18 February 2010

Highway I-5 ride

I know I promised a more complete set of thoughts on being a Saints fan for 36 years before they won a Super Bowl, but something else caught my attention while dropping my middle child at youth group tonight. Actually, something ripped my heart out, stomped and spit on it, then kicked it down the storm drain.

The highway is I-5, and there's two sons, plus a daughter, but other than that, God have mercy, I could have written every line.

I hope someday they understand why things are the way they are. But they're smart kids, and I know they'll someday see.

But right now, 532 days, 5 hours, and 25 minutes is killin me. But the hug I just got from William helps a little. Pickin up my Chicklet in about an hour will, too. And the prayers I'll say with Tim will be just a little longer, and more thankful, tonight.

07 February 2010

Super Bowl XLIV: Saints XXXI, Colts XVII

Monday morning, 12 December 1977, a 12 year old kid sits in some class or other (probably math, I hated that teacher), doodling on his notebook instead of paying attention. Drawing a little fleur-de-lis on the back of his spiral notebook, he writes "Beaten by Tampa Bay??"

One day earlier, the team he'd been rooting for for about 4 years became the first NFL team ever to lose to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Tampa did not win a game until the next to last game of their second season. In fairness to the Saints, Tampa also beat the (then) St. Louis Cardinals the following week, but dem Saints was da foist!

Today, Sunday, 7 February 2010, 2100 PST, here I sit, still watching replays. More to come later, but for now, I just want to relax and wrap my head around the words "2010 World Champion New... Orleans... SAINTS!!!!!!!!!

02 February 2010

Jack Brisco (1941-2010)

Jack Brisco. A gentleman in and out of the ring. One of my favorite wrestlers as a kid, back when they had to make it look real and had to know how to wrestle and not just fly around the ring and run their mouths. I remember seeing him live in the old Mid-South Coliseum. Rest easy, Jack, until God rings the bell for us all.