Life 2.1 (Let’s Try This Again)

I can’t even begin to describe the atmosphere in the City of New Orleans yesterday and today (and probably tomorrow, right on through til Mardi Gras!) Since the Saints win over the Colts yesterday, there’s been a sense of euphoria throughout the city. The general consensus is that this tops even Mardi Gras as far as crowds and celebrating goes.

Me and the girls from work

I spent the Super Bowl in the French Quarter, which was a wise choice. I work with Blond Colleen (I’m Brunette Colleen obvi) and her boyf and his buddies rented out the entire second story of Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville for a huge Super Bowl party. We all threw in and that got us all we can eat, along with an open bar. It was, by far, the way to go. Not too crowded but definitely full and Blond Colleen’s mom and step dad staked out a table front and center of one of the huge flat screen TVs so we all had a great view of the win.

Mid-Who Dat chant

The game was so fun to watch with everyone. It’s easy to make friends when everyone is a Saint’s fan! It was clear (in our minds) after the pick-six that the Saints had won the Super Bowl and the place erupted in hugs, fist pumps, and in some cases, tears of joy. I don’t think I have ever hugged so many strangers in all my life! People were just hugging anyone near them and jumping up and down!

I met these people at the party

When it became clear that the Saints were going to emerge victorious, I took a little video (after I did my fair share of jumping up and down and high-fiving, that is)

New Orleans Saints win Super Bowl XLIV

Celebratory fist pumps

Blond Colleen and her step dad celebrate the win

After the hugging wound down, we headed to the balcony to see the celebrations going on below. Margaritaville is actually on Decatur so I wasn’t technically on Bourbon (I was about 3 blocks from it). There were cars parading down the street blasting music, horns honking, good-spirited mayhem and everyone was celebrating.

New Orleans Saints win Super Bowl XLIV

Brooke and me on the balcony

It gave new meaning to the song "Dancin' In the Streets"

We did end up heading to Bourbon and the walk among everyone was worth putting up with the crowds. The scene was something I won’t ever forget…walking past people and they want to high-five you at random. People cheering and screaming at random, pockets of people starting Who Dat chants…it was most definitely an experience! The city was full on Black and Gold…as illustrated in the picture of the statue below:

Getting up on the statue was the easy part but I have no idea how they were getting down

Brooke and me heading to the madness that was Bourbon

And now might also be the appropriate time to tell you that on Facebook, there are people who have listed “Drew Breesus” as their religious affiliation. They are hardcore fans.

They call him Drew Breesus

THIS was Bourbon!

I have to say, the Saints win was truly an amazing moment.

My dad used to tape newspaper articles to our refrigerator when my brothers and I were growing up. Articles would appear in the mornings, if he read the paper prior to our getting up for school, or in the evenings, if it was something that crossed his desk while at he was at work. The content of the articles varied from sports tips to social commentary that served as food for thought to those that were meant to entertain. Sometimes there was highlighted text, of which we knew to take special note.

If I had someone who saw my fridge besides myself, I would totally post this article on it. Since I don’t, I’m posting here.

I was appalled today. I was appalled to learn that small business owners (particularly t-shirt shops and the like) in New Orleans have been receiving cease and desist letters from the NFL. Why you ask? Oh please. Let me enlighten you.

Apparently, the NFL says that the use of the words “Who Dat” and the black and gold fleur de lis are trademark infringements. I’m sorry, but are you kidding me?

I haven’t even been living here that long and this makes me so angry. I can’t even imagine the anger swirling around inside those who have been New Orleans Saints fans since the team’s inception in the late 1960s.

I will go ahead and let everyone know that I AM a Saints fan and not just because they are headed to Miami. I never paid much attention to the NFL teams when I lived in California. Growing up, I watched games but never felt akin to any particular team–certainly not the Oakland Raiders, as I’m still bitter about not getting to play certain PE games during gym in middle school because they were using the field for a practice facility. My family, for the most part, were San Francisco 49er fans (there were multiple Halloweens in which my brother donned a red #16 jersey and a gold helmet) but I never followed them closely.

Then I moved to New Orleans in the middle of the season last year and quickly learned that New Orleans (and I think it safe to say the South in general) takes their football very seriously. I went to my first Saints game on December 7, 2008 when they played the Atlanta Falcons in the Superdome and I admit it. I was hooked. The atmosphere was astounding. People who had never met bonded over this team. My last day of work at the winery, I received a black t-shirt with a gold fleur de lis on it and was informed it was mandatory attire and I quickly learned this to be true and anyone wearing black and gold was a friend.

I sat on the edge of my seat (when I was even sitting at all) at the neck-and-neck contest. NFC Championship hero Garrett Hartley knocked down a field goal just as the first half was ending to put the Saints up 16-14. Atlanta went up again on a FG of their own before the teams traded touchdowns and the Falcons were up 25-22 late in the game. Reggie Bush returned a kickoff to the Falcons 15-yard line and then Pierre Thomas found the end zone from five yards out to give New Orleans the eventual win and it was exhilarating. But more than that, I watched, almost as though watching threw a window, the entire city celebrate. It was like watching proud parents revel in their child’s victory. I am a fan of the New Orleans Saints because of the passion that they ignite in their fans and how a single sports team can unify a city. I am a fan of any team that can do that, though the Saints are the only team to which I have been exposed that have mastered the art.

And now. The NFL is trying to dampen the celebration and break the spirit of the loyal Saints fans? I’m thoroughly disgusted by them. This article was posted on a local news website this afternoon and gives a little more news weight than just my rant. (Which, fair warning, I’m about to continue below.)

You do not own the rights to the words “Who Dat”, National Football League. Nor do you own the rights to the fleur de lis. It’s a symbol of the entire city and, I’m going out on a limb here, but I’m guessing France might have a bone to pick with you for suggesting such a thing, seeing as how it’s a symbol of the French monarchy that *I’m pretty sure* was established before you.

Not to mention the fact that if this was something of a subject of concern to the NFL, they should have taken it up with the Who Dat Nation years ago (read: when the Saints weren’t winning). Just where exactly do they get off claiming it belongs to the NFL now?

Ugh.

At the time of this post, the Facebook group ‘Hey NFL! Keep your hands off of WHO DAT & the Fleur de Lis!’ already had 5,895 members and counting. And I will tell you one other thing I have learned about living in New Orleans: the more you try and break them, the more strength the city finds and the more united the people become. I know this to be true and I’m not even from around here.

You wonder why I ♥ David Wright? Here’s why. The following was taken from this Brooklyn Cyclones blog post:

“…David Wright took batting practice with the Cyclones again today, and we opened the gates early so fans could watch the Mets’ star take some hacks. He once again peppered the scoreboard with some long home runs, and looked sharp fielding ground balls at third base.

But that’s the boring stuff. Here’s the good stuff:

He signed autographs for just about every person in attendance, making his way to pockets of crowds in the stands, taking pictures, and talking to the fans. At one point, he had to break away to take some more swings, and a little boy (wearing a David Wright shirt) who was just about to get an autograph looked heartbroken. In fact, he started crying, and had to be hugged by his mom.

At the end of the practice, I mentioned the boy to David, and he made a point to go over to him, and sign an autograph. The little guy was thrilled, and started to walk away with a huge smile on his face. “Hey, Noah,” said Wright, calling the kid by his first name. “Come back here, buddy. This is for you.” He signed the bat he used during batting practice and gave it to Noah! The kid was awestruck and speechless. He just started screaming!

Then Wright signed his spikes, his batting gloves, his cap — just about everything he wore or used during the day — and gave them out to random kids in the stands!”

Yea. I’m pretty sure I’d say yes if he showed up at my door and asked for hand in marriage. And by pretty sure I mean absolutely 100% positive.

When my brother Joe graduated high school in 2003, my graduation present to him was a ginormous scrapbook of all his sports accomplishments in high school. In truth, I had actually given him the first chunk of the album for Christmas in 2001, because there was enough material, and gave him the balance at graduation. I took alllll his football articles and alllll his baseball articles, combined them with photos (being nice to the yearbook lady in high school totally paid off, she gave me a whole CD of photos since I was in college myself during his junior and senior years) and the finished product was actually TWO ginormous scrapbooks.

Well, for those of you playing at home, I have two brothers. And Ted also received his first installment of his album for Christmas in 2005, with junior and senior years still owed to him upon his high school graduation in 2007. That came and went, and I still had a very large bag of newspaper articles that would have intimidated even the most seasoned scrapbooker. But…I finished it. Finally. Nevermind the fact that the kid is headed into his junior year of college. That’s neither here nor there.

But, since he is getting his present later today upon my arrival back on the west coast (assuming that ever happens :/ ), and because I’m confident he never checks my blog, I’m posting the images. Because that sucker is thick and I’m, adding it to the Scraptastic Gallery so it won’t take days to load on one page. Here’s the latest additions:

Ted’s Senior Year (2006-2007)

Ted’s Junior Year (2005-2006)

Oh yea. And Go Indians too.