When Nick Saban left LSU for the NFL, Baton Rouge was crushed. The man who’d led the Tigers to a national title and built them into a perennial contender had bolted for the Miami Dolphins, chasing a dream in the pros. The move was seen as a betrayal. But the pain was supposed to be temporary. After all, NFL gigs rarely last long, and there was always hope that Saban might return to college football—maybe even to LSU.
But when that chance came, when Saban decided to return to the college ranks after his stint in Miami, he didn’t go back to Louisiana. No, he made the “mistake” of taking the Alabama job. And for LSU fans, that wasn’t just a jab—it was a dagger.
Fast forward nearly two decades, and that “mistake” has become one of the greatest blessings in Alabama football history. Crimson Tide fans look back on that moment now with disbelief and joy. What was seen as a risky, even puzzling decision at the time turned into the most dominant run in college football history.
For Alabama, Saban didn’t just bring trophies—he brought an empire. Under his leadership, the Crimson Tide became the standard-bearer of the sport. Seven national championships (six at Alabama), a dynasty that spanned over a decade, and a pipeline to the NFL that remains unmatched. Alabama became synonymous with dominance, with “The Process,” with greatness. It became what LSU thought it could’ve been.
And that’s exactly why LSU fans still can’t stand it. It’s not just about the wins. It’s not just about the titles or the fact that Saban kept raiding Louisiana for top recruits. It’s about the emotional gut punch. It’s about watching your ex become rich, famous, and happier than ever—with someone else. Alabama fans love it because it’s the ultimate power move. LSU fans hate it because it feels like fate turned on them.
The bitterness is baked into the rivalry now. Every year, when LSU lines up against Alabama, the Saban storyline hangs over the game like a ghost. Even when LSU pulled off a win in 2019 with Joe Burrow and Ed Orgeron, the joy was tinged with years of pain. It wasn’t just beating Alabama—it was beating Saban. It was temporary vengeance for over a decade of torment.
But Alabama fans? They’re the ones laughing now. They’ll tell you Saban “mistakenly” picked Alabama over LSU—and thank God he did. What started as a controversial hire turned into a college football revolution. The players who came through Tuscaloosa under his watch—Julio Jones, Derrick Henry, Tua Tagovailoa, Mac Jones, DeVonta Smith, Will Anderson, Bryce Young—are now household names. NFL rosters are packed with former Saban disciples. And the wins kept piling up.
Saban didn’t just change Alabama. He redefined it. When he arrived, the program was still reeling from the post-Bear Bryant wilderness. It had flirted with success but lacked stability, direction, and identity. Saban gave it all three. He brought structure, recruited like no one else, and instilled a level of discipline that became legendary. He took a once-great program and made it unstoppable.
And he did it with the intensity and precision of a man trying to prove something. Maybe that’s the irony LSU fans feel most. They gave Saban his first shot at greatness—and then had to watch helplessly as he reached his true potential somewhere else.
It’s like watching your former spouse not just move on, but glow up in every possible way. They find the perfect job, the perfect house, the perfect life—and every time you see them, it stings just a little more. That’s LSU’s relationship with Alabama since 2007. Every championship celebration in Tuscaloosa is another reminder of what could’ve been.
And make no mistake: Alabama fans know it. They relish it. Not just because of the wins or the dominance, but because of the story behind it. They get to say, “You had him first—and you lost him.” It’s football’s version of poetic justice, and in the South, where football is religion, that kind of redemption tale hits hard.
Now that Saban has retired, the chapter is closed. Alabama fans are reflective—and grateful. What started with a gamble ended with a golden age. They got the best years of Nick Saban, the ones where he wasn’t just building a program, but perfecting one. LSU fans, meanwhile, are left with the memories of 2003—and the what-ifs.
Maybe it was a mistake for Saban to leave LSU. Maybe it was a mistake for him to come back to college football. Maybe it was a mistake to choose Alabama. But for Crimson Tide fans, it’s the best “mistake” that’s ever happened. They won the lottery. And every Saturday in the fall, they got to cash in.
What makes it all the more painful for LSU? It wasn’t just that they lost Nick Saban—it’s that their greatest rival gained him. They watched their enemy rise to the top using the blueprint Saban developed in Baton Rouge, only sharper, richer, and more relentless. It wasn’t just heartbreak. It was humiliation.
To Alabama fans, Saban’s tenure was validation of everything they believed Alabama football could be again. To LSU fans, it was betrayal wrapped in crimson. And in the end, that’s what makes this rivalry so bitter—and so compelling.
One man. One decision. A ripple effect that changed the balance of power in the SEC—and college football at large—forever.
So yes, Alabama fans are thrilled Nick Saban made that “mistake.” And LSU fans? They’ll never stop wondering what might have been.