By Ronald N. Guy Jr.
Admittedly, the “bleachers” from where I typically provide
my “views” are often no more exotic a location than my couch. This week though my derriere graced the cold
metal seats of an actual stadium and I witnessed a live sporting event for the
first time in years (look, I have two young kids…I don’t get out much). When I received the gracious offer to join
my cousin and fellow domestic superman at FedEx Field, the first Skins game
I’ve attended since the Spurrier era (or was it a circus?), my immediate
curiosity was assessing the state of ‘Skins nation. My beloved team has been in something of an organizational
meltdown this season and just a few weeks ago the fan base seemed poised to bum
rush ‘Skins headquarters to claim a pound of flesh and overthrow the current
regime. What I found though was a
calmer, gentler crowd; a fan base apparently accepting of another lost season
and one pleased with the team’s recent improvement. And interestingly enough, on the way to the game, I passed a
number of cars whose inhabitants were, judging from the burgundy and gold garb,
headed to the same place I was (don’t worry, I wasn’t speeding…it was
“research”). It was nice to see that
fan support from Southern Maryland was exactly as I remembered it.
Secondary to catching a ‘Skins game and getting a few
precious hours to decompress from the domestic grind with an old friend, I was
looking forward to watching the ‘Skins opponent that day: the undefeated New
Orleans Saints. The Saints appear to be
having one of those magic carpet ride type of seasons. Offensively they’re something of a football
version of a pinball machine. Behind
maestro QB Drew Brees, they average 36 points/game in a wildly entertaining and
flawlessly orchestrated offensive symphony.
But…coming off a huge win over the Patriots the prior Monday night and
facing a nondescript opponent in the then 3-8 ‘Skins, the Saints were
understandably sluggish. Meanwhile, the
home team played well and had nothing short of an out of body experience
offensively. Despite leading nearly
wire-to-wire, the ‘Skins eventually lost 33-30, in overtime, after a series of
bizarre events that included a missed chip shot field (by a kicker who is now
contributing to the nation’s unemployment rate), a dubious replay reversal and
a Saints wide receiver scoring a touchdown after he stole the ball from a
‘Skins defensive back who seconds earlier had intercepted a Brees pass. For ‘Skins fans it was insult to injury and
enough bad karma to enrage even the most emotionally detached fan. Surprisingly though, I was not only far from
enraged, I wasn’t the least bit agitated.
After witnessing the Saints win with a combination of timely
big plays and ridiculous good fortune, one had to wonder if something bigger
was in play. Goodness knows the ‘Skins
have had seasons like this; seasons where you get the calls, the bounces and
the injury bug rarely bites. Don’t get
me wrong, the Saints are good – certainly far superior to the ‘Skins – but
there’s just a special vibe around this group of canonized football
players. And you know what, good for
them and their fans because no city deserves it more. New Orleans has known a hell on earth few of us have or ever
will. Katrina brought this cultural gem
of a city to her knees. While she’s
gotten back to her feet, she isn’t yet standing as erect or as proud as she
once did. If a run by the Saints to the
Superbowl serves to swell civic pride, remind us all of the work left to do
there and ease life ever so slightly in The Big Easy, well that’s something we
can all root for. Four years ago the
Saints’ home, the Superdome, was a hurricane-scarred building serving as a
shelter for displaced residents. This
January it could host the NFC Championship game and catapult the Saints to the
Superbowl. I sure hope it does. This year, with no apologies to the Cowboys,
the Saints are America’s team.
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