I watch a minimum of one entire football game per year–the Super Bowl. It’s a habit I picked up a four or five years ago, I think, because I got invited to some Super Bowl parties. Who the center and the quarterback are, and what they do, is clear to me. Receiver–well, that’s pretty obvious. The rest of the positions are somewhat of a mystery to me.
We love our Colts here in the Indianapolis area, and especially Peyton Manning, who seems to be as good and decent a man as he is skilled as a player. So I was rooting for the Colts, of course.
Then they started to lose. Or, rather, the Saints started to win. And I found myself torn. They’re the Colts for crying out loud. But I also knew how much a win would mean to New Orleans as it continues to rebuild. A win would have been a cause for celebration in Indianapolis (and Greencastle), of course. In New Orleans, it is, I’m sure, healing and energizing in a unique way.
So congratulations to the Saints. Maybe I’m a fair-weather friend to the Colts (after all, I was living in Baltimore when they snuck away in the middle of the night, and the resentment still lingers). Or maybe the spiritual energy, the will to triumph, that carried the Saints to victory touched me as well.
(Of course, when that guy intercepted the pass and scored that last touchdown, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some voodoo curse going on.)