Although admittedly, I'm not the biggest NFL fan, when the Saints go to their first Superbowl and you live in Louisiana, you simply must jump on the bandwagon. Now, that's not to say that the men in our family aren't die hard fans. (Well, except my dad, who sticks to his Miami Dolphin roots, and Charlie, who refuses to admit a few short years ago he was a huge Chicago Bears fan!) But the rest of them, oh yeah, tried and true!
And when the Saints did something great, they were there to cheer them on. As if we were in the stadium, we cheered like the players could hear us. Like we were the only ones cheering. Boy, did we cheer!
But we still believed!
And when things got even worse, we debated game plans and statistics. Just imagine that Josh (my brother, on the left) is the head coach and Mickey (my uncle, on the right) is the assistant.
And we jumped and screamed and went absolute bizerks when a call went our way...
And the interception? Oh, the interception. Well, you see, in our house the interception will forever be remembered as the moment that Uncle Mickey realized his beloved Saints had just won their first ever Superbowl... and for just a moment he lost his mind...
and the spot with the hole in the wall, the one where he butted his head, will forever be remembered as the result of one of the happiest, most painful moments in his life.