a graduate assistant at Penn State, where the offensive coordinator was Joe Moorhead, now head coach of the Mississippi State team that Brady and LSU will visit Saturday.

As far as the résumé goes, that was about it.

You couldn't make this stuff up. Now you can't say Revitalized LSU Offense without a Joe Brady modifier.

But no question he knows him some offense, particularly that RPO stuff LSU had heard so much about.

The way the story goes, Orgeron and LSU just wanted some pointers from the Saints on integrating some of the RPOs into their system.

Happens all the time.

The Saints sent Brady and he blew the coaches away.

Orgeron wasn't in for the instructional meetings, but to hear him tell it, his assistants came staggering out of those tutorials with jaws dropping, gasping for air and begging Orgeron to bring him on board.

Maybe he could coach, maybe he couldn't.

But a boy genius with virtually no real assistant coaching experience was about to be given the keys to the offense of a big-time college program.

Orgeron has coached just about everywhere in America and, counting his interim stint at Southern Cal, is on his third head coaching job, albeit his dream one.

But he'd never been a coordinator.

This Brady kid ­— wasn't there a Joe in "The Brady Bunch?" No? OK — was given the title passing game coordinator with virtually no on-field battle-testing.

As I understand it, it was the hire of the year in college football, with the young whippersnapper force-feeding one of the great offensive transformations in college history.

It does make a great story.

Orgeron should get a lot of credit for finding the young gem.

Orgeron and Moorhead are especially close. He and the Mississippi State coach always sit next to each other at the SEC coaches meetings.

But Orgeron didn't consult Moorhead, who probably knew Brady as well as anybody, before bringing him on board.

"But as soon as I hired Joe, he gave me a call," Orgeron said. "He said, ‘Ed, great hire. Joe worked for me. I think he's going to do tremendous things for you at LSU.' He was exactly right."

So why didn't Moorhead hire Brady when he got the State job? Yeah, give Orgeron some credit for that gamble.

But Orgeron would also tell you that none of this works without Steve Ensminger, who, unbeknownst to many, really is still the offensive coordinator.

Ensminger is the opposite of Brady — a 61-year-old veteran who's at his eighth school, four of them in the SEC. He was a coordinator the year Brady was born.

It might bother some veterans to not only have to work side by side with such inexperience, but also to have to watch the young know-it-all get all the credit.

It's working fine because Ensminger has brushed aside what little ego he might have. Truth be told, it's the kind of offense Ensminger probably would have liked to have been running sooner instead of harnessing his inner gunslinger with more quaint attacks.

And make no mistake, Ensminger, who welcomed Brady from the start and worked hand in hand with him during the spring's trial-and-error phase of the new offense, is still calling the plays.

Brady sits next to him in the press box and certainly has input, basically trying to stay one play ahead.

Ensminger uses some of Brady's plays. Brady gets all the credit.

Ensminger could care less.

It's a perfect pairing for a young up-and-comer.

Winding up a long career in his hometown coaching at his alma mater, Ensminger is not padding his résumé or his ego at this point. He just wants to win in peace. If he never has to be on a press conference podium again in his career, he'll retire a happy coach.

He's famous for avoiding the spotlight. But better find a spot for him in this movie, too.


Scooter Hobbs covers LSU athletics. Email him at shobbs@americanpress.com

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