The Saints Are Coming

If anyone had told me two years ago that I’d be in such a state over football at ANY time in my life, I would have laughed in their face. After all, football was for those big Bubbas I grew up with in Mississippi. I’m more cerebral than that. Not anymore. Apparently the new “normal” here in New Orleans has included for me, at least, a shift to maniacal Saints fan mode. “Fan” just seems too tame a word to describe the thrill I get at each win. The tears just watching the game in my living room. The high I get seeing the 6 Elvises or Moses or even the “F*&@k Da Eagles” girl splash across the screen of my new HD T.V. Just when I think I’ve had all I can stand of this place. When I think that the real New Orleans is gone forever. The murder rate, the stupidity of our so-called leaders, I watch a Saints game and my heart almost bursts with joy at the team, the fans, the general wonderfulness of this place and its people. Never in my life would I have believed that I would actually know the names of most of the Saints players, let alone keep track of every play, every penalty. I even own Saints clothing to wear to work on the Fridays before football games. I have Saints earrings for God’s sake! I ordered a black and gold sparkly turtle neck! It feels like so much more than just a football game. The Saints ARE this city. They represents our indomitable spirit. Our joy at life. Our sense of humor. And if they kick some ass at the same time…well, so be it.