A few weeks back, Richard Campanella presented an op-ed in the T-P which, while a little on the intellectual masturbatory side, still comes close to expressing the importance we've all placed on our little football team.
Countless politicians, activists, and keynote speakers have, since 2005, invoked the name of our city as a metaphor for everything from federal neglect, urban decay, environmental deterioration, and American decline, to poverty, bigotry, disparity, and iniquity. Do a Google search on the metaphor ["New Orleans is a poster child for"], and you will see New Orleans invoked as a metaphor for "global warming," "economic insecurity," "urban vulnerability," "the harm done by blanket government social programs," "human arrogance in the face of nature and disregard for the environment" -- and that's just the first five hits.
Pretty grim stuff.
But recently New Orleanians have metaphorically turned the tables on this rhetorical trend. Consider, for example, the poignantly enigmatic slogan, "Be a New Orleanian Wherever You Are." How interesting: here we are ascribing certain positive characteristics to the people and culture of this place, and advocating that they be recognized, appreciated, and adopted in other places. Exactly what those characteristics are goes cleverly unexplained. For some it may be love-of-place; for others it's festivity, creativity, musicality, carpe diem, or simply greeting a stranger on the street--an act, incidentally, viewed as bizarre or even threatening in some cities. New Orleanians as metaphors for something positive, something from which the rest of the nation can benefit: now that's starting to sound more balanced.
And speaking of nations, consider the "Who Dat Nation." Here we have a metaphorical nationality in which citizenship depends not on borders or birthplace, but passionate love of the Saints -- and, right behind that, of New Orleans. It's no coincidence that, while the chant "Who Dat" dates back decades, the phrase "Who Dat Nation" appears to be mostly a post-Katrina phenomenon. Why? Because the cheerful defiance of adversity has universal human appeal. The Who Dat Nation defies four decades of franchise frustration, four decades of municipal decline, and, most significantly, four recent years of bad memories. "Who Dat Nation" offers an alternative to the use of New Orleans as a metaphor for despair. To those who dismiss sports as a trivial and illusionary distraction, consider the civic narratives at work here: Unity. Resilience.
Optimism.
Pretty powerful stuff.
Now I would resist the implication Campanella makes about pan-NOLA Saints fandom being a "post-katrina phenomenon" I think the city rallied around the Saints because they were already this crucial to who we were. But I'm not going to split too many hairs over that. I think, if there is a difference, it's more related to the heightened intensity of everything after the Flood. Following the Saints has always brought people together and people really needed to come together these past few years. We wear our emotions on the outside in this town. What's not to like about that?
Next there's this letter to the editor which appeared in the Friday Picayune one week ago.
This past week I traveled to New Orleans to attend the NFC championship game. Many of my Minnesota friends cautioned me against wearing my Jared Allen Vikings jersey to pregame festivities and the game itself. I threw caution to the wind and wore my colors proudly. I expected at least some random abuse from Saints fans, but I have to tell the people of New Orleans that my experience was absolutely at the other end of that spectrum.
If I had one, I had 100 Saints fans approach me with comments like "thank you for visiting our city," "I hope you are having a good time," "I'm glad you traveled here, spend lots of money" and many other comments that were nothing but friendly.
I attended the game with three Saints fans. Before going to the game we wandered Bourbon Street, made stops at a couple local bars and enjoyed passing by the many tailgate activities on the way to the stadium. In all those areas, not once was a threatening statement ever made. In fact I was offered drinks and food by a number of partiers.
Once in our seats, there was not another purple jersey within sight, but again I was surrounded by a group of fans respectful of my loyalties and willing to give and take a little fun as the scores changed. Of course I would have preferred a different outcome of the game, but I take my hat off to the fans in New Orleans for their loyalty and unbelievably friendly demeanor.
Thank you for your hospitality. I will be cheering for your team in the Super Bowl.
Darrell Bates
Winona, Minn.
I, of course, was in the Dome that night. It was a tense game with the highest of stakes on the line. And yet Saints fans were as gracious as they've ever been. I couldn't have been more proud.
We'll talk about the game itself later. For now, we'll just say it was not the easiest game to watch. It was frustrating, intense, scary. I guess a championship game should be like that. There's more to say about it but, more than anything, I'll say that my impression of that moment was sort of the opposite of Wang's.
God knows I love the city of New Orleans and the state of Louisiana. God knows I appreciate the bigger-than-football bond we have with our team, and with one another. God knows I raise my glass to those who came before, and those whose time came too early to witness the day we've waited for so long to finally arrive.
But for now, for me anyway, this time it's all about them. Our football team. Our heroes. And never before have I used the term heroes to describe our Saints more pointedly than I do today. Not just because of what they've accomplished, but because it couldn't have happened to a better group of people. It's not just about what they've done, it's about who they are. It's about how they've carried themselves and how they've handled their business. More than any Saints team that's come before them, these Saints deserve it. They've earned it.
And I think that's all well and good. We like this team. We like Brees and Frenchy and Fujita and Morstead. They're a fun group to pull for and they've done well for themselves. But that isn't my main takeaway from that NFC Championship or this season. Years from now what I'll remember most about all of this will be the fans and the city and they way they dance they way they parade, the way they celebrate the moment and make it theirs the way only they can.
Years from now, I'll most remember the moment in overtime just as the Saints were about to cross into field goal range when, during a stoppage in play, I went around our section in the Dome telling each and every stranger there that, no matter what happens, I love them and I love my city. I'll remember watching Garrett Hartley's kick drift toward the goalpost just as I closed my eyes and practically blacked out for a few seconds only to be revived by the roar of the ecstatic crowd. I'll remember hugging everyone I saw in the Quarter for the rest of the night. In my mind that game, this season, is all about us. And so is today. I love you, New Orleans.
Here is your Superbowl altar.
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