What can I say? 
What words can be written that haven’t already been felt, spoken or wept? The answer is none. But alas, I have to try. Coach Leach wouldn’t want it any other way. 
A few weeks ago, which now feels like years, I wrote a lead for a story: “You never forget your first time.” I was referencing Leach’s first win in the Egg Bowl, the win which would wind up being his last. 
For the last few days, I’ve wrestled with that sentence. How it felt so sweet in the moment. You’re not supposed to root for the teams you cover, but as a student journalist, how can you not? All I’ve ever known is the maroon and white ever since I was a little boy. I remember watching Dak Prescott and Dan Mullen take a team to the top of the college football world and how excited my dad was. 
The excitement I felt in those days pales in comparison to the day that I, a freshman at MSU, found out that Mike Leach was going to be the next head coach at Mississippi State. 
I remember calling my friends and family and screaming at the top of my lungs, “We got him! We got the Pirate!”
That was the first time I had felt that kind of excitement around a college football program. The air was different in Starkville, the city that I considered sacred as far as my college football beliefs were concerned. That was my first time experiencing the “Mike Leach Effect”. It’s the most surreal thing I’ve ever seen — the buzz that one man could create. I’ll never forget that first time. 
Fast forward to the next fall. COVID-19 is running rampant, and I was forced to watch from home as the “Effect” made its way down to Baton Rouge. We all remember it, don’t we? In his first ever game at MSU, Leach had toppled a giant. He swung his sword, and from then on, the nation knew that the team in Starkville could play with anybody. Mississippi State was at the forefront of the college football world, if but for a moment.
That was the first time I had ever seen a student body that excited about a football team up close and personal, including myself. By kickoff of week two, I had convinced myself that there was absolutely no chance we weren’t winning a national championship, and if you’re going to tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind, then you’re a liar. I’ll never forget that first time. 
After that season, I was hired as a sports writer here at The Reflector. I had just changed my major to journalism, and could not grasp the fact that I, a hick from Kossuth, Mississippi, was going to get the privilege to cover Mississippi State football. Not just that, but I was also going to get to cover Mike Leach, a man that I had only been able to admire from afar for so long. 
I can remember how nervous I was for the first press conference. I don’t even think I asked a question until halfway through the season. I just sat and watched the pros work their magic. The way they asked questions was almost conversational, and as a young journalist, I had no idea how that was so. As time passed, however, I realized it wasn’t because the questions themselves were conversational, coach Leach was. 
The day I decided to ask my first question, I remember raising my hand only halfway, and Brandon Langlois was kind enough to notice it. I was handed a microphone, and through the worst case of the shakes I believe I’ve ever had, stumbled through a question. It had to be the worst one of the evening, but coach Leach didn’t care. He ran with it. He answered the question in full, and truthfully, just like I was any of the other people in the room getting paid to be there.
That was the first time I ever felt like a college coach noticed me, a lowly student journalist, asking a question in a room full of professionals. He had an effect that made you feel appreciated. I’ll never forget that first time. 
This past Thanksgiving, a much more comfortable and seasoned Tanner sat in the press box and got to watch his favorite team take back the Golden Egg. It was the first time I had watched Mississippi State win an Egg Bowl in Oxford. I almost couldn’t contain my excitement. I was sitting next to Elizabeth Keen, another student journalist who does amazing work, and when the final buzzer sounded, we couldn’t help but smile. Our Bulldogs had done it. I wore that smile for days. 
I’ll never forget that first time. 
Coach Leach had an innate ability to ingrain himself into the culture of wherever his path led him. He might have only lived here for a few years, but he was a Mississippian, and he loved being one. For a man like him, a man that is admired by so many people not just across the country, but across the world, to take pride in the place that I’ve been able to call home for my entire life was special to me. 
But, then again, coach Leach was a special man. He marched to the beat of his own drum. He was unequivocally, unashamedly himself, no matter what. He lived every day like it was his last, and in the end, I like to believe that’s given me some level of comfort over these past few days. 
There was one first I never got to experience, though. I always said that I would kill to have a beer with coach Leach. Tomorrow, I’ll be going to Davis Wade Stadium, and I’ll have that beer, and that will be the last item on a long list of “firsts” that I am incredibly proud to say all involved the pillar of college football that is, was and always will be Mike Leach. We’ll miss you, coach. Keep swinging. 
“Yo Ho, Yo Ho, A Pirate’s Life for Me.”