The Mind of a Saints Fan
Recently, I journeyed to Mid Town Los Angeles watch NFL games with a friend of mine who happens to be an Eagles fan. It was this past Saturday; he was just a tad disappointed in the game’s outcome. As the Cowboys continued to ram their Texas sized genitals into the bowls of Eagle nation, the conversation turned from that game, to the impending Saints game the next week. At that point, we still didn’t know who we played, and my friend made a remark that basically went something like “Shit man, another season with no Super Bowl ring for Donovan. I guess that’s the good thing about being a Saints Fan, no expectation, you guys are as happy going 9-7 as you are going 13-3.”
I am a very level headed guy. It’s actually something I pride myself on. If you ask anyone who knows me, they’ll say that despite my large stature (6’4 230 pounds) I’m a very patient, gentlemanly type of fellow. However at this statement, at this completely fucking silly and asinine assessment of what it means to follow the Saints, I lost it. My mind could not process the level of assfuckery that it would take to actually believe this. To me, his remark was basically saying that a starving person with a diet of shit, should just be happy to find a little corn in it from time to time. To all of you who think this about us Saints fans, I would like to extend to you a very enthusiastic, hardy, loving, calculated, pure, genuine, thoughtful, hopeful, exuberant, life affirming, sensual and meaningful FUCK YOU. That’s for you. That’s how we feel.
After a while of experiencing pure Negro Anger in the midst of shocked and petrified Caucasians, I was able to dial it back a little and explain a couple things to them regarding Saints Fandom. As I am all about connecting, I started off with something all Whites love and understand, the 1999 feature film masterpiece Fight Club, starring Brad Pitt. The best scene in the movie to me, the tone setter, is where Lou the tavern owner tries to kick the Fight Club out of the basement, and Tyler Durden responds in a way so grotesque that the bar owner basically submits to the will of his pain and strife. Here’s the clip (nothing after 1:46 applies here, but I suggest you watch it anyway, Fight Club is awesome).
Look at that shit. Lou is the rest of the NFL. Tyler Durden is us Saints fans. You guys don’t know where we’ve been, you have no idea what we’ve been through. Since I realize this, I also realize that it’s unfair to get mad at the masses that don’t know shit. Therefore I’m going to help you guys out. I’m going to tell the rest of the world what Saints fans think.
1. We think we need to win every game 100-0.
This is what made this year’s team so special. For most of the year, we were dominant. That’s totally new to us. In years past, even when we were good, we always seemed one possession away from disaster and despair. Remember this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kTGco82JKHo ? Okay, so we pull of what would surely have been the greatest play of maybe this decade in a meaningful game, and Carney shanks the fucking extra point. That’s pretty fucking impossible. It doesn’t happen. Still, I remember my father not even batting an eye. “If it’s going to happen to someone son, it’s going to be us. That’s who we are.” Because of things like this, we don’t want any close ones. We no longer have the will.
2. We need to continue our love/hate relationship with Reggie Bush.
Another thing I hear from non-tortured fans is “Why do you guys hate on Reggie so much, he’s good, just not great, give him a break, what do you guys expect out of him?” Hmmmm, that’s tough to answer. I’ll try though. We expect 4,000 rushing yards per season, 250 receptions and we want him to play a little safety. How’s that for you? See, the problem with reggie is not reggie. It’s REGGIE. It’s the capital letter player we think he should be. Let me give you an analogy, one the fellas will surely get. Let’s say you meet a girl with gorgeous eyes, a perfect set of moist lips, and a six inch tongue. You end up getting her out of pure good fortune, and you’re certain that based on her physical attributes, you’re in store for a lifetime of blowjob bliss. She’s a can’t-miss dick sucker, you’re sure of it. She starts off showing promise and has her moments, but there’s just something missing. You’re forced to bring in other chicks to help her carry the load. Add to this the fact that one of your boys went to college with her and told you that she used to be a fucking expert. Like an award winning, once in a generation, fellatio prodigy. It’s as if she came to you and forgot about the fact that a Blowjob is all about enthusiasm, passion and determination. She might never have them. She just ain’t no pro bowler. And you can’t ever forgive her for fooling you.
3. We don’t want to waste Drew Brees.
We love you Drew. I love you. It’s almost unhealthy. We’ve never, ever, ever, ever had anything like you before. You are actually good. Like, you’re GOOD. You’re not a nice guy that puts up nice numbers every three games, you’re a fucking video game. You make up chants. When they show you doing those chants, I do them too. That’s how invested I am. You’re also not coming around again. It won’t happen. Drew, please be here forever. Please never get older. Heath Shuler. Danny Wuerffel. Jeff Blake was good for three seconds, Aaron Brooks thought that an interception was the funniest fucking thing in the world. Bobby Hebert’s son can’t block. Drew you are already the greatest Quarterback in Saints History. Archie’s sons went to SEC rivals so I don’t give a fuck about him. Drew, we feel the need to win, we have a want to win.
4. We know you other fans think the shit is funny.
Don’t act like you don’t laugh at us. We know you do. You think the paper bag shit is funny. You think the “Aints” is funny. You don’t take us or our state seriously. I’m from Baton Rouge, you’ve never been there. The Saints play in New Orleans, a city full of liquor and tit flashing to you. When the 49ers and the Redskins have losing seasons, you wish they would get it together. When we play badly, you accept it as status quo. You think we’re the Clippers. You think we’re a fucking joke. You are the fucking joke. We’re tired of this shit. We have a want. A want to fucking rub it in your faces. We’ve been loyal to this team. We may have flirted with other teams, just to feel something, but we are Saints fans. WE NEED EACH OTHER. We know you like to see us fail. We’re fed the fuck up with you’re bullshit.
5. We want to play in, win, and have sex in the Super Bowl.
We are one of the only teams left to never to go. If we go, you have no idea how many illegitimate children of various races will be born. We will give to the world Creoles in the name of the Saints. I can go ahead and promise three or maybe four. After we win, we will birth a new generation of Who Dat Nation to wipe away the sins of our former fans. No more paper bags and no condoms. Raw dicking the NFL and any woman who will say yes. Making babies and memories. Super Bowl rings followed by teething rings. Banners and bottles. We need to get there. We need to win the NFC championship game in the Dome, then go to Miami, play the game, win the game, then walk around South Beach rubbing your face in our South Louisiana foolishness. Eat this gumbo ho. Have some Zapps, bitch. The Saints are coming.