"Remember that time the Saints started 0-3, had a bye week, then went on to win their next 13 games, clinch the division, run the board in the playoffs, and go to the Super Bowl?"
That's the question we fellow Chicks hope to be asking each other in about 40 years during a weekly meeting of our botox/book club while our young, strapping Puerto Rican lovers strum "La Vida Loca" on acoustic guitars. It's enough to make us teary eyed. Can it happen? Hell yeah, getting a studly gigolo is easy when you're living off your rich dead husband's money. Oh wait, you mean the Saints thing. Well yeah, that can happen too.
But it can't happen without a win on Sunday. Fresh off a bye week, the Saints return to the Dome to tussle with a banged up division rival: the Carolina Panthers. We can all but "ga-ron-tee" the Ragin' Cajun Jake Delhomme won't be starting due to the major ouchy on his elbow. So that leaves Carolina's offense in the hands of David Carr. (Awe Santa, you DID get our letters!)
Carr's best known for being an even more disappointing version of Joey Harrington. Still, a world class player like Steve Smith has the potential to make the likes of Aaron Brooks, Rex Grossman, Brian Griese, and yes, even David Carr look like Joe Montana on a good day. And I think we all know what's happened to the Saints' secondary the past few weeks. (Wait, what is that smell? Oh nevermind, it's just Jason David getting burned.)
The good (or bad news) is that David is out for a while, which means look out for the return of Fred "Like Toast" Thomas. After putting in some quality reflection time on the bench, maybe F.T. will find himself up to the challenge of effectively defending a pass play. Sunday will provide the embattled Saint a fresh opportunity to earn back the respect of his fans (and his parents, who we hear have changed their last names to Thompson.)
Then there's the other black and gold elephant in the room, the loss of #26. While many see Deuce McAllister's injury as a major blow to the Saints offense, we see it as a point of unification for the team. What better way to motivate their teammate on his long road to recovery than by kicking ass like Amy Winehouse on her husband for the next 2 months.
Old Slogan: Earn it. New Slogan: Do it for Deuce!
(Should we even mention the offensive line? Or just end on a positive note?)
Oh what the hell, we're on a roll. So the Swiss Cheese O-line didn't look so hot against the Titans last Monday. (Yeah, we know, always bringing up old $hit...) At any rate, they've had two weeks to watch tape, rest up, and get serviced by a Bourbon St. She-male (if that's what they're into...) They were one of the top rated lines in the league in 2006. The faces on that line haven't dramatically changed, so why should the talent level? We'll call the Monday Night Mess a fluke (and, well...the two weeks before it too.) Remember, they've got new motivation. DO IT FOR DEUCE!!!
C'mon, we've all watched enough cliched sports flicks to know how this thing can go. Major underdog, inspired by some great tragedy, suddenly overcomes tremendous odds. Hello...the death of Mickey in Rocky III...the death of Apollo Creed in Rocky IV....Rocky being really old, wrinkly, and unintelligible in that last Rocky movie. Um, do we really need anymore proof?
Starting Sunday, it's the dawn of the "Newer", "New" New Orleans Saints Era. How can we be so confident? Because for N'awlins folks right now, 0-4 is like those southern accents on K-ville; just plain ole wrong.
Saints Go on 13 Game Winning Streak: Written By Overly Confident and Perhaps Slightly Delusional Chick
'Twas the Night Before Saints Camp
Twas the night before Saints Camp and despite all the frenzy,
not an interception was missed, not even by McKenzie.
The jerseys were hung by the chimney with care
in hopes that a Lombardi trophy would soon be there.
Drew Brees was nestled all snug in his bed
with no thoughts of indictments filling his head.
Marques wore his grip glove, Fred Thomas his cast
and pledged “I won’t get burned this year, I’ll be super-fast!”
The backup QBs in their black and gold caps
joked “Let’s ‘pull a Romo’ and fumble some snaps!”
When out on the field there arose such a clatter.
Dhani put down his bow tie to see what was the matter.
Away to the window Copper flew like a flash,
But it was only Joe Horn throwing his career in the trash.
Another loud noise gave the boys quite a fright
…must mean more gunshots in Uptown tonight.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear
But Coach Sean Payton - and his eyes full of tears.
He unchained a dog once so lively and quick,
saying “Looks like we had another visit from Vick.”
More rapid than Eagles he said this Saints team will be.
And the players all ran to him bursting with glee.
“On Reggie! On Deuce! On Mark Simoneau!
We’re headed to Millsaps, not Thibodeaux!
To I-10 East and to the Twin Spans
Let’s prepare for the season with our Mississippi fans!”
They knew in an instant there’d be a ring this year.
For jolly old Payton made one thing quite clear.
“The gift of winning gives our fans an escape
from shady contractors and FEMA red tape.”
In 2006 they thought it was luck
Now we’ve got to show them we don’t really suck.
Another trip to the playoffs, yes that’s what we crave
and this time we’ll send those Bears back to their caves!
Drew sprang to his feet, got his team all pumped!
“We’re helping the Gulf Coast out of this slump!”
I heard Reggie exclaim as they drove out of sight.
“Enjoy your title now Colts…see you opening night!”
-Dedicated to our fans and our team! Geaux Saints!!
Copyright 2007 www.chicksinthehuddle.com
A Saintly Obsession
This site is dedicated to all us chicks who love football just as much as the boys and not just because the players are hot (although it is an added bonus!) Our team of choice, the New Orleans Saints and we're no bandwagon broads. The obsession began long before Reggie suited up, Drew competed for MVP, or Sean Payton won coach of the year. We were there in the brown bag era of the 80s, through the Bobby Hebert years, the Steve Walsh nightmare, Aaron Brooks throwing the ball backwards and somehow repeatedly sacking himself...you get the drift.
But we've vowed not to live in the past for it's the dawn of a new day. We're ready to join in with the rest of the Triple Fs (Female Football Fanatics) cheering on the Saints in their march to the Super Bowl. If you're not a Saints fan, not to worry: trash talk is allowed. Just be prepared to get it back, bigger and bolder. To the fellas, you're more than welcome to stick around too, just keep the patronizing comments to a minimum. After all, we too spot the flags, know the calls, and question the plays. But most importantly, we know you don't have to look like someone's ambiguously gay gym teacher to be a true female sports fan. After all, REAL fans wear PINK!!!
(Oh yeah, Fairweather fans, posers, and groupies need not apply)
