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.