Game Day Report

I’m more black and blue than Deuce McAllister.  David pounded on me the whole game, forgetting that a high five requires an opposing hand, not a whole body that just happens to be handy.

 

I feel like I was at the loudest rock concert ever - like Buddy Diliberto had come back as Elvis for one last concert.  Now I understand why the Beatles decided never to play another concert when they said they just didn’t think anyone could hear their music over the screaming anymore.  My ears are still ringing and I feel like Pete Townsend.

 

We watched as:

• Deuce ran like his Super Bowl ring was waiting in the end zone.
• Favorable fate intervened twice for the Saints for a change, in the person of punter Steve Weatherford, who turned a sure block into a first down, and Terrance Copper, who recovered a fumble for a first down.  Breaks we’re just not used to. 
• The Saints withstood the inevitable Stallworth revenge touchdown and watched incredulously as he continued to play. 
• The Saints, who were not at their best, still played well and found a way to beat a team with a great coach, a great running back, and a great QB.  We thought Garcia was awesome.  But the Saints played all 60 minutes. 
• Scott Fujita made a defensive play for the ages.  Often a season, even a career, turns on one play and this may have been it.  Would the Patriots be where they are without the “tuck rule” play, and would Cowher have retired a hero if Roethlisberger doesn’t make his game-saving tackle last year after Bettis fumbles?
• The crowd left.  Finally.  About 20 minutes after the game was over.  We stayed 'til the last drop – til we had drained every bit of the atmosphere and squeezed every drop of the thrill out of this unbelievable building

I couldn’t help but think as I looked around the emptying dome that hopefully Tom Benson will restrain himself and act like the Red Sox and Cubs.  There are some great baseball parks in America but there are only two monuments – Wrigley and Fenway.  The Louisiana Superdome, although much younger, is becoming that kind of building. 

 

Sure, it’s short on amenities – but it’s long on history. – an incredible history of not just figurative blood sweat and tears – but real ones.  It has rebounded from real human heartache to become a symbol of rebirth.  First, a football team, and ultimately a city.

 

It’s short on revenue, especially the luxury box kind, but long on atmosphere.  In that stadium I’ve attended  Sugar Bowls, Super Bowls, Saints games, other sports – some memorable – some forgettable, and way too many of them where my team scored not enough.

 

So, it’s short on victories – but maybe that damn storm signified a change.  Winning streaks and winning seasons can ignite incredible goodwill.  They can even unite a battered populace.  And home wins are the best.  Especially when they easily flow into the local party gras, a little secret called Bourbon Street.

 

The Saints won the biggest game in their history for the right to play the biggest game in their history.  They will have to do it without the unleashed hysteria of their home dome advantage, but just because they won’t be able to hear our hysteria doesn’t mean it isn’t there.  They’ll just have to imagine it.

 

 

As usual, we'll be watching and eating.  Menu TBD.  RSVP and I'll let you know what to bring.  Hopefully this time next week I'll be sending out an APB for Super Bowl Tickets.