On October 1, 2011, the Jacksonville Jaguars were 8-0 against the NFC South. Then came October 2, 2011…
The New Orleans Saints rolled into Jacksonville being heavily favored to win against one of the sorriest teams in the league. Those are the games that scare me most. It’s not because the Saints don’t have what it takes to win. I know what my team is capable of. What frightens me is that I’m never sure what road they’ll have me travel as a fan whilst I watch them play to the level of their sorry ass opponent.
Early on in the game, with the Saints opening up a 14-0 can of whip-ass on Florida’s least popular team (Sorry, Mike!)*, I felt like we’d be getting the “unofficial bye week” we Saints fans so desperately needed coming off that Texans scare. But when the Jaguars came back, I wondered just what the Saints might have up their sleeves to make this game entertaining. Would my quarterback throw a bunch of interceptions? Would the defense give up a bunch of yardage? Would Reggie Bush fumble a punt return that should have been a fair catch to begin with???
After a few deep breaths into a brown paper bag, I realized the Reggie Bush situation was no longer my concern. I also realized that these were the Jacksonville Jaguars and I had Drew Brees as my quarterback and even if he did throw a few picks and even if my defense is a little suspect, the Saints were going to win this game. This wasn’t the Saints team of the Aaron Brooks era that allowed the infamous “River City Relay”. This was a team that won a Super Bowl!
It suddenly dawned upon me that the Jaguars weren’t trying to catch my team slipping. They were trying to catch ME sleeping! They wanted me to forget who was under center. They wanted me to lose sight of the power of that Red-Headed Monster known as Jimmy Graham. They wanted me to resist the urge to stand-up in a quiet bar and yell “Black & Sproles to da Supa-bowl!” But sorry, Jags. It ain’t happening. Not on my watch!
I never lost my cool during this one. I drank my Sweetwater 420 beers in that Atlanta bar with a lack of suspicion, weary, fear or dread. These were MY Saints. This was OUR time. And no stinkin’ team with a rookie QB and bad karma was going to beat MY Saints.
Can I go off about Drew Brees for a second???
DID YOU SEE THAT? It was in the 4th quarter (I think…the liquor has already taken over) and some Jaguars defender had his nurtz all up in Drew Brees’ grill. And Drew was like, “Get off me!” And then, he pushed dude. And then, he got all 7th ward with it and seemed just about ready to punch dude in the face. He wasn’t “Purdue Drew”, He was “Nola Drew”, And I loved him! I wanted to have this Drew’s babies. (Don’t worry, Brittany. I mean that in the most non-sexual way possible.)
Final point in this rambling buffet of alcohol induced thoughts: I love my Saints. We are a team of poise and confidence. We won’t get caught slipping. It was our year in 2009 and it’s our year now. I have one message for the Green Bay Packers. Watch the throne!
*Mike H. is Nola Chick’s long time beau and a resident hottie, who just so happens to be a native of Jacksonville, FL. Thankfully, with the love and support of Nola Chick, he is now a card-carrying member of the Who Dat Nation.