Two weeks ago was a cold day in Hell. Tonight it's 40 below.
In retrospect the Colts never had a chance. Oh, it looked like they had things well in hand in the first half of the game, but that was just to keep people watching. The Saints have been a 'team of destiny' the whole season, and that wasn't about to end on Super Bowl Sunday. The team from Indianapolis wasn't just playing against the men on the field, but the whole population of the Who Dat Nation.
Those fans are spread across the globe, and, from what I hear, even hold positions in the Vatican. I didn't see any Colts colors in the pews at morning mass, but I was proud to see people attending in jerseys and t-shirts matching those my family of 3 were wearing. According to sources who witnessed it, the priest in Egan, LA stood before his flock - and removed his robes. Beneath his vestments was a shirt revealing where his loyalties lay, and a horseshoe was nowhere near it. He delivered his entire homily, proudly displaying his fleur-de-lis, and re-robed before performing the rest of the mass.
I read a tweet this week that said, "Unless you're from Indianapolis, if you aren't pulling for the Saints, you have no heart." That could be a little strong, but this country loves an underdog, and the Saints were mainly given lip-service when discussing their chances for the win.
I'm too young to remember the Archie Manning years, but realized in the last two weeks that it doesn't matter. This is the Drew Brees era, and I count myself lucky to play witness to the Manning of my generation. It is a story that will grow into legend. A man who was injured and looking to rebuild joins a team in a city that is broken and looking to rebuild. In the process he realizes why God's hand has led him to this point in his life. He has come to New Orleans to give the people of the city hope. Not the empty hope for a 'change' that others have promised in recent years, but true hope that the impossible is just a word in a dictionary.
The residents of the Crescent City have a symbiotic relationship with the team, and this accomplishment will give them a surge of energy that will do more for bringing the city back, better than ever, than anything the federal government could ever offer. It's a spiritual energy that will sustain itself with each rebuilt home and life.
On Sunday night the streets of the city were nearly empty. Everyone had a line-of-sight position near a television screen to watch the miracle unfold, and when it was over they flooded the streets in a torrent of good will and happiness to begin a party that won't stop until midnight on Ash Wednesday. Sober or drunk, old men wept like babies and kisses and hugs were shared among the married and the single, along with the gay and the straight.
Tonight it doesn't matter, and there's nothing wrong with that.
Showing posts with label Who Dat Nation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Who Dat Nation. Show all posts
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
WHO DAT!
These two words will be repeated a lot during the next couple of weeks, for good reason.
Tonight the New Orleans Saints won the NFC Championship, which means they've won 50% of the games they've played at this level. Not a bad record. To be cliche about it, with this win they've punched their ticket to Super Bowl XLIV in Miami.
It was an ugly game on Sunday night in the Superdome, and I'm sure more than a few follicles of hair across the Who Dat Nation were either torn out or faded to grey as the seconds counted down in the fourth quarter. Had the offense played to the level fans had come to expect, it would have been a blow out, like last week's game, but that wasn't quite the story. Thankfully the defense came through, proving the axiom oft repeated by coaches, "Offense wins games, Defense wins championships."
Then Overtime began and an entire city and state held its collective breath, only releasing it, during the booth reviews, in prayers that the drive would continue. When the final review put them within field goal range, one kick brought to life the dreams of over 40 years of black and gold fans, and their cries of joy lifted the roof off the 'Dome.
I didn't see it. For the whole season I've either been working or otherwise occupied when the Saints were playing. The one game I got to see kickoff became their first loss of the season, and Drew Brees' worst performance. I decided to ensure that I wouldn't see today's kickoff by attending the Life Teen mass at St. Anne's. We weren't the only Who Dat's in the congregation, which actually surprised me a little; I would have thought all the others would be watching the game.
After dinner I was torn about watching. I couldn't resist, and thought I'd have to leave the house when Reggie Bush muffed a punt, and the Vikings recovered it near the end zone. I kept watching, to see them score to punish myself, and thought my fortunes had reversed when they forced a turnover. From there I couldn't look away until the final seconds of regulation, changing the channel to ice skating and hoping for a miracle I'd only see in replays. It came in the form of a Brett Favre interception, relegating me to pacing from the front door to the kitchen and back again, wondering what was happening, and hoping it was all working out.
When it was all over I got to share in the joy with friends and family, including phone calls to my dad in Cameron and my 92-year-old grandfather in Abbeville. It's such a great feeling to know that he's finally going to see them play in the big game.
Tonight the New Orleans Saints won the NFC Championship, which means they've won 50% of the games they've played at this level. Not a bad record. To be cliche about it, with this win they've punched their ticket to Super Bowl XLIV in Miami.
It was an ugly game on Sunday night in the Superdome, and I'm sure more than a few follicles of hair across the Who Dat Nation were either torn out or faded to grey as the seconds counted down in the fourth quarter. Had the offense played to the level fans had come to expect, it would have been a blow out, like last week's game, but that wasn't quite the story. Thankfully the defense came through, proving the axiom oft repeated by coaches, "Offense wins games, Defense wins championships."
Then Overtime began and an entire city and state held its collective breath, only releasing it, during the booth reviews, in prayers that the drive would continue. When the final review put them within field goal range, one kick brought to life the dreams of over 40 years of black and gold fans, and their cries of joy lifted the roof off the 'Dome.
I didn't see it. For the whole season I've either been working or otherwise occupied when the Saints were playing. The one game I got to see kickoff became their first loss of the season, and Drew Brees' worst performance. I decided to ensure that I wouldn't see today's kickoff by attending the Life Teen mass at St. Anne's. We weren't the only Who Dat's in the congregation, which actually surprised me a little; I would have thought all the others would be watching the game.
After dinner I was torn about watching. I couldn't resist, and thought I'd have to leave the house when Reggie Bush muffed a punt, and the Vikings recovered it near the end zone. I kept watching, to see them score to punish myself, and thought my fortunes had reversed when they forced a turnover. From there I couldn't look away until the final seconds of regulation, changing the channel to ice skating and hoping for a miracle I'd only see in replays. It came in the form of a Brett Favre interception, relegating me to pacing from the front door to the kitchen and back again, wondering what was happening, and hoping it was all working out.
When it was all over I got to share in the joy with friends and family, including phone calls to my dad in Cameron and my 92-year-old grandfather in Abbeville. It's such a great feeling to know that he's finally going to see them play in the big game.
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