After The Bowl...

I got that feeling again. I just cant help it. I wanted to, but I have been trained otherwise. I swear I tried to clear my mind, but the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man just popped in there. The only difference was I wasn't fighting Zeul, or attempting to save my girlfriend who had recently been transformed into a dog, as Bill Murray poetically said. Being away from my home, I wanted the Saints to be the representatives of the new Atlantis. The timing was right, or so I thought. I tried to clear my head, but there they were.

During the time I was away from the streets that I proudly call my home, I, much like most people that have spent any significant time in the what was once the forgotten city of New Orleans, yearned for that comfort and the rhythm of life that I had grown accustomed to. I cooked the typical meals, attempted to drink beer outside (pretty much tried to drink beer everywhere) riffled through what memories and keepsakes I still had left, but Sundays were different. I expected a winner. I expected something different. I wanted to re connect with the thousands that were thrown about the country, away from their homes, family, and comforts, re-connect through one constant, unifying subject.

Its almost like I had forgotten that the players in black and gold didn't have homes or families. I had forgotten they were going through the exact same thing I was. The entire roster on the field had the exact same feelings as those faithful enough to continue to watch, and I actually expected them to perform, and perform well. They won just three games that year, and looking back on it, I'm damn proud of those three.

That was the one and only year I expected them to do well. I thought there would be some other force, or higher power if you will, that would allow greatness to reign. Little did I know there actually was some force, or higher being, I just didn't realize it yet. They had to do poorly, and everyone had to go. Just as the people came back, the team did the exact same thing. The team mimicked the citizens for two years. We got down on ourselves, and no one really cared. We did our own thing, and no one cared. Then we came back, and came back stronger than ever. The team did the exact same thing, and no one noticed.

The setbacks came, first in Chicago for the conference crown, and a trip to the superbowl. The timing wasn't right though. We had to learn, we had to evolve. It was a mere dress rehearsal for what was to come.

Then came the opening game in 2007 against the reigning superbowl champs, the colts. But alas, it wasn't meant to be. One must learn humility before he can walk proud.

Then it happened- all the hopes, wishes, and dreams came true. I don't care about story book seasons, or fairy tale Cinderella headlines. We got our asses beat. We took it for years, but worked hard, tweaked the system, and shoved right back. Only we shoved harder, and it showed.

Normally, when I dream, I have a fancy car, lots of cash, a big house, and not a care in the world. Then I wake up, and reality sets in. I don't have a fancy car, I'm broke, and I live in a crumbling shotgun. Now that's the season is upon us, thats how I am feeling, as Im just starting to wake up. Im groggy, can't see well, still trying to get my feet under me. Im really trying not too, but I can't help it. Did that really happen last year? Can it happen again? Then I see that the Vikings are complaining that we hit too hard, and were too rough in last years' NFC Championship game. We hit too hard? The Saints?

No, no, we played the game how it was meant to be played. With feeling, and vigor, and passion, as the team is still mimicking the fans. They are growing stronger, and have desires, and we are now reaping the benefits of hard work. The time has come to sit back and collect.

Remember watching Major League? That movie, along with Bull Durham gets me through the winters, and most of spring training as I await my beloved Cubs to take the field. (I know, I follow the Saints and the Cubs. I've heard it. Trust me, I get the references and the similarities.) There is a scene at the end of Major League as the Indians and Rick Vaughn are battling, and they show the fans around town rooting on the team. The brief bar scene showing the "non- traditional" sports fans, as in the more punk rock guys, and the goth chicks watching baseball and chatting stats with the blue and white collar folks or the "traditional" sports fans was an actual scene in my life today. I had a friendly argument with a "non traditional" sports fan over the Saints defense, and halfway through I realized what was happening. We're talking Saints football, and in a positive way. We were arguing who was a more integral part of the defense by position of safety, corner, and linebacker. Toi Cook did not come up.

Throughout the past few seasons, this team has truly mimicked the citizens of this city, with toughness, catch phrases, and with the simple fact that a job has to be done, even if no one is paying attention. And when the goal is achieved, it's time to move on, create and do more. From uptown to downtown, from the Visions on Downman Road to Terrytown, Marrero, and Harvey, the city that I know and love finally has a symbol, and a unifying subject. Wherever you live, whatever you do, and whoever you are, you have something that they cannot take away. You have history in a positive way. You have history that is not corruption, or flooding, or poverty, or murder, or oil. For one day, the whole world had to look down south and tip their hat. You were the best at what you do, and that cannot be denied or taken away.

Now I am sure that this last little part will piss a lot of people off, but someone needs to say something. It's "Who Dat?" Not, "Who Dat?!" Its short for a taunt, not a chant, as in, "Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints?" As in, "who is proclaiming that they will beat our football team?" Not "We Dat!" That just says "We (as in the fans) are the ones to beat the Saints." And it's certainly not "Drew Dat!" That just says that it's Drew Brees is the one to beat the Saints, and he, as Superbowl MVP, is obviously not one of the former quarterbacks who actually did beat the Saints. He's the reason why we got where we did as a franchise. It is not a call and response, it's, just a call. Leave it as "Who Dat?" There is no response. I beg fans to leave it at just "Who Dat?" and nothing else. Please act like you have followed the team since before 2006, and if you are a new fan, welcome, but be aware of the past. It is by far easier to go from 13-3 to 3-13 than the other way around.

With that said, we have started back to back seasons 2-0 for the first time in franchise history, but the work is not done yet. I have that feeling again, as the black and gold take the field. I tried to clear my head, but all I can think about is Sundays.

Oh Lord I Want To Be In That Number

On Saturday, the sun refused to shine, and the saints went marching in. Well, one step closer at least.

Never in my life would I have ever assumed that the NFC championship game would be played in my back yard, in the ole rotten egg, as we used to call it. After all, we would have to wait for other teams to come play to actually watch a decent game. Super Bowls and Sugar Bowls, Tulane football and LSU championships. The truck and tractor pulls were a favorite of mine as a kid, and I even got to play a little baseball in the Dome, when it was converted for the Tulane/ UNO classic. High School football and sold out concerts were the marquee events, never the Saints.

I used to hear that the Dome was built on an ancient Indian burial ground. Then it was nuclear waste. What about a nuclear waste site built on top of an ancient Indian burial ground, with our beloved Superdome resting on top? There were voodoo curses, with snake charmers and thieves, and gypsy queens ruining our chances for playoff bliss. A thousand reasons why the Saints could never pull it off.

And then the storm came, and washed everything clean.

The waters came, and sent our city, and its football team far, far away. The water rose, and washed away the voodoo curses and the gypsies. The water washed away doubt and negativity, and most of all, washed away excuses.

Then the water receded, and with it came a new beginning. It gave a bunch of "has-beens" a second chance, and the "never will be" got their chance to shine. It was fine tuned and tweaked, until everything just fit into place. Now the Saints, from the seemingly forgotten city of New Orleans, will be playing for the NFC crown. The small market team has a flashy offense, and an above average defense, although not quite the 'Dome Patrol' but still better than most.

New Orleans is on the national news for good reasons- not murder, corruption, or failing levee systems. Its not about a sex scandal, or frozen stacks of cash, even if it is the money ole Dolla Bill could be saving if he switched to Geico. Its about football- a game. The very same that kids play on the neutral ground, and adults play in the park on saturday, with makeshift flags tied around their waists. The difference is, this year its black and gold football. Its about confidence. Its about swagger. In 2006, I had my fingers crossed, in absolute shock that the Saints were doing that well. Now its Reggie Bush, bringing the wood, and 68,000 people screaming at the top of their lungs, "I told you that boy was gonna bust loose, I told you Reggie was that good!" As if Thomas himself had never had a nickname, and believed all along.

The winds of change have shifted directions. For once its not the Saints missing game winning field goals, or getting blown out early, making sundays a two quarter affair instead of four. Its about pre-game chants, and randomly hearing "Who Dat?" walking down the street on a tuesday in January. In late January. The conversations have turned from talks about 'Mr. Go' to 'Go Pierre Go!', from 'Who will replace Nagin' to 'Our next mayor should wear #9.'

In just a few days, Brett Favre will join his friend Kurt Warner on a sandy beach, sippin on a cocktail, and wondering what could have been. Wondering how those boys in black and gold shipped them both off to retirement looking at empty gaps where rings normally go. They expected to win, and the Saints were expected to loose. The winds of change certainly have come through New Orleans.

This Sunday, the forecast calls for rain once agin, and I am perfectly fine with that. Let the sun refuse to shine on our Superdome, because I can tell you where the sun does shine- Miami. And that, my friends, is where the Saints will go marching in.

Saints Sunday

It has been a few days since the Saints comeback win against the Dolphins, and everyone has had some time to digest what happened. Besides one of the better, if not the best New Orleans sporting comebacks of all time, it was a pretty good sports day overall. The Vikings V Steelers game was interesting, which led to the Saints game, and ended with game 6 of the ALCS. I actually watched FOX all day and didn't see any animals attacking (besides Shockey), didn't see any white trash women drunkenly fighting over their 'man' (besides Shockey), or any of the other stellar programming FOX normally airs. To really soak it all in, lets travel through some of the finer points of the day.

First, the Vikings and Steelers game. I don't really care that much about either team, other than I don't like Brett Favre, and I don't like him to the point where I want to see him fail. I used to like him, and like him a lot. Its just that I am so sick of hearing about retiring, not retiring, then wanting vengeance, but its not about the packers, and can he last a season, he was hurt last year, blah blah blah. Enough already. Its bad enough that they made it seem like the second coming of Jesus came on Monday Night Football, and our new savior beat the romans (the packers) into submission. (Side note- I think the Packers could have won if they kept Aaron Rodgers on his feet, and blocked Jared Allen a little. Just look at the numbers). Once an athlete becomes ESPN's boyfriend, I start to get sick of him, and Favre is at the top of the list.

Anyway, on the last interception he threw that cost them the game, Favre was running down the field to make a tackle, only he kinda flopped to his knees and rolled over like an old dog. It was really funny to watch, and FOX kept showing it over and over, but ESPN didn't. Not once. I guess they didn't want to offend their boyfriend, and just blamed it on that guy who should have caught the ball, but didn't. See how important that is? I cant even remember his name. Moving on. (Read- too lazy to do a Google search so I don't sound like a moron).

The Saints game was quite spectacular, and everyone in their right mind should have been watching the game. Monday morning brought talk of how great Drew Brees is, or how Colston looked shaky, or how Shockey is an absolute beast. All of these things are true, but as normal, I came away with a different perspective.

In his post game press conference, Drew Brees was asked about celebrating his second touchdown by 'dunking' the football over the goalpost, an amazing feat for such a short quarterback. He said he felt like he needed to inspire the team then, and thats what he thought of first. Those that watched the game know that this is simply not true. On his first rushing touchdown, Drew spiked the ball in the end zone, quite possibly the worst and most girly spike of all time. It was horrible. It almost looked like he wanted to place the ball on the ground, just did it REALLY HARD. I think he was surprised to see it bounce up. You know he had to make up for it, and you know he was getting razzed in the locker room at halftime. I have a good feeling that Brees went up to Peyton and said something to the effect of, "You gotta let me make it up for that horrible spike-like thing I did back there...I'm not used to scoring that way..."

Im sure Peyton gave in to his star player because most of his attention was focused on trying to explain to Reggie Bush which way to run when he gets the ball. I imagine its similar to teaching a puppy how to use the bathroom outside. Lots of positive reinforcement, repetition of actions, and treats. This was highlighted by one of the few rushes Reggie had where he actually ran down the field (not the superman leap for a touchdown where he still got to run 15 yards in the wrong direction). Bush was running, and went about six or seven yards before he started that left-right, crappy dance move he does. In this case, instead of dancing around and eventually losing yardage, he was tackled- by his own player, Thomas. Look at the tape. Its like Thomas was watching the play, was happy Reggie was running down field, but once he saw him dancing, he knew he had to end it right there, and set him back on track, so he tackled him. Rub his face in it so he knows he did something bad.

Lets jump forward in the night just a little bit, to the local FOX news programming. I NEVER watch the news, but in this case, it was hoping for some intelligent insight like Jim Henderson does for WWL, or at least some local flavor. Being the stellar news show that only a FOX affiliate can afford, they showed the fans lined up at the airport to cheer the victorious Saints upon their arrival back to the city. Heart worming, right? What a great story, right? WRONG. As soon as players starting driving through the crowds, stopping for an autograph, some cheers, or the occasional high five, some nasty lady opens her sweatshirt, and the player signs her breast. Not a big deal? It looked like there were only 20-30 people out there at that late hour, most of which were parents with their kids, and one very unattractive woman whom I'm almost positive hasn't bathed since sunday, and has shown just about everyone her autograph. Welcome to New Orleans, you're on TV: show some boobs. The only good that can come out of this is that the guy wasn't a player, but is just some guy driving home, saw a boob, and signed it. I think it would be funny if she was showing off her brush with fame, and someone said, "Who is Larry McCormack?? I don't think he is a player." I'd like to see her face then.

After all that, I still managed to watch the interview with Saints legend Rickey Jackson, who doesn't know how to tie a tie, make a complete thought on subject about the Saints, or breathe without wheezing. Probably not the best to have on live TV, but oh well. Don't get me wrong here, I love Rickey- I grew up on those saints, with the 'Dome Patrol'. That was before Jim Mora went nuts and said diddley-poop, before Jeff Blake got hurt and Aaron Brooks got our hopes up, before Haslett and Ditka, and before Heisman Trophy winner Danny Weurffel was crawling around the field with his helmet turned around backwards. That was before Kerry 'Vodka' Collins got good, before Joe Horn was sleeping with Willie Roaf's wife, when Jim Everett HATED being called Chris Everett, when Gumbo was a real dog, and Fetch Monster got the tees after kickoffs. Im just thinking another person might have interviewed better. Or, successfully dressed themselves.

This all came on a day when the Patriots played in LONDON, and Steve Phillips officially got fired from ESPN for hooking up with an intern (which is why he got fired from the mets and Im sure he will join Howard Renolds on MLBTV as ex-ESPN creepy intern fornicators). Then Mark McGuire, Mr. Steroid-in denial himself, was announced as the next Cardinals hitting coach. Thats laughable, because after all, he doesn't want to talk about the past. Not to mention that A-Rod hit over .400 in the ALCS, and finally was the stud they pay him to be, yet he DOESN'T win the MVP. Personally shocked. To top it all off, there was some movie called 'Zombie Strippers' on cable. Were in an economic recession, but we can still afford to make a straight to TV movie about undead strippers and the men who pay to see it. I just don't get it.

All I can think about now is how nice the weather in Miami will be come February, and how to get down there. I might look up that guy Larry McCormack and see if he has any connections. Icicles in Hell are starting to form, boys and girls, and hopefully by February it will have frozen over.

In The Beginning...

This is the start of what will hopefully be a decent collection of my random thoughts and ideas, as i have been prompted to record through a friend of mine. I have crushed what was left of a decent memory over the years, so i will try to be as accurate as I possibly can with the stories and thoughts that occur throughout my days.

Apparently I have a unique way of looking at the world, and think differently than most of mainstream america does, and the evidence will be recorded here. We shall see how this goes.

Buyer beware- the shift key for proper capitalization seems to escape me at times, but the grammar is not the point here- its actually the content. The names will not be changed to protect the innocent, as the innocent rarely make headlines. Thank god for auto spellcheck.

The basic values that encapsulate me are quite simple- I go to work, quite often as you will see, I watch sports, mainly baseball and football, and generally try to squeak by without drowning. I am sarcastic, and angered by stupidity. I don't like to talk about politics, but every so often it creeps into conversation, due to my hatred for stupidity. I don't follow any one organized religion, but like what they have to say and offer, and will often criticize and argue silly outdated ideas they still try to push off as current topics. (Read- former Catholic).

Let the games begin...