During the New Orleans Saints’ ill-fated march through the playoffs, national media dove into a story about the team’s unique relationship with its city and fans. But as when a chef from outside Louisiana makes jambalaya or gumbo, the flavor of such stories can be a bit off.
Many teams have enthusiastic and even fierce fan support. Others may consider their teams an integral part of their city’s identity. But no city’s fans combine whimsy, wildness, and an almost desperate love for their team the way fans in New Orleans do.
To really understand this, maybe you had to be listening to the radio the day Tom Dempsey, kicking with half a foot, made his game-winning and record-setting 63-yard field goal. Radio listeners missed the play because a swarm of bees invaded the transmitter just as the ball was snapped.
Maybe you had to be watching as marble-mouthed sportscaster Buddy Diliberto jumped into an icy January hotel pool in a tuxedo because he lost a bet with former Saint Steve Stonebreaker (what a name!) that the Saints would win no more than three games one season. (They won four.)
Maybe you had to be there when the “bagheads” came out during the 1-and-15 season, supposedly hiding their identities in embarrassment. The real story was that these fans showed up at all. You had to be there when they had players named Wimpy Winther, Joe Don Looney, and Happy Feller. The stories go on forever.
When Hurricane Katrina left many wondering if the city itself would ever recover, it was the Saints that provided the rallying point for a triumphant rejuvenation.
What needs to be understood is that New Orleanians, knowing that their way of life six feet below sea level is an historical and topographical miracle, embrace failures and fickle fates as well as triumphs.
When original starting quarterback Billy Kilmer would go to bars on Sunday nights, fans invariably would call him over, saying, “Hey, Billy, I booed you all game long. How ‘bout I buy you a beer or three?”
So if any city would ever forget something like a game-changing noncall in the NFC title game, allowing Rams cornerback Nickell Robey-Coleman to get away with a blatant pass interference on the Saints’ last drive, it’s some other town, not New Orleans.
The image of Robey-Coleman leveling receiver Tommylee Lewis long before the pass arrived will be burned in the minds of Saints fans forever. And as with any great moment of Saints pain or triumph, the anger here hit all corners of the city. Two Saints season ticket holders are even suing the NFL commissioner.
If you left New Orleans by car Sunday night, as you got on the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway, the highway sign read simply, “WE WERE ROBBED.”
