When the Saints Go Marching
Friday, September 09, 2005
I have debated whether or not to write anything of the tragedy of New Orleans. Out loud, I have no end of words to describe my grief, outrage, hopes, fears, and rationalizations about what has happened. But when I think of how to commit them to words on a screen or page, I find I don't know what to say.
I think part of it is because I am not from New Orleans. I am not of New Orleans. I have never lived in New Orleans. New Orleans is not my home, and for once, I am fortunate to have been an outsider.
New Orleans has always a bit of an enigma to me. Perhaps the last truly unique city in America, it was always a little bit out of step with the rest of the country. I remember when my family first moved to south Louisiana, noticing that all the usual brand names were different. The rest of the nation had the same brands of fast-food, grocery stores, big box department stores. New Orleans had its own brands and identities. Have you ever seen a Schwegmann's? A D.H. Holmes? How about K&B drug stores? Maison Blanche? That Stanley?
Modern New Orleans was, in many ways, a second-class U.S. city. It was never as big as its reputation. It was always a little bit poorer, a little bit grimier, a little bit more corrupt than it should be to thrive. In an age that prided efficiency and modernity, New Orleans remained steadfastly inefficient. As a consequence, despite the historical splendor of the city, its contributions to art and architecture and culture, it is reduced in the eyes of most Americans to drunken reveling and burned food labeled as "blackened" on the menus of soulless ersatz Cajun restaurants.
In so many ways, the New Orleans Saints were the perfect team for that city. They were classic underachievers, who were often beloved exactly because they were such losers. Though they weren't untalented or unprofessional (New Orleans boasts some great players of yore) they've never vaulted into the next level of achievement in the NFL. Consider that the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, added to the NFL 9 years after the Saints, and with a historical reputation as the worst team in the NFL, has already won a Super Bowl. The Saints have won exactly one playoff game.
I suppose it was inevitable that I would grow to love them. When I moved to the region, I was a Dallas Cowboys fan, I suppose. Nearly simultaneous to my moving there, the Saints changed ownership and brought in new coaches and players who transformed the team from the Aints to a kind of consistent respectability, which, while not always good enough for the playoffs, made them enjoyable to watch. There was always a sense that the team was teetering on the edge of complete collapse, but somehow they managed regular playoff appearances, and even stole a division title from the 49ers while I was in high school.
After I left for college, Saints games were hard to find on television. Seeing a game on television became a precious event, and I slowly transformed from a local follower to a dedicated fan. The Mike Ditka / Ricky Williams era was a lot of fun, because even though they went right back to being losers, they were so outrageous you just had to love them. The current Saints line-up is a little harder to recognize, but they're still lovable in that underachieving way. They can beat the defending champions one week, then lose by 30 to a doormat the next. They can dazzle you, then break your heart. And yet, over the last four years, they have a perfectly even win-loss record.
The longer I'm away from New Orleans, the more I think I love the Saints. Not because I like, or even recognize, the players. But because they are New Orleans' team.
This year, they'll be on the road a lot, with the city in shambles, their fans scattered to the four winds, and teammates without homes, much less home stadiums. It could be a very grim year if the players decide that football is a game not worth playing. Or it could be a magnificent year - the kind sports historians write about for decades. It will be worth watching, and I will be watching. The Shoal Creek Saloon is the home to the Austin New Orleans Saints fan club. They show all the games, which is great, because around here, you get nothing but Cowboys and Texan games on Sunday. You can kick back, enjoy an oyster po-boy, and watch the Saints on a big screen TV.
Nobody is quite certain where the Saints will play this year. They're operating out of San Antonio, and could possibly play some games in the Alamodome. I'd like to go down and see them if I can. Some people think that the Saints will play at LSU's Tiger Stadium in Baton Rouge. The idea is that Baton Rouge is more accessible to New Orleans area Saints fans. This is a great idea, but is probably only convenient for regional fans outside of New Orleans who were unaffected by the storm. Then again, season ticket holders are probably not sleeping in cots on the floor of the Astrodome or searching through rubble in Gulfport for missing family members. The poor, dislocated citizens of New Orleans probably do not have access to televisions, so any talk of the Saints bringing hope to them stinks of bread and circuses.
What the Saints can offer to New Orleans is the one thing it probably will never offer again, the elite status of being a host city to an NFL franchise. Tom Benson, the owner of the Saints has been vocal in recent years about moving the Saints out of New Orleans. The Saints will be an itenerant team for the 2005 season, and quite possibly the 2006 season as well, especially if the Superdome is more seriously damaged than previously reported. Benson will have a financial responsibility to position the team for long-term stability.
The hard cold fact is that New Orleans will not have the infrastructure to support a team for a very long while. San Antonio is a logical place to host the Saints for the near term. However, San Antonio, though larger in population than New Orleans, has failed in bids for an NFL team in the past, and simply does not seem like a viable candidate for a permanent relocation. More likely is Los Angeles, which is a desirable market for the NFL, even though that great city has lost every single professional football team it has ever hosted.
Even without knowing where the Saints will wind up, it seems clear that the NFL must make the decision on the basis of economics. The only reason not to move the Saints is the fear of the potential backlash caused by perceived opportunism. The Saints will occupy the same historical infamy as the Colts, who snuck out of Baltimore in unmarked trucks in the middle of the night.
What I do know is that I will support the New Orleans Saints in San Antonio. I will support the New Orleans Saints in Baton Rouge. I will even support the New Orleans Saints playing home games in Meadowlands, NJ or Orchard Park, NY. You can take the Saints out of New Orleans while you reclaim, restore and rebuild the city. But if you take the New Orleans out of the Saints, they're just another inconsistent regional team without any identity. They won't be my team any more. Perhaps I'll become a Texans fan.
As I wrap this up, I wonder, is it too long before someone suggests the gruesome idea of the New Orleans Saints of Anaheim?
I think part of it is because I am not from New Orleans. I am not of New Orleans. I have never lived in New Orleans. New Orleans is not my home, and for once, I am fortunate to have been an outsider.
New Orleans has always a bit of an enigma to me. Perhaps the last truly unique city in America, it was always a little bit out of step with the rest of the country. I remember when my family first moved to south Louisiana, noticing that all the usual brand names were different. The rest of the nation had the same brands of fast-food, grocery stores, big box department stores. New Orleans had its own brands and identities. Have you ever seen a Schwegmann's? A D.H. Holmes? How about K&B drug stores? Maison Blanche? That Stanley?
Modern New Orleans was, in many ways, a second-class U.S. city. It was never as big as its reputation. It was always a little bit poorer, a little bit grimier, a little bit more corrupt than it should be to thrive. In an age that prided efficiency and modernity, New Orleans remained steadfastly inefficient. As a consequence, despite the historical splendor of the city, its contributions to art and architecture and culture, it is reduced in the eyes of most Americans to drunken reveling and burned food labeled as "blackened" on the menus of soulless ersatz Cajun restaurants.
In so many ways, the New Orleans Saints were the perfect team for that city. They were classic underachievers, who were often beloved exactly because they were such losers. Though they weren't untalented or unprofessional (New Orleans boasts some great players of yore) they've never vaulted into the next level of achievement in the NFL. Consider that the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, added to the NFL 9 years after the Saints, and with a historical reputation as the worst team in the NFL, has already won a Super Bowl. The Saints have won exactly one playoff game.
I suppose it was inevitable that I would grow to love them. When I moved to the region, I was a Dallas Cowboys fan, I suppose. Nearly simultaneous to my moving there, the Saints changed ownership and brought in new coaches and players who transformed the team from the Aints to a kind of consistent respectability, which, while not always good enough for the playoffs, made them enjoyable to watch. There was always a sense that the team was teetering on the edge of complete collapse, but somehow they managed regular playoff appearances, and even stole a division title from the 49ers while I was in high school.
After I left for college, Saints games were hard to find on television. Seeing a game on television became a precious event, and I slowly transformed from a local follower to a dedicated fan. The Mike Ditka / Ricky Williams era was a lot of fun, because even though they went right back to being losers, they were so outrageous you just had to love them. The current Saints line-up is a little harder to recognize, but they're still lovable in that underachieving way. They can beat the defending champions one week, then lose by 30 to a doormat the next. They can dazzle you, then break your heart. And yet, over the last four years, they have a perfectly even win-loss record.
The longer I'm away from New Orleans, the more I think I love the Saints. Not because I like, or even recognize, the players. But because they are New Orleans' team.
This year, they'll be on the road a lot, with the city in shambles, their fans scattered to the four winds, and teammates without homes, much less home stadiums. It could be a very grim year if the players decide that football is a game not worth playing. Or it could be a magnificent year - the kind sports historians write about for decades. It will be worth watching, and I will be watching. The Shoal Creek Saloon is the home to the Austin New Orleans Saints fan club. They show all the games, which is great, because around here, you get nothing but Cowboys and Texan games on Sunday. You can kick back, enjoy an oyster po-boy, and watch the Saints on a big screen TV.
Nobody is quite certain where the Saints will play this year. They're operating out of San Antonio, and could possibly play some games in the Alamodome. I'd like to go down and see them if I can. Some people think that the Saints will play at LSU's Tiger Stadium in Baton Rouge. The idea is that Baton Rouge is more accessible to New Orleans area Saints fans. This is a great idea, but is probably only convenient for regional fans outside of New Orleans who were unaffected by the storm. Then again, season ticket holders are probably not sleeping in cots on the floor of the Astrodome or searching through rubble in Gulfport for missing family members. The poor, dislocated citizens of New Orleans probably do not have access to televisions, so any talk of the Saints bringing hope to them stinks of bread and circuses.
What the Saints can offer to New Orleans is the one thing it probably will never offer again, the elite status of being a host city to an NFL franchise. Tom Benson, the owner of the Saints has been vocal in recent years about moving the Saints out of New Orleans. The Saints will be an itenerant team for the 2005 season, and quite possibly the 2006 season as well, especially if the Superdome is more seriously damaged than previously reported. Benson will have a financial responsibility to position the team for long-term stability.
The hard cold fact is that New Orleans will not have the infrastructure to support a team for a very long while. San Antonio is a logical place to host the Saints for the near term. However, San Antonio, though larger in population than New Orleans, has failed in bids for an NFL team in the past, and simply does not seem like a viable candidate for a permanent relocation. More likely is Los Angeles, which is a desirable market for the NFL, even though that great city has lost every single professional football team it has ever hosted.
Even without knowing where the Saints will wind up, it seems clear that the NFL must make the decision on the basis of economics. The only reason not to move the Saints is the fear of the potential backlash caused by perceived opportunism. The Saints will occupy the same historical infamy as the Colts, who snuck out of Baltimore in unmarked trucks in the middle of the night.
What I do know is that I will support the New Orleans Saints in San Antonio. I will support the New Orleans Saints in Baton Rouge. I will even support the New Orleans Saints playing home games in Meadowlands, NJ or Orchard Park, NY. You can take the Saints out of New Orleans while you reclaim, restore and rebuild the city. But if you take the New Orleans out of the Saints, they're just another inconsistent regional team without any identity. They won't be my team any more. Perhaps I'll become a Texans fan.
As I wrap this up, I wonder, is it too long before someone suggests the gruesome idea of the New Orleans Saints of Anaheim?
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