Suiting Up

I never played football as a kid. I never played in high school. I went to maybe five or ten games total in college. In short, by American standards, I have a pretty poor football history.

So, how do you explain to your friends and family, who know perfectly well that you hated football as a kid, that you'll be out of touch because it's Game Day?

How do you explain that you won't make a prediction about the outcome because you really, truly, seriously don't want to jinx it?

How do you explain that, yes, this game is more important than anything else that you can think of right now, because to rob this City of its newfound unity and joy would be as big a tragedy as the hurricane that almost killed her for real?

In my twelve years as an Orleanian, I became a Saints fan, not because I had a great love for the sport, but, because I had a great love of New Orleans. and New Orleans is never better than when she has just won a football game. And I have had my heart nearly broken because the owner has quote seriously thought about taking the team to San Antonio or Los Angeles. (Come on, Los Angeles Saints? Please.) But you always knew this might happen, because, let's face it, the team was never really any good.

But, this year is different. The team is really, truly good. Today, the New Orleans Saints are competing for the first time to be NFC Champions, and for the Super Bowl berth that comes with that title. And the response from the city is far beyond anything I could have suspected. People who don't know each other shake hands and hug on the street. People who do know each other simply got closer. People who've fallen out of touch find themselves in long conversations again. All because of the Team and of the Game.

And, to be honest, I'm not entirely sure that the team could have done as well or gone as far without the absolutely loyal fans that go to Every Single Game Without Fail, upon whose sheer willpower the saints have limped along these 40 years. They call us the Twelfth Man because of the unbearable noise we make in the Dome that invariably provides some advantage to our Saints.

But I really believe we're more than that. That when we show the team how much we support them... hell, how much we need them... that it helps to drive them forward. And that, when we get together and really really try, sometimes we carry a game out of sheer will. And it'seasy to feel that because we're part of the team, we deserve to share in the sweetness of the victories and must share the pain of defeats as much as anyone on the roster.

I sat last week in the Superdome, for the Saints' first return to the playoffs since 2000, and the first Divisional Round game in history. I sat in seats so high I needed a sherpa to get me back to the beer stand, and so expensive that I'm not entirely sure that the hotdogs I ate that day aren't the last food I'll be able to afford until next payday. But it was the greatest single event I have ever been a part of. It was a win that I am positive I played a part in, even in Section 615.

And now I walk among these same New Orleanians, my teammates, every one charged as they never have been before, and I feel am part of... no, that I belong to... something huge. Something the city needs right now. It seems frivolous and counterproductive to spend so much energy on a game, but I know better. It has made this city one in a way that government and disaster cannot.

I go to my closet and pull out my number twelve jersey. I hold it in my hands I think about where the team has been, and how far it has come. And, I think about how hard today is going to be. I put it on not because I want to show support the team, but because I am part of the team.

It's game day, and everybody knows you can't play if you don't suit up.