Bewildered in Bucktown (With a few words about the New Orleans Saints)

My life is a mess. I will admit that readily. It's not like I've ever really had it together but certainly right now, it is a mess. We all have days... or perhaps a string of days when we have no idea where we will be, how we will get there, or what the hell we will do at wherever we are going... or why any of it goes on in the first place. Eddie Jordan understands this, I'm sure. But when it becomes clear that this adequately describes the majority of one's days for an extended period of time, one knows one's life is a mess.

If it weren't for the fact that I retain some confidence in my ability to recount and describe the events of my chaotic directionless days after they have happened, I'd have to diagnose myself with Alzheimer's disease. Unfortunately, since the days continue to progress with a fair amount of clarity, (at least the non-alcohol soaked days do) I can only reach the far less comforting conclusion that my life is simply a mess.


Artist's conceptualization of what it's like to be me

And so it was Sunday that I somehow.... messily.... ended up at the St Louis King of France school grounds for the Bucktown Seafood Festival. I don't know. It wasn't my idea. I don't know whose idea it was to be there. But there I was at an outdoor table with r, Menckles, Goldschmidt, and Shehateme, hunched over my breakfast onion mum as the live entertainment on stage doled out one heaping spoonful of classic rock karaoke after another. I think they played Freebird. The festival featured a modest selection of food, games and knickknacks the entertainment value of which we exhausted in the space of about an hour.

Luckily there was a comfortable enough bar within walking distance to which we could retreat in time to catch the Saints game. From that point on, the situation improved greatly although this improvement had little or nothing to do with any particular action of my choosing. First, the Saints clobbered the 49ers 31-10 as I steadily increased my intoxication to a point that matched my already generally confused nature. Later, that evening, I found myself back uptown dancing to a Neil Diamond song in a bar full of Red Sox fans. Again, I have no idea how or why I got there but there I was. Like I said, my life is a mess... but it ain't all that bad.

Messy observations on Sunday's Saints game:

• So did Brees have a good day... or just another ho-hum day where the ball bounced a little more in his favor? The numbers (31 out of 39 for 336 yards and four touchdowns) are certainly his best of the season. But his passing remains woefully erratic at times. Despite the impressive stats, these two Brees moments from Sunday stand out.
  
  
  1. On the Saints' first offensive play of the game, Coach Soupy went for broke asking Brees to roll right and throw the ball for all he was worth to David Patten deep down the right sideline. Unfortunately, Brees wasn't worth all that much as the badly underthrown ball caused Patten to stop and wait. Patten had beaten the defender and could easily have scored on the play if the pass had been on time. As it was, the Saints were lucky this wasn't and interception.
  2. The much maligned Devery Henderson made a gorgeous catch while barely dragging his tip-toes in bounds near the right sideline setting up an eventual field goal after a subsequent drop in the end-zone by the much-heralded Marques Colston (more on this later). But Henderson's remarkable grab was only made necessary by Brees's horribly off-the-mark pass which nearly sailed out of reach. Devery, who was wide open on the play, would have had room to run with the ball had it been on target.
  
  
  Soupy's offense is at its best when Brees is making quick decisions and throwing short, accurate, passes. It can be efficient when it clicks but it is also one dimensional and therefore easily defensible. Since no competent defense has any reason to fear being beaten deep by Brees's arm and since the Saints have no real running game to speak of, as long as you manage to disrupt the short passing game, you've likely got the Saints beat.
  
  
  I think the bionic arm needs to be recalibrated



• Because the Saints' lack the ability (or willingness) to out-muscle people at the line of scrimmage and because they can't threaten defenses with a deep passing game, in order to have any chance at success, Soupy relies on cute trickery to keep people off-balance. Occasionally this helps, but it's hardly a reliable source of consistent offense. It does provide some entertaining moments, though. Sunday, the Saints followed one trick play, a failed reverse to David Patten, with a second one, a flea flicker pass that Marques Colston dropped in the endzone. Neither play actually worked but the goofy trickery may have contributed to the pass-interference call that set the Saints up with a first and goal. And here we have the essence of the Saints' attack. They dance and fake and hope to distract their opponent into making mistakes or, failing that, advance the ball via penalty enforcement.
  
  In a sense, the Saints offense has taken on the personality of its number one douchebag flanker running back. Bush's numbers Sunday tell you everything you need to know about the Saints offense. 10 carries 64 yards. (Twenty of those yards came on one play and even that was merely a slightly longer version of his usual mad dash for the sideline.) The Saints only even attempted to move the ball via their top rusher 10 times during the game. And several of those running plays were characterized by more trickery and misdirection as one or another Saint faked an end-around in an increasingly pathetic ploy to distract opposing linebackers from an overly apologetic running attack. Tough defensive fronts (like Jacksonville's) will eat that shit for lunch. The over-reliance on cuteness is not only unsustainable over a 16 game schedule, it ultimately makes your offense look like, for lack of a better descriptor, a bunch of pussies. Right now the Saints are valiantly climbing back into the division race on the strength of their defense and overall scrappiness. But if they can't develop a power running game before the end of the season, they simply are not a playoff team.
  
  
  Building a running game around Reggie Bush is like trying to drive a railroad spike with a down pillow. It's all whooshy and feathery but never really gets the job done.



• Good Marques Colston: Colston had his biggest day of the 2007 season catching 8 passes for 85 yards and three touchdowns. Saints fans have been expecting last year's big rookie surprise to take a leap toward superstardom this season. At times, though, he has seemed almost invisible. Perhaps this performance will be something to build on.
  
  Bad Marques Colston: On the other hand, Colston's rising star has not quite arrived yet. Both of his drops in the endzone were tough plays but still the kind of catches you expect your number one guy to make.
  
  The best thing that's happened for the Saints' offense has been the emergence of the veteran David Patten. Patten again led the team with 109 receiving yards Sunday. The next best thing that could happen for the Saints offense would be more carries for Pierre Thomas, but Soupy is still too busy trying to be cute.
  
  
  Believe it or not, this is actually a picture of Colston dropping a pass. Obviously, he should have had this one.



• The Saints' defense put together yet another impressive game shutting the 49ers out for the entire first half and holding a 6th consecutive opponent to under 100 yards rushing. Let's leave the fact that Niners running back Frank Gore was playing hurt aside and just give the Saints credit for maintaining this streak.
  
  The defense was refreshingly unharmed by the return of Jason David, the Saints' marquee free agent acquisition this season, who did not give up any stupid big plays. Let's leave the fact that Niners quarterback Alex Smith was playing hurt aside and just give David credit for having the balls to show his face again.
  
  The most encouraging development for the Saints defense this year has been the return of safety Roman Harper from last year's knee injury. Harper hasn't yet become a major playmaker but he has contributed to the Saints defensive improvement as a solid tackler in run support and is a disruption to opposing passers as a blitzer. Sunday Harper showed signs of improvement in pass coverage as well frequently breaking up passes or delivering intimidating hits to opposing receivers. The Saints D is still one or two quality linebackers away from actually being halfway decent. But let's leave that aside too... for this week anyway.
  
  
  Fujita gathers in a rare turnover for the Saints defense. Note the look of utter shock on his face



• Does the kicker suck? We still don't know. Mare made five kicks from extra-point range in San Francisco, one of which counted for three points because Marques Colston had dropped what should have been a touchdown pass on second and goal from the nine.



• Finally a note on wardrobe. While the Saints took the field in proper uniform for the third consecutive outing, 49ers coach Mike Nolan continues to defy current NFL coaching convention by wearing a coat and tie to the sideline of a football game. Nolan would say that he is bringing back a lost dignity to the coaching position and setting a professional tone for his charges on Sunday. But Nolan, like most football coaches, is an authoritarian prick who prefers hollow symbols of "professional" convention to making an attempt at the actual respect of those in one's employ necessary to bring about a truly professional and productive workplace.
  
  Immature poses like this are little more than public relations gambits whereby coaches campaign to be perceived as more important than they actually are... often to the detriment of their actual purpose which is designing the team's game plan. Being a football coach requires strong organizational skills and some ability to think strategically.... about the same skill set necessary to manage the night shift at Chilli's. But, since NFL coaches are public figures who don't enjoy the greatest job security, they are a paranoid lot by nature. This leads the more nervous among them to invent all sorts of idiotic external job functions for themselves having mostly to do with the motivation of... or in reality... inane condescension to... highly specialized and skilled adult professional athletes.
  
  In pursuit of such inane condescension, some coaches will berate their players in public, some will impose unnecessary dress codes and curfews on their team, some will throw unbecoming temper tantrums to the media, some will stage absurd pageants where they bury a box of statues near the team's practice field. And some, like Mike Nolan, will wear a superfluous strand of cloth around his neck and bask in the gravitas he imagines it bestows upon him as he stands around for three hours while men wearing plastic helmets collide with one another uncomfortably. Nolan's decision to make a prickish fashion statement this season has inspired his team to post a professional and dignified 2-5 record thus far including a 31-10 embarrassment at the hands of a mediocre (although properly panted) Saints team.

As for the Saints and their wardrobe issues, consider this. In games where the Saints play in their standard home or away uniform they are 3-1. In games where they wear black aerobics tights they are 0-3. I'm not saying that this is an infallible indicator, but if the Saints come out on the field this week with a chance to fight their way back to .500 dressed as a ballet troupe again, spirits will not be at their highest. On the other hand, the fact that the Saints are in position to climb out of their 0-4 hole is reason enough to keep those spirits from sinking too low. Or, at the very least, it is another fact to throw on the pile of gathering evidence that life is indeed an unfathomable mess.