On a Thursday night in late August, after five days of preseason drills, every Tiger Band hopeful huddled over their phones, waiting for the roster to drop at 7 p.m. In the tuba room, a countdown began. Heart thudding, Kent scrolled alphabetically through the names. The first two sousaphone spots went to newcomers, signaling hope he might be next.“Oh, my God, I made it,” he blurted, jumping up and down amid the raucous cheers.The eruption masked a reality only his family knew: Two weeks earlier, while crabbing, Kent slipped while loading a boat onto its trailer, cracking a rib on the gunwale.The rib never fazed him. But earlier that day, Kent returned home between auditions, certain his odds were only “30 percent.”“I could just tell his voice when I heard him through the phone,” Cheryl said. “We were all so, so happy for him. We knew how hard he’d worked, so it was a wonderful, wonderful experience for us.”Cheryl lived within arm’s reach of Kent’s grind. She watched him pound out miles on baking asphalt before picking up the horn for hours of rehearsal. Even on a family trip to Japan, Kent carried his sheet music and pretended to play the tuba with his fingers.Music and LSU’s Tiger Band were Kent’s constants since he was a kid. Five years ago at dinner, Kent told his family he might enroll at LSU. Lauren laughed it off.AdvertisementBut by Father’s Day, the support turned tangible. Lauren emailed LSU’s band director about eligibility and surprised her dad with a thick Tiger Band history book. The reply came with good news — the directors were on board.“He was a tuba player in college, but running and lifting weights and all this stuff, that didn’t come till way later in life for him,” Lauren said. “And he really finds joy in it now. I think it’s something he’ll continue to do, regardless of where life takes him.”In Baton Rouge, Kent’s tuba became the neighborhood’s soundtrack, rolling off the patio on humid nights. Neighbors needed a few minutes of explanation until their skepticism gave way to admiration.By game day, the circle of believers stretched wider. His family waved signs and wept when his face lit the video board, and afterward, he couldn’t cross the concourse without handshakes and selfies.“I didn’t do this to get attention, that’s just not me,” Kent said. “I’m a person that’s more in the background. … I want to make sure that everyone understands that this is not about me, it’s about us. It’s about the sound that we make.”After LSU’s win Saturday, a mother approached Kent with her son. All the boy wanted was to meet Kent, the mother said.“Normally, kids don’t want to meet band members,” Lauren said.Kent bent under the sousaphone’s weight, grinning as the boy’s face lit up. The circle had finally closed — once the boy straining against the railing for sound, now the sound others strained for.“I may be the oldest person ever to join Tiger Band, but I don’t look at it like that,” said Kent, who has no timetable on this improbable encore. “Everybody I’ve ever spoken to says, ‘You’re my inspiration.’ And if I can help one person do that, that’s an awesome thing.”(Photos and video courtesy of Lauren Broussard), When most people think about retirement, they imagine slowing down. But for 66-year-old Kent Broussard, retirement became the perfect chance to chase a dream he had carried with him for decades—marching down Victory Hill as a member of the Golden Band from Tigerland., Kent Broussard joined Louisiana State University’s marching band at 66 years old. LSU / YouTube “I had a conversation with my wife and my family about five years ago [and] I said, ‘What I .