by Ian Tasso
Through the first 13 games of the 2009 NFL season, the New Orleans Saints looked unstoppable. They were 13-0, Drew Brees was leading the charge and their defense stepped up in crucial situations time and time again.
And then, for reasons unknown, everyone forgot about them.
Following their loss against the Cowboys on Dec. 19, everyone just dismissed the Saints. I’ll never understand it – I still don’t – but they became an afterthought.
Sure they dropped their last three games of the regular season; but the first two were only by a combined 10 points, one was in overtime, they were all banged up and as a team had nothing left to play for.
But yet, people dismissed them.
Even when the playoffs rolled around, some thought the Cardinals might upstage New Orleans in the Divisional Round. The Saints dismantled Arizona 45-14.
Then people said that the Vikings would expose them with their front four from hell and their late-minute clutch quarterback. Well, those late minutes rolled around and the clock struck midnight for Favre and his band of merry gentlemen.
When the final whistle blew, it was the Saints who marched on.
And then, as they prepared to take on Peyton Manning and the Colts, it was dubbed a David-Goliath matchup and a Manning-Legacy shoe-in. Why? Why.
This was a team that was 13-0 at one point. 13-0. And all of a sudden, they had no shot. Crazy thing, sports. Isn’t it?
Anchors on Sports Center said the Saints didn’t stand a chance, writers for ESPN.com wrote New Orleans would get carved up by Peyton and bloggers all over the world wrote that Brees and his men would get blown out by Indianapolis.
Yet, for some reason, New Orleans suited up anyway. Strange, considering that they had no chance at winning.
But they showed up Sunday night regardless.
And that's because they had arguably the best quarterback in the NFL and they knew it, one of the most dangerous defenses in the league and they knew it and a coach that makes Jack Bauer look like a sissy – and he knew it.
But for some reason, everyone else forgot about all that. Shame.
No matter - on Sunday night, the Saints gave everyone a rude reminder. And now, they won’t be forgotten for a very long time, you can believe that.
Saints 31, Colts 17
The score suggests the Saints won by 14 points. But Up until Manning’s crucial game-deciding interception, this Super Bowl was just a one-possession game, and it seemed as if it was destined to be a tie one before long. Hell, if it weren’t for Roger Goodell’s overtime rule, we might even still be watching the damn thing.
But that’s when Tracy Porter did what he does best – make things happen.
The rest of the Saints meanwhile, had been doing that all game.
They fought like dogs for the football under that onside-kick-induced pile. Drew Brees engineered a poetic go-ahead drive. And that fantastic Colts defensive front four? They couldn’t buy an inch from the Saints O-line all game long, recording just one sack through 60-minutes of football - the only time all game anybody on the Colts’ defense laid a hand on Drew Brees.
Meanwhile, the Colts made uncharacteristic mistakes: Garcon and Wayne dropped crucial passes, Manning called a timeout that crippled the Colts’ final drive and Jim Caldwell drew up a fabulous offensive game-plan that netted Indianapolis 17 whole points.
As a result, one man forever etched his name in football immortality - and his name wasn't Peyton Manning.
Player of the Game:
It was Drew Brees.
Often times in sports, a story comes along that captivates a city. Sometimes even, it’s so perfect that it lifts an entire nation.
And every so often, one rolls around that would make Walt Disney himself weep. Michael Oehr did it. The 1980 U.S. Hockey Team did it. And now Drew Brees has done it.
Because on Sunday night, the young man from Dallas, Texas finally came full circle, hoisting the Lombardi Trophy high above his head amidst a shower of confetti, lifting with it from the ashes the entire city of New Orleans.
But for him, it was simply the returning of a favor - a favor that had been so graciously granted to him four long years back, by the same city that now sat on his shoulders in celebration.
Drafted in 2001, Brees established his name with an illustrious career at Purdue University. But in the NFL, his legacy was that of a six-foot-nothing quarterback who was labeled a castaway in San Diego, a throwaway in Miami and mercilessly stuffed behind the likes of Doug Flutie, Philip Rivers and Daunte Culpepper.
Enter, the city of New Orleans.
Thanks to the city that embodies himself in every possible way, four years after being left for dead, Drew Brees - once a football leper - has one more label attached to his name: Champion.
Not even Stephen Spielberg himself could have written a better script. It was the marriage of two broken identities, which like missing pieces to a puzzle together formed a final product, one so fluid and so passionate that it made the Sistine Chapel look like a coloring book.
And while the talk all week long was of Peyton Manning and his football legacy, the story at the end of the game was of an entirely different legacy – that of the birth marked quarterback lined up on the other side of the ball.
And it’s a legacy now that to a city of 336,000 can never be broken.
Because for all the touchdowns that Peyton Manning may ever throw in his lifetime, he will never accomplish what Drew Brees did on Sunday night.
Because on Sunday night, thanks to the kid from Dallas, football became more than just a game. On Sunday night, Drew Brees himself became more than just an athlete.
And on Sunday night, New Orleans became a city once again.
Player of the Game that Wasn’t Drew Brees:
Sean Payton.
This guy deserves all the recognition in the world. Because in a game where nearly every single statistic mirrored from one team to the next, the Saints had a distinct advantage in one category – coaching.
On Sunday night, Payton made all the right moves. He drew up a game plan that absolutely shut down the Colts offense. He went for it on fourth-and-two. The man even onside kicked it - in the Super Bowl. Think about that for a second. Like, who does that?
Sean Payton, that’s who.
And for his efforts, it will go down as the single most psychotic and unrealistically important play call in the last 50-years. In a world where Bill Belichick was crucified for a fourth down call in a regular season game, Payton had the balls to run a play that succeeds maybe one in every fifty tries on the biggest stage in the NFL.
And it worked. Why?
Because on this night, the Saints would not be denied - by anything.
Goat of the Game:
Hank Baskett. For the exact reason that Sean Payton was the king of it: the onside kick.
I realize he probably didn’t expect it – none of us did. But he’s a professional athlete, and he’s in that position for a reason. Not only that, but the kick wasn’t even that good – it was kicked directly at him and not low enough. There was no bounce, no deflection, but Baskett let it slip right by him like a salmon.
And for that, he will forever be remembered with the likes of Bartman, Buckner and Norwood.
Okay, maybe not that bad. But seriously, the onside kick is probably the most lopsided plays in the book – all of the odds were in Hank’s favor. And on football’s biggest stage, how do you screw that up?
I guess in the end, it’s not all bad for Mr. Baskett. Guy gets to go home to his wife Kendra Wilkinson - Playboy Model - after flubbing the onside kick. You know what they say: you win some, you lose some…
Possible Goat Had the Saints Lost:
Marques Colston.
Yes he led the Saints in receptions and yards. But he also led them with footballs to the dome.
Midway through the first quarter, with the Saints needing a score, Brees threaded a beautiful pass to a wide open Marques Colston. Only, instead of hauling it in with his hands, Colston tried to haul it in with his face, a meathod that didn’t exactly work out.
In a moment straight out of ‘Leave it to Beaver,’ the pigskin doinked off Colston’s face, and fell to the ground. Very next play, similar problem – clunk, right off Colston’s fingertips.
That onside kick saved his life. Because had the Saints gone on to lose, Colston’s drops would have been labled key momentum stallers for an offense that was desperate for a spark.
Hank Baskett better get a thank you letter.
Key Play:
Obviously the onside kick. There’s really no question here. It completely changed the momentum of the game, and while it in no way guaranteed a Saints victory, it sure as hell helped.
It was a ballsy call, yes. But it wasn’t ballsy to the point of stupidity. Through the first half, it was clear that the Saints needed a spark. Whether that would be through a Reggie Bush return, a Drew Brees completion or a Darren Sharper sack, we never got to find out. Why?
Because Sean Payton took matters into his own hands, and gave his team a kick in the ass himself.
It was a play he was so certain would work, he ran it in the Super Bowl following weeks of practice. I’ll never understand what he saw in that play – or why it would work against the Colts. Granted, we know Hank Baskett slipped it up, but what are the chances of that happening?
Not very good. But still, the guy ran then play, and by god it worked.
And again, while it didn’t guarantee a Saints win, if New Orleans doesn’t recover it, you can bet your ass it all but wraps it up for the Colts. Talk about a game-changer.
It Could Have Been Different If…
Peyton Manning didn’t throw that interception.
Had he not led Reggie Wayne right into Tracy Porter, the Colts may have been able to drive down and tie this thing up.
But instead, Peyton all but iced the game when he threw a pass that appeared if it was intended for Porter rather than Wayne. The Saint's cornerback then took it 74-yards for the score, taking Manning’s 'Quarterbacking Jesus’ legacy with him.
Nobody will ever know whose fault it was. It was a quick-read off a blitz, and it remains a mystery as to whether Reggie Wayne ran the wrong route, didn’t run the right route fast enough, or, god-forbid, Peyton Manning let go of an errant throw.
Either way, if Peyton Manning doesn’t throw that pick, lord knows how this one ends up.
It Was Over When…
Manning called the first of Indy’s three remaining time-outs in the fourth quarter. Because, believe it or not, the Colts still had a very good chance at pulling this one out towards the end. Especially if number 18 was still their quarterback – which, last time I checked, he was.
But with 1:16 still remaining on the clock, Manning burned the first of his three time-outs on the Saints’ three-yard line, essentially mathematically eliminating the possibility of a Colts victory barring an onside kick.
Because as we already know, the possibility of one onside kick in a game is freakishly low. But two of them? Well, that would be downright insane. Even David Tyree can admit to that.
Had the Colts driven in and scored without burning any timeouts, say, punched it in with still a minute left, all they would have had to do was stop the Saints on three consecutive downs – something they had already done earlier in the game.
They then would have been able to call timeouts after every stop, possibly receiving the ball with about 40-45 seconds left on the clock, plenty for arguably the best quarterback in the nation to work some Super Bowl magic.
It was made a moot point after Wayne dropped the touchdown on fourth down, but even so, a bit shocking to see Manning break down like that in the final minute of play.
This Movie in a Youtube Video:
Snookie: Peyton Manning. That Dude’s Fist: Tracy Porter.
Talk about a knock out. And only in one shot! Come at me bro!
Surprise of the Night:
Peyton Manning’s apparent inability to call plays in the huddle. Seriously, there was one drive in the third quarter where I think he audibled every single play. He really has to work on that if he wants to become one of the NFL’s elite, or other teams will start to exploit it by screaming at the line of scrimmage and waving their hands so nobody can here him change the play.
Part of it is probably Jim Caldwell’s fault, because as Peyton most likely figured out halfway through the game, “34-X-Slants-Sunnyside-with-Bacon” is not an actual play, rather it’s one of the options on the Denny’s menu Caldwell was reading from the entire game.
Naturally, after hearing “45-Blue-Buttermilk-No-Syrup” for the seventh time in a row, Manning began to change the plays afterwards. But in Caldwell’s defense, can you really blame him? It was free Grand Slam day on Tuesday after all…
Most Memorable Performance:
Tracy Porter was good. Drew Brees was great. But let’s be serious. Jay-Z, Rhianna, and E.S. Posthumus. I mean, has there ever been a better pre-game performance in the world? Because if there was, I would love to see it.
Best Guest Appearance:
The Peyton Pout. It’s so back. And I so missed it over the past few years. Beautiful. It's sort of like that old girlfriend - you got sick of her after a while, so you broke it off. But then you see her again a few years later and you're like - damn, why'd i do that. She's smokin'.
Yeah. The Peyton pout is definitely that chick. Smokin'.
Most Painful Performance:
Dwight Freeny. You have to admire the effort. But in the end, it was just too much for him to handle. Watching him limp around in the third quarter, essentially as useless as Jim Caldwell, you just had to feel for the guy.
In other news – where the hell was Robert Mathis? He had both his ankles last time I checked. What’s his excuse?
This Game as a Song:
Probably Don’t Stop Believing by Journey. It’s heart-warming, catchy, and let’s face it, you’re going to be singing it for the next 40 years. And unlike Mambo Number 5, this baby isn’t ever going to get old.
I was going to say Macho Man by the Village People, just because it’s manly and awesome – but the second I pictured Peyton Manning in a headdress, I couldn’t take it seriously anymore. Plus, the thought of Drew Brees as a pretty-sure-he's-gay biker is damaging enough.
This Game as a Movie:
Lord of the Rings Trilogy.
Honestly, this had to be it. Two epic forces – good and evil – in search of one thing: the Super Bowl Ring. It's perfect.
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It’s full of epic battles, powerful opponents, and a tiny ugly Gollum guy who desperately wants a ring but never gets one (Tony Dungee.)
The Colts, for obvious reasons, are the evil, led by none other than the Witch King, Peyton Manning. Their expansive empire is watched over – and really, that’s all he does – by the great Eye of Jim Caldwell. Who honestly, does nothing but watch the entire three movies.
Meanwhile, the Saints are led by the mighty wizard himself, Sean Payton, and an assembly of courageous men - Aragorn (Brees), Legolas (Sharper) and Gimli (Shockey…alright cmon, they’re almost twins.) Those pesky hobbits can be the Saints running backs, because there are a lot of them, and while they’re important to the story, they’re really not that essential. But Marques Colston can be Frodo - because he drops the ring at the end. Butterfingers.
And just for fun, Brett Favre can be all the Ents. Because they’re old as hell.
In the only movie that had a battle epic enough, the two forces colliding full fledge in the palace of Minis-Tirith, also known as Dolphin Stadium. And while they waged war for hours with seemingly no end in sight, all the while it appeared the Colts had the edge. After all, no mortal man can kill the Witch King in all his glory.
Except if that mortal man is a chick. Enter, Tracy Porter, girly name and all. His interception outdid the magical quarterbacking evil, freeing the city of New Orleans from the tyranny of failure.
It was a beautiful ending to a beautiful story. And while it may not have been the most memorable football game of the past 25 years, it certainly carries the most weight.
What happened to the city of New Orleans all those years ago was simply tragic. But what happened to the city of New Orleans Sunday night will never be forgotten - by the players on the field, the city of New Orleans and everyone who watched.
They earned that win. The team and the city both. And it’s very rare in this day and age that you can say that.
Congratulations, New Orleans. You deserve it.
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