It seems that the dream of Drew Brees humiliating Roger Goodell on the trophy podium in February is near-universal among Saints fans. SaintsWin is the latest to give voice to it, but he won’t be the last. Hell, even if the Saints go 4-12 and Roger hands the trophy to Ryan Kalil, we’ll still be talking about how epic it would have been if it had all gone down as we planned. We weren’t wrong; God was just delinquent.
Because there’s something that Goodell, the media, and every other fan base simply doesn’t get. With all the talk about Bountygate fostering an “us against the world” mentality, they don’t understand that in New Orleans there has always been an us against the world mentality.
New Orleans is like that kid who realizes by the third grade that nobody thinks like he does: nobody else likes to eat peanut butter on his cereal, wear flip-flops in winter, read medieval French poetry even though he doesn’t speak French. New Orleans is out there, and always has been. And knows it. And loves it. People from the Crescent City routinely consider themselves New Orleanians first, Americans second, Southerners only by geographical accident (which, however, doesn’t mean we despise Yankees any less than our more Baptist neighbors).
“Us against the world” is almost a synonym for New Orleans.
And what fan base has been dragged through more than us? A child born in Touro on All Saints Day 1966 would be eligible for the presidency by the time the Saints graduated from clown suits. Even then, the rest of the nation thought the Saints won a Super Bowl based on the power of cuteness, the “Awwwww…” factor of a beleaguered city finally being allowed entry into the inner circle. The fact that we kicked the damn door in frankly escaped everyone. And since then, we’ve been rude enough to behave as though we owned the place. Da noive.
So when the media debates over the motivational power of “us against the world,” and questions whether or not it’s a powerful enough factor to help propel the Saints to another championship, what they miss is this: we’re in our comfort zone. Adversity? To us, that’s like a recliner.
Of course, not every Saints fan is from New Orleans, poor souls. But still, through their fanhood, they carry the city in their hearts—or a small avatar of it, at least. And that’s a lot better than saying, “I defy the winds of fashion and the blows of fate…come what may, I make my stand with…Charlotte!” Or Atlanta. Or Tampa. Or any other city whose inhabitants periodically come to New Orleans to regain the sense that they’re actually still alive. (Like Asheville? Yeah, like Asheville: I write from experience.) Saints fans—especially long-time Saints fans—have absorbed the attitude of the city itself: they celebrate when the team wins, and when the team loses they punch the wall, then they go out and celebrate. They’d rather wear a Jason David jersey than be Roger Goodell (that may be taking things too far…maybe we need a poll on this).
So, yeah. “Us against the world”? Sounds like the beginning of every season to us. We got no problem. It’s you that has a problem: how are you going to stop us? My recommendation to the rest of the NFL is this: after about mid-season, start fasting. Because that sound you hear is your assholes slamming shut.
Not that it will do you any good. We’re changing the name of February to “Bendover.” The day of reckoning is the 3rd of Bendover, 2013. Ya’ll are all invited.
On the Jukebox
Not too many people realize it, but our team’s theme song is meant to be taken as a prophecy. And it’s really old.