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.