Well, it’s official. I’m in mourning.
While there’s plenty to be excited about moving forward, a little piece of the collective hearts of Saints fans died last Sunday.
Losing to Tampa Bay hurts. Not only because it was Tom Brady and we’ve historically dominated him (including twice this season already). Not only because it was another ‘what if’ season ending with bitter disappointment. Not only because no matter how good our team is in the regular season, we always find a way to collapse in the playoffs. No. None of that.
It’s the fact that we will never see Drew Brees in a Saints jersey again. And that is really sad.
It’s never easy watching Father Time catch up to your favorite athlete, but we all knew this was coming. I’ve been going back on Youtube to watch old games when Drew Brees was in his prime. It’s almost easy to forget just how insanely good he was. It’s been fun to go back and watch. You should, too.
HE WAS SO GOOD
The fact that he never won MVP is criminal, in the same vein as Steve Carrell never winning an Emmy for The Office. Payton Manning, owner of the biggest head in sports, won the 2009 MVP. Yes, the same year Drew Brees outplayed and out-stat-ted him in almost every single category. Not to mention winning the head-to-head matchup in Superbowl XLIV. To say that Brees’ best years were squandered away with the worst defense in NFL history (literally), would be an obvious under statement.
As I think back on what he’s given this city it really makes me want to cry. I don’t think there has every been a better story in all of Sports, and I truly believe that. He came to our broken city as a broken QB. New Orleans needed a hero. Drew Brees needed a city to believe. How the two came together was almost too good to be true.
Living in New Orleans now, it’s almost easy to forget just how devastated New Orleans was after Katrina. Eighty percent of the city was under water. Eighteen hundred lives were lost. There were those who said that rebuilding a city below sea level was stupid, a waste of tax payer’s money. And if we were being honest with ourselves, we at least admitted there was some logic to that argument. An America without New Orleans wasn’t far fetched. There was major doubt.
But when the Saints stayed (shout out to Paul Tagliabue), it sent a message to the world- we weren’t going anywhere. In just one season we went from the lovable losers to America’s Team. No matter the level of catastrophe we were facing as a city that week, we had the Saints. And when the Saints won on Sunday, well, it was a good week. They made us all proud. And that started with Brees.
I wrote the following in January 2010:
Let's take a moment to imagine a Breesless Saints team. We go 5-11 in 2006. Maybe we get a new head coach and stick around the devastated city for one more year. Maybe we improve to 6-10. Then, like a bread pudding soufflé in front of John Goodman, it’s gone. The team is the San Antonio Saints, or the Los Angeles Saints. Doesn't quite have the same ring to it. It's scary to think about.
But the stars did align. We got a brilliant head coach in Sean Payton who took a chance on a damaged quarterback with little more than a winning attitude. Drew Brees came into this ravaged city and made a vow to himself and to the people that he would bring more than a Superbowl to this city. He vowed to bring pride, hope, and a new way to look at life. He is more than a quarterback, and the Saints are more than a professional football team. They are a hope and a way of life to the people that lost everything.
Four years later we did it. We became World Champions. The city that was almost wiped off the face of the earth. World Champions. That feeling transcended sports. I still get goosebumps thinking about it.
This is why the lessons that sports teach us are so valuable. Sports are the perfect metaphor for life itself. Life isn’t fair. Playing on a team is complicated. Hard work pays off. Losing sucks. Some people cheat and get rewarded (cough, Brady, cough). Other’s play by the rules and get forgotten. Some people just get lucky. And Father Time always wins.
No matter what happens to this team, the memories that I made in that Dome these past 15 years are forever etched in my little gray cells. That’s priceless. And while there are countless people to thank for that, it all started with number Nine and the tone that he set.
Father Time catches us all. It sucks watching your favorite athlete lose his touch. But I hope Drew has some comfort in the fact that he gave it everything. He left it all on the field. He helped millions of people feel like winners when they needed it the most. He inspired millions more. There will never be another #9. Retire his jersey immediately.
Thank you for everything Drew.