One city. One love. One team.
Thousands of people from all walks of life; from the dock workers to the lawyers and the chefs and musicians; all sharing in one dream. It’s been 40-plus years in the making, but as the old adage goes; the older the berry, the sweeter the juice.
It’s impossible for me to write about the Saints, without talking about my late grandfather, Paw Paw. I don’t think I’m alone in this. With the exception of the Saints fans who were born before 1967, I’m sure that most of the “Who Dats” of today got “it” (and by “it” I mean their love for the Saints) from somebody, whether it be a mother, father, grandparent or aunt or uncle.
Chapter 1 - The Long Journey
They say the measure of man, or woman for that matter, is how one prevails in the face of adversity. If nothing else, New Orleans Saints fans have an intimate understanding of adversity. Read More
Well my quarterback dilemma has been resolved after a close call. I let Roethlesberger stay with Karin; a move I’m sure I’ll regret by 3 p.m. today. And, like a fool, I put my hope into Tennessee Titans duo Vince Young at QB and Kenny Britt.
If nothing else Fantasy Football is a good weekly reminder of why I should never become a professional gambler. I’ve got junkie genes and I’m always willing to throw caution to the wind on a wing and a prayer.
Scratch that.
At Week 13 I set out to begin both a long, humorous look at how I became a Johnny-Come-Lately, renegade Fantasy Football waiver wire junkie; as well as give a week by week look at my Sunday lineups. You know – the smacks, the spills, the thrill of victory; the agony of…Well, you get the picture.
There’s at least three things in this life I said I’d never do: anal sex; IV drugs and fantasy football. Well, two out of three ain’t bad. I’m not sure why, but not unlike anal sex and IV drug use, there was some sort of ugly stigma attached to fantasy football.
The first thing Trent Jacobs registered as he began the slow climb to wakefulness was the sweet aromatic smell of freshly brewing coffee. This, the fact that coffee was brewing, gave him quite a start. This shock was only solidified when he glanced at his digital alarm clock, which was flashing all zeros.
“Oh fuck,” he muttered springing upward in bed and reaching over to the nightstand on his side of the bed, grabbing his watch.
It read 9:35. He was late. The damned storms that rolled through in the night, he realized, must have knocked the power out. He nearly tripped over his slippers as he tore out of the bed, headed to the bathroom.
Being late to the office wasn’t that big of a deal. Trent was, after all, senior partner in the law firm; which specialized in maritime law. Half the time he worked from home anyway. However, the big meeting with some of the reps from Anderson Shipping Company; a particularly high profile and quite possibly lucrative client if ever there was one in this Godforsaken industry, was scheduled for eleven.
The first thing Trent actually felt as he made his way to the bathroom was the horrid throbbing in his temples.
“Christ,” he muttered to himself. “I really tied one on last night.”
Wow kids. The Flu is in full effect and in the immortal words of..hmm was Cool Moe D…I’m “illin” and not in a good way. Be that as it may, the show must go on. There’s no stopping the “Birthday Party” in fact, as I type this I am loading up on antibiotics, grapefruit and Popeyes fried chicken. Hey, if a healthy dose of Popeye’s doesn’t kill and flush this damned bug from my system, nuthin will.
Well kids, I’m not sure exactly how this came about. I don’t, as a rule, partake in these sorta things. Be that as it may, my Plurk buddy Rupe has a blog. He interviewed somebody; I think; and then was supposed to “tag” six people or something. You see how well I follow directions? At the end of it all I found myself saying “Okay Rupe, sure. Interview me.”
Kessler suddenly veered into a parking lot of Texaco station and pulled over to the edge of the lot, near the air and water hoses.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“Checking my fluid levels,” he replied. “What else?”
