So, Saturday night, Mickelle and I went to the store at halftime of the Saints game. The streets were absolutely deserted. It looked like it did a year ago. There was no one anywhere. We got home for the end of the game. When the Eagles punted, stupidly, with less than 2 minutes remaining, I knew it would get crazy in the city. I went out on my front porch to listen. You could hear the eruption of happiness when the clock ran out. Car alarms started going off everywhere. People came out on their porches to yell, whoop, holler, shout the joy out. I want the Saints to win, because this city needs something to unite it, something to raise morale, spirits, and hopes. Also, if they lose, people will die. That sobering fact makes me really really want the Saints to win.
I don't care all that much for professional football. I like to play football, but watching it is boring. On occasion I do like to watch a game, and I'll always watch kids play, but it doesn't hold my attention the way a good game of baseball will. I get tired of the posturing and bad sportsmanship in the NFL and the NBA. In baseball, if you hotdog, the next plate appearance will find you with a baseball in your ear. There is no corresponding brushback intimidation in football, evidently football players choose to settle their differences off the field. Also, I find games with clocks on them to be uncessarily forced. For example, I would like to see football be a game of 12 possessions. The team with the highest score after those possessions wins. Basketball, first team to 100 points wins.
The biggest Saints fan I've ever known was the guy I used to work with at Pizza Hut in Provo, Utah, Sheldon Kirkham. Sheldon has forgotten more about football than I'll ever know. He lived and died by the Saints. I've tried to stay in touch with him through the years, but lately I haven't been able to contact him. Sheldon, if you read this, post a comment with your email address.
We had the air conditioning on all weekend. It has been muggy and hot. This morning when I went outside to take Marley to school and myself too, I was astounded at the hordes of mosquitoes waiting around to devour my blood. I've never ever seen them this thick, and I lived in Costa Rica for two years. One thing is certain. The high tomorrow is supposed to be 46F. The ants shall feast soon on mosquito carcasses.