Sunday, September 11, 2005

Saints Be Praised


In a display of incredible pluck, the New Orleans Saints overcame their personal emotions and the crushing loss facing the citythey represent nationally, and gave their fans a clutch last minute on-the-road win over the much ballyhooed Carolina Panthers, 23 -20.

I meant to (and did) write much more about the cosmic intersection of this social/sports phenomenon...but now I realize that it would add more noisy brain gas to the daily tally of global warming. It's just a game, afterall... but sometimes, that game means something, maybe everything.

If you don't understand what I am talking about, I am sorry. I can't help you.

But it is somehow a small reassurance of our capability for justice and renewal that the Saints should win on September 11th, 2005.

That's my opinion. If you have an issue with that, you can take up with God.

Well done, guys.

4 comments:

Cassandra said...

Makes perfect sense to me. Somehow I'll never forget standing in an ice-cold arena at Giants Stadium in 1989. I have never been that thoroughly chilled to the bone in my entire life and we were going to have to hang around after the game and drive a van full of Navy cheerleaders back to Annapolis. We were both exhausted - we'd gotten there early and been there for hours. Drinking cold beer and standing in a group of screaming mids wasn't helping my migraine much either.

But when Navy narrowly squeaked by Army, 19-17, against everyone's expectations, all of a sudden it seemed like a big old rainbow was arching over the stadium. My husband's Dad had died about three weeks earlier - we'd both been there when he passed away and the memory was still raw.

I think that was the first time I was able to think of him without it hurting - I just knew he was grinning from ear to ear :)

portia said...

Reminds me of the World Series in 2001 when the Yankees faced the Diamondbacks. Baseball had been postponed several weeks because of 9/11: the city was still burning, our psyche in tatters, and many wondered aloud if, in the scheme of things, there was room for a "game"...whether there even should be.

Gripped with fear and on high security alert, 55,000 fans poured into the stadium in late October for the first home game of the series. Bush, wearing a bullet-proof vest, had come to New York to throw out the first pitch (Jeter to Bush: "Don't bounce it, they'll boo you"). Collectively, we held our breath as Bush walked to the mound. He winds up, he throws and it's a... strike! The crowd erupted in cheers, and you could almost feel the healing begin: The symbolism and sentiment of that pitch could not be ignored

The Yankees went on to lose the series but we won that first all important home game, and we learned even more: We could go on. We could triumph. In a small but oh so significant way, the simple game of baseball had come to exemplify New York's--the Nation's--indomitable spirit.

So yes, sometimes a game means something, sometimes it means everything.

One of the three best baseball games I ever watched.

spd rdr said...

Thanks for your stories, ladies. It looks like there's really no need for me to explain anything to my two most loyal readers (out of five total). Of course, I will not be feeling quite as magnanimous when the Saints come marching into Giants Stadium next Monday might.

KJ said...

I didn't root for the Yankees after 9/11 and I won't root for the Saints against the Falcons. Sorry about your houses, guys. It doesn't carry over on the field.