But in the end, the true failing may lie with L.S.U.’s fanatical fan base, a group guilty of loving not wisely but too well. The fans look at their team, which does not split its talent-stocked state with any other Power 5 programs and freely spends on facilities and coaches (L.S.U.’s offensive and defensive coordinators make a combined $3.3 million, probably the highest anywhere), and expect it to win 10 games as a matter of course.

They perhaps lost sight of the fact that Miles, who is 63 — only seven years older than Orgeron — did just that in seven of his 11 full seasons. And that Miles was still recruiting with tremendous results, still representing the university well on the national stage with his colorful shtick, and, had he never been fired, would have begun this season as one of only five active head coaches to have won a national title.

Sanders, who hails from a Crimson Tide family in Mobile, Ala., understood why the L.S.U. fan base’s exhaustion with Miles might seem confusing.

“From an outsider perspective,” he said, “you’re like, he’s the winningest coach in L.S.U. history” — technically he won the second most behind Charles McClendon, who coached L.S.U. for more seasons — “it’s unreasonable to expect to win the SEC, much less compete for the national championship, every year. What kind of level of success is good enough?”

As the waters rise in the Bayou, Sanders articulated the fear that he and many of L.S.U.’s fans shared:

“Are the good times,” he said, “over for good?”