Tag Archives: reggie bush punt return
Saints vs. Cardinals Playoff Recap: “I Got Your ‘Rust’ Right Here”
45 points, 2 defensive turnovers, and an explosive running game: I don’t know about you Saints fans, but if that’s what “rust” looks like, then wrap me in metal and drop me in a bucket of water, ’cause I wanna be “rusty” all the way to Miami! In a fervid, emotionally charged Super Dome, the New Orleans Saints chewed up, spit out, and danced on the remains of the Arizona Cardinals. It was a certified ass whoopin’ and it was a long time coming.
Game 5: A Bush Among Thorns
It’s 12:10 am on a Tuesday morning. I come to you today painfully sober and devastatingly aware of what just happened over the course of nearly four emotionally charged hours of Saints football. It is a game that began with me doing a cheerleader high kick in my living room (that I haven’t accomplished since 9th grade) after the Saints scored an easy 7 on their opening drive. Turns out, I’d be the only “old fogey” to come through in the kicking clutch for the Saints tonight. We’ll get to Gra-mendment #1, which calls for the immediate dismissal of Martin Gramatica, in a moment. First…I want to ask one simple question of our offense: what the hell happened to you after the first quarter?
You see it would be easy to lay this game at the feet of “Gramati-can’t”…but the truth of the matter is, he didn’t work alone to get us in a 20-10 hole against a team with less than 50 yards of offense. He had some help in the form of disastrous miscues. Sure his blocked field goal essentially sent 10 points in the direction of the other team. But what about the turnovers, the countless offensive penalties, and the dropped balls? Oh no my friends, “Fartin” didn’t work alone to stink up the place.
On a night when we all held our breath every time Adrian Peterson touched the ball, no one suspected it would be our own offense ultimately giving us the shakes. No matter what the stats say, we couldn’t produce squat that mattered after the first quarter and every opportunity that seemed to put us within reach of the end zone, we squandered by effectively pulling out a 9mm and shooting off our toes one by one before handing our blood soaked foot over to a rabid dog to finish the job. Oh yes…it was a slow and painful kind of misery.
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