So, the Saints didn't win the playoff against the Bears. The Bears are the NFC champs and will go to the Super Bowl, while the Saints' season is over. I had a really cool blog entry ready to post if they had won. I didn't prepare anything for a loss; hence, I spent the last two days recovering from disappointment and regaining equanimity. The Bears played better than the Saints and they're going to Miami to play the AFC champs, the Colts. I will root for the Colts, because their quarterback, Peyton Manning, is a New Orleans boy. He's also the son of New Orleans' most beloved living athlete, Archie Manning, himself a former quarterback of the Saints.
No need to discuss the game here--Charles Gramlich has a much better post on it than I could write. I will say, however, that Reggie Bush's 88-yard touchdown run, zig-zagging and dodging his pursuers as only he can do, then turning a flip to get into the end zone and doing his victory dance, was pure joy to watch. I am now hooked on football, Saints football to be precise, and eagerly anticipating next season.
Reflection for the Week: Football parties are not the best way to watch a game. Not if you really want to see and hear it. My table at a popular local restaurant was right opposite the giant TV screen. Unfortunately, the people sitting around me didn't care about the game--they were just there for the food and booze, apparently--and they chattered so much I missed much of the commentary on the game. (Since I'm still a novice at Football Watching, I need to hear the commentators to understand fully what's happening on the field). Not to mention, I had to nod, smile, and appear to be listening whenever the non-football-fans nearby attempted to include me in conversation. The crowning touch, of course, was the boozehound female--a complete stranger--who, at a crucial point in the game, sat down next to me and proceeded to hold forth for the next 20 minutes about Nothing Whatsoever Except Repetitive Drunken Ramblings.
Next time I will stay home to watch the game.