King Arthur Movie Tristan

Last Sunday's victory against the Cardinals was the greatest playoff game in Saints' history.

It was also Reggie Bush's most explosive. It stacks against any singular performance he dished for USC.

On Sunday the Saints play the biggest home game in the history of New Orleans professional sports. It's history some -- like me -- had felt would elude us forever after our team won its first playoff game (2000 against the Rams) only to fall next to the Vikings, 34-16.

Yeah, Minnesota. The Saints, who are 2-7 thus far in the playoffs and will be fighting tooth and nail for a third win, also dropped their first playoff game to the Vikings in 1987.

Yep, we got a heaping pile of history.

Of course those games were eons ago in the time line of professional football. And rosters change. But colors stay the same. And epic games in which your beloved sports team gets crushed don't fade easily. They stick in your craw like Skittles compacted in the cavities of your freshly pulled third molars and resurface with surprise when you see something good -- like the 49ers' heir to Joe Montana winning Super Bowls or a bowl of freshly popped popcorn.

Which is kind of like saying it takes a stud quarterback to make a second appearance in the NFC Championship in four years. This is the Drew Brees era.

But it's also coach Sean Payton's, who now seemed to have presciently held Reggie back much of this season while he regained strength following knee surgery. During pre-game against the Cardinals Reggie gripped a bat emblazoned with 'Bring da Wood' before splitting Arizona's defense with a north-south running attack that No. 25 had never displayed in the Dome before. It's like what G. Bomb said in the comments: "He hit those guys early and they went 'Hey, aren't you supposed to be dancing and stuff back there until I catch you?' 'No,' Reg said, 'coach said bring the wood. So I am bringing something. Even though I don't know what that means.'"

It seems that no one in this country realizes what this Saints season for the fans means. Like as if the city of New Orleans is rebuilt and the washing away of 42 years of mental anguish and ineptitude for a sports team is less a story than an over-the-hill solipsistic quarterback who went to the Dark Side for one last chance at glory and a new Wrangler jeans contract.

It's like a fluff fest for 40-year-old Favre out there. And his biggest lover, Madden, isn't even around to fellate with the rest. 
The Saints are used to getting hosed. As one of five football teams to never reach the Super Bowl -- including Browns, Lions, Jaguars and Texans -- the Black and Gold are on the brink in its own venue and set to recalibrate the way a nation and sports culture identify with a city's team.

Destiny, which doesn't count yet for the Jaguars and Texans because they are still infants in the realm of expansion teams, is on the Saints' side. Revenge is ours against the Vikings. And Favre, who hasn't won a road playoff game in 12 years, is set to crack. I've watched him this year and he played his best game against the Cowboys -- no way he follows that with an identical performance.
I see Favre getting smashed in the mouth and intercepted at least twice. Yep: twice.

As for Brees and Co., it will be same 'ol same 'ol: Saints score at least 35.

This is a new Saints era. No one outside the team and fan base is ready to accept the team as contenders -- but one more win will change that.

No one is ready to accept Brees as the best quarterback in the NFL, despite breaking records and putting up better numbers these past two seasons than the Colts' quarterback -- but one more win will change that.

The main ingredient is there. The most explosive offense is ready. We're already proud of our Saints team, but let's cheer them on so we can proudly back our loyalty in the face of Cowgirls, Massholes and numerous other douchebag fans of America.

Since I was born, Saints quarterback spot, you've come a long way, baby: Archie Manning, Bobby Scott, Bobby Douglass, Dave Wilson, Ken Stabler, Guido Merkens (why bother with a last name when you have that perfection?), Ken Stabler, Dave Wilson, Richard Todd, Bobby Hebert, John Fourcade, Steve Walsh, Mike Buck, Wade Wilson, Jim Everett, Doug Nussmeier, Heath Shuler, Billy Joe Hobert, Danny Weurffel, Billy Joe Tolliver, Kerry Collins, Jake Delhomme, Jeff Blake, Aaron Brooks, Todd Bouman.

And coaches too (Ditka was only half dumb, Mora was total passive-aggressive asshole (NSFW)):