FAYETTEVILLE, Ark. — Not since my grandfather unexpectedly passed away when I was 13 have I experienced an atmosphere like this.
There was a heavy stunned silence as I entered the room that was so deafening it almost drowned out the sound of a woman sobbing with her head buried deep into the chest of a loved one who just hugged her as tight as he could.
The blank looks on their faces as they tried to sort through what had just happened and why was jarring. It unexpectedly caused memories of that night in my grandmother’s living room to all come flooding back, and for a moment it was much easier to process the misery that must the the life of Razorbacks fans.
The pain I saw after LSU eliminated Arkansas to reach the national championship series against Coastal Carolina was as real and deep as it gets. It was something far deeper and personal than what is typically seen when a team’s run abruptly comes to an end.
Just an hour earlier, while I sat at a strategically chosen seat at a table that allowed me to be see the heavyweight fight unfold between Arkansas and LSU, I was blindsided by an irate Hogs fan.
She wasn’t mad at me. I just happened to be in her line of sight shortly after Arkansas gave up its 1-0 lead, so scream at me for a solid minute she did. I sat there and took it because pointing out the fact I was hundreds of miles away from Omaha and had no bearing on how her team was playing wouldn’t have helped.
Besides, it was a commercial break and she hadn’t gotten into my personal space with it, so I just watched her go. When she finally ran out of steam and returned to her seat, I wasn’t even upset.
It was easy to see that the years of abuse taken on by supporting the Razorbacks had sent her over the top. She had held tightly onto hope that Arkansas would cling onto its 1-0 lead all the way to the end, and now that LSU had gained a 2-1 lead, she wasn’t capable of imagining a world where the Hogs could somehow battle back.
It was as predictable as a Little League coach ordering pepperoni and cheese pizzas for the end of the year team get together. Arkansas falls behind after having the edge, then Razorbacks fans go into end of the world mode and become angry at the team for the loss that is now inevitable and themselves for believing once again there was a chance.
I, on the other hand, free of all these emotional tethers, knew Arkansas had the better pitching staff and confidence the hitters would find a way to squeeze out at least one or two more runs against the Tigers’ bullpen, so I quietly slipped away to another part of the building to watch it all unfold.
As a classically trained journalist whose professors beat the idea of cheering for any team out of me in the name of integrity and unbiased reporting, even if my own mother somehow showed up on the roster, I was able to enjoy the roller coaster ride that took place over the final two innings. It was a back and forth ripped right out of a “30-for-30” or a Hollywood movie script.
However, for the Arkansas fans around me, which included one solid white husky proudly wearing a Razorbacks jersey, the up and down of what was happening only served to raise the rawess of each emotion. When Ryder Helfrick drove in a pair of runs in the eighth on a fielder’s choice, you would have thought the game had just been walked off.
That was it. It was over. Ring the bell, get that fat lady a microphone and hand over the national championship because Arkansas just took it home.
There was no way LSU was coming back despite how small a 3-2 lead actually is. Until they did.
In one of the most iconic moments in College World Series history, Jared Jones, known across baseball as “The Bear,” took a massive swing and then stood still watching, soaking in the destruction he was about to cause to the psyche of Arkansas fans. While it was only a solo shot that tied the game, the shift from unstoppable to inconsolable immediately rolled across the building as the ball easily left the yard on the screens.
Jared Jones from Marietta, Georgia just hit a game tying home run in the CWS for LSU #WorkTweet #LocalizeEverything
pic.twitter.com/egL9VWzfrj— Reggie Chatman Jr. (@ReggieChatman) June 19, 2025
The mood was low as Arkansas fans turned into prey, content to cower and picture the many ways their dreams were about to be eaten by the LSU machine. Then Justin Thomas happened.
Easily the most overlooked and underappreciated potential offensive MVP in all of College World Series history, the Hogs No. 9 hitter delivered one last time, as he has done regularly over the past several days. He drove in a pair of runs and had Arkansas fans from Hawaii to Australia believing the Hogs could finally do it.
Justin Thomas: American Hero
8-14 in Omaha and his biggest hit yet gives Arkansas the lead again. #WPS
— Jacob Morris (@JacobMorrisTV) June 19, 2025
That was when the first sign the Razorbacks were about to Arkansas this thing popped up. It was a minor red flag, but after years of covering the Hogs, it’s easy to notice the signs.
Arkansas coach Dave Van Horn opted to place the weight of the Razorbacks’ entire national championship pursuit onto the shoulders of a freshman pitcher. Now, keep in mind, this was a sign something was in the air, not a cause.
Cole Gibler is a quality pitcher and he ultimately did his job. What happened wasn’t his fault.
There was just a series of events set into motion by the baseball fates that couldn’t be stopped.
Everyone knows the rest. An easy double play ball that Arkansas refused to carry out that would have ended the game with little effort.
A hard downward spinning liner that caused one of the best defensive outfielders in all of baseball to slip before the ball bounced off his body and into the left field corner that allowed the game to be tied.
Then the decision to pitch to “The Bear” with a base open and only one out needed along with a little magic that caused the wicking on Cam Kozeal’s glove to give as he lept high into the air to make the line drive catch to perfection that would have sent things to extra innings.
It was an improbable chain of events that couldn’t have happened a single other time had that last inning been played another 1,000, but that’s how it broke down. As the ball blasted its way through the grasp of Kozeal’s glove and landed softly into the outfield, the air in the building in Northwest Arkansas sucked out so fast it’s surprising the windows didn’t cave in and the whole place implode.
Immediately my brain went into work mode, rattling off the chain of events in those final minutes and trying to make sense of them. Then it hit.
The only noise in the whole place was my thoughts. I glanced around and then slowly got up and quietly walked room to room assessing the damage.
It was bad. It was genuinely hard to look at.
It was a feeling I can only assume is akin to emerging from a home into the neighborhood street to see the immediate and devastating destruction of a tornado. This one appears to have flattened everything.
I’m not sure the people of Arkansas will ever get over this loss to LSU. It looks like it’s going to be even harder to leave behind than the Oregon State game in the national championship series even though the title technically wasn’t on the line this time.
To Razorbacks fans, my condolences. This appears to be a very hard loss.
The initial pain is going to stick around for a long time because it will be a while before Arkansas fans start trying to turn their minds to football. Perhaps the worst part of the small doubt in regard as to what this means for Van Horn’s pursuit of the national championship he so richly deserves.
He’s done it before after devastating runs, but how many times can a man rebuild only to face the storm of what can only be described as an Arkansas curse one more time?
I guess we’ll have to wait and see.
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