Today, it's short and it's personal. Today this blog is just one more celebration of the joyful fact that the New Orleans Saints actually did it! Drew Brees and company won the Super Bowl, riding the resilience of their drowned city, playing for all of us who've ever had to bounce back.
My condolences to Colts fans, of course. But you've won many, many games. And you will win many, many more. You are lead by Peyton Manning, who, we are endlessly told, studies so hard -- and certainly always looks so serious on the sidelines. Surely it's appropriate in these dreadfully serious times for a quarterback who actually looks as though he's playing a game to carry off this year's Superbowl MVP award.
Charlie and I watched last night with hope in our hearts -- if not expectations in our head. Both of us were decked out in the rag-tag detritus of my long-ago New Orleans visits. I wore Mardi-Gras beads; Charlie, who's not been to the Big Easy yet, wore my old New Orleans Jazz Festival t-shirt draped over his head like a kufiya.
So today, as WMRA's blogger-in-chief, I'm taking a journalistic break. I just cannot wrap my mind around anything but celebration!
"Who dat? Who dat? Who dat say dey gunna beat dem Saints?"
* from Wikipedia: The word pompatus (also spelled pompitous, pronounced /ˈpɒmpɨtəs/) is a neologism used in the lyrics of Steve Miller's 1973 rock song "The Joker"[1]:
- Some people call me the space cowboy.
- Yeah! Some call me the gangster of love.
- Some people call me Maurice,
- 'Cause I speak of the pompatus of love.
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