Who Dat fever: Riding the bandwagon with no remorse

Edited version: I missed an “I.” It’s XLIV instead of XLV. And 44 instead of 45. But what’s a year or two among good Romans? And, if there happens to be any Indianapolis  fans out there, here is a little tune to get stuck in your head while the Saints are winning.

This year, unlike many years before, I am pumped up about the Super Bowl.

What is this, the 42nd National Football League championship, or XLIVif you like the NFL’s Roman numeral version? I am sure there is some reason why the NFL has used Roman numerals all these years, but I don’t know why and don’t care. I just know that I probably haven’t really looked forward to watching the Super Bowl — for football and not the commercials — since probably No. XX. That was when Mike Ditka’s wacky bunch of Chicago bears, including Jim McMahon and William “Refrigerator” Perry as well as superb running back Walter “Sweetness” Payton played and beat New England.

There is some irony in that particular game as it relates to XLIV. That game was played in the Louisiana Superdome, home of NFC champs the Saints. Also, the Bears’ defensive coach, who said that the team had wasted its draft pick earlier that year on “The Fridge” Perry, was none other than Buddy Ryan, whose son, Rex, was head coach of AFC championship loser New York Jets. Buddy Ryan is a whole ‘nother story in itself. All the ties are like playing Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, only its not.

Wonder if the referees stopped at Best Buy in Beaumont on the way to Miami?

But yeah, I plan to be in front of the TV starting about 1 p.m. Sunday to catch all the hype leading up to the game. That is because of the New Orleans Saints. I suppose I have been rooting for the Saints since they returned to play in the Superdome after the devastating Hurricane Katrina. I know that isn’t being a fan for very long in their 40-something year history, but after all, they really sucked for so many years.

That sounds rude, I know. But I am not the only one on the Saints’ bandwagon who is riding along and doesn’t, frankly my dear, give a damn what anyone says.

I saw the evacuees from Katrina pouring across the Texas line into my area of Southeast Texas. Then, they had to evacuate once more as Hurricane Rita pounded just about the easternmost fourth of Texas. Even though I was 80 miles away from the Gulf during Rita, it was “hurricaning” outside. Then came Hurricane Humberto in 2007, which I slept through. Next was Hurricane Ike the following year which I watched for most of the night as it whipped through Beaumont.

Fortunately, I didn’t suffer much from any of those storms except for the lack of electricity for a number of days. But my neighbors in Southeast Texas  and Southwest Louisiana did, some greatly. So you might say my cheering on the long-suffering Saints was a matter of “hurricane-related empathy.”

It is going to be a more difficult task to root for the Saints too, because they are playing the Indianapolis Colts. I like them as well. Or rather, I like Peyton Manning, who many think IS the Colts. But I will not have near the difficulty in loyalty that Manning’s family will. Dad Archie, of course, was the Saints quarterback in the bad old days. Thus, Giants quarterback and Peyton’s brother Eli, and non-pro football brother Cooper, all have ties to the Saints. So did Petyon. Rick Reilly, the ESPN Magazine scribe who is without a doubt one of the best sportswriters around these days, wrote a piece on ESPN.com the other day about the Manning family’s dilemma. It sounds damn near excrutiating, not only because of their family ties to New Orleans and the Saints, but because of what it means for the Saints to be playing in the Super Bowl after years of failure and then Katrina.

“In summary,” wrote Reilly, “you must either have had your heart removed by corn tongs or be in the Manning family if you’re not pulling for the Saints.”

I couldn’t agree more.

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