Hell Froze Over

Growing up in New Orleans automatically makes you special. In fact, I'll go ahead and throw this out there - New Orleans IS THE MOST special city in the country...and dare I say...the world? There is no denying it. People who have grown up here can enjoy another city for a few days, but eventually the bland food and dry air will make them stare longingly out the window and dream of arriving home.

People who have lived here at one time and have moved on will take the city with them through the rest of their lives. No matter where they live or where they call home, they will speak of and write of and dream of New Orleans and miss "home". What other city can be destroyed over and over again...from the same type of natural disaster and the same people, the same families rebuild it over and over again and never once consider leaving it?

There is no other city in the world that sparks as much interest in strangers as saying you are from New Orleans. Stand in a room of 100 people, all from different cities in the world and inevitably when the 100 find out that you are from New Orleans, you will immediately become the topic of conversation.

New Orleans is so much more than stupid poor people standing on roof tops waiting to be saved. It is so much more than Mardi Gras. So much more.

The exaggerated notion you've learned of New Orleans from movies and television is hilarious. Only tourists show their boobs. This is fact. There aren't swamps around every corner and the picture of cypress trees that inevitably starts off any story about New Orleans is untrue...although...I DO have a cypress tree in my backyard.

To be a Saints fan has always meant that you are a loser. You have very low expectations as a Saints fan. You don't hope for much. A win here and there is all we've ever asked for. As losers, the Saints have the most ridiculously faithful fanbase in the nation. The Saints have never earned our devotion. They've never deserved our time or our money. But yet we are eternally devoted and even during the Mike Ditka days (oh the horror), the Saints sold an unusually high number of season tickets for such a suck ass team and sold an unusually high amount of merchandise.

Saints fans are intense. My bipolar father was actually banned from watching the Saints for 5 years by his therapist due the extreme amount of stress/disappointment/depression that it caused being a Saints fan.

How many other teams have fans so dedicated that there are volumes of music created for and created about their football team. If you took every song ever written for and about the Saints, you would need at least 3 full length CD's. What other team has fans like that?

I was in the Dome on September 25th, 2006 when the Superdome reopened and the Saints hosted their first home game since Hurricane Katrina against the Atlanta Falcons. I get the chills just thinking of it. We cried. We screamed. We hugged strangers in that game. We stood in a dome that no regular citizen had seen since the horrifying images on TV of dead bodies lying on the ground, water raining in, murders occurring over crackers. It was remarkable.

There are men like my father who have been faithful to the Saints for the full 43 years. Myself? I can only claim 32 of those. I was born at 4:51pm on a Sunday in 1977. A football Sunday in October. The Saints played while my dad waited in the waiting room for me to be born. And of course...the Saints? They lost.

And so when in the 4th quarter Porter intercepted that ball and ran over 70 yards to gain a 14 point lead over the Colts, Ziggy and I stared at each other in absolute and total disbelief and I said, "Ziggy, did the Saint just win the mother fucking superbowl?" And we stared at the TV for about 60 very long seconds until it sunk in.

THE SAINTS WON THE MOTHER FUCKING SUPERBOWL!

We threw a jacket on the baby and set off fireworks in the street along with thousands of other people. Cops threw on their sirens. People screamed. Car alarms were purposely set off. Strangers screamed cheers at each other. Unknown neighbors became friends.

It will, hands down, go down as one of the most memorable days of my life. And in the words of my father, in a cracked shaky voice, he said, "Baby girl, it looks like I can die right this second and die a happy man."

Congrats to the New Orleans Saints and to all of her fans - the faithful, the loyal, the steadfast, the believers...this one is for us. Our moment. Our time. It may never happen again and that is fine by us because even at the age of 80, my 9 year old son WILL remember the night that his Saints won the Super Bowl.