When It Hurts So Bad

We see no need to reopen old wounds, revisit the pain, or retell history; we all know what happened Monday night. And thanks to some court ordered visits with a therapist and a cocktail of appropriately prescribed uppers, NOLA Chick finds herself on the road to recovery. According to a family spokesperson, she appreciates the many well wishes sent her way.

As for the Saints, well it might take a little more than hard drugs and a soft couch to get them back on their feet. Who knew the 31-14 ass tapping our team received in front of yet another national audience was just the start of what was shaping out to be a nightmarish week in Saints football? The news that Deuce McAllister would miss the rest of the season due to a torn knee ligament eclipsed even the gut wrenching pain of watching up close and personal as our team bent over and took it like fresh meat at OPP. Deuce will have to undergo the same procedure and rehabilitation used to repair a torn right ACL in 2005. Best case scenario, his rehabilitation is complete come training camp '08.

Will Deuce be 100% come the next season opener, doubtful. Will the Saints continue to honor their $50 million deal with a back who may never have the speed and power that made him among the best in the league? (Hard to say, but we certainly wouldn't have it any other way.) And say Deuce won't agree to a pay cut, will that send him packing to the Falcons, the land of all beloved Ex-Saints? Dear God we hope not. At any rate, it's time we come to terms with the fact that our star player, the guy who we all consider the key to victory, is gone for the season and has possibly played his last game as a Saint. And NO amount of throat coating booze will make that pill easier to swallow.

Right now, we can't help but think to ourselves, "What a difference a year makes." We marched away from last season's home opener 3-0 and shlepped away from this one 0-3. Back then, we were hesitant to believe the Saints could actually get as far as they did. This year, despite the startling evidence before us, we defiantly resist the notion that they can't make it to the big game.

We have two weeks to get our proverbial poop straight. Two weeks to lick our wounds, regain our focus, and get back to being the team we can be. Two weeks to pray that Deuce will make a miraculous recovery and that the Eagles will never again subject us to those Care Bear inspired throwback uniforms. We have two weeks to prove that we're still motivated to fulfill the promise of two simple words: Earn It!

As for you Reggie, it's time to put Hollywood on hold. Starting today, you've got some hellified shoes to fill.