Reporter's Note: President Obama likes basketball. Me, not so much. Seems like way too much “two points here, two points there” and what is it that makes so many multi-million dollar athletes incapable of sinking a free throw? Football on the other hand, I like; and never more than when the Saints come marching in.
Tom Foreman | BIO
Dear Mr. President,
I know that I usually write about politics, because after all you are the president and it sort of makes sense. But this is Sunday, and I really want to talk about football. Yes, I know, it’s a terribly “guy” thing, but there you have it.
I used to joke that the best part of being a Saints fan was that all the other fans in the country felt sorry for you, so you could get free wings wherever you went. We endured in the long dark years (which we now refer to as…uh…well, the long dark years…) defeats of such epic proportions, most other football followers could only shake their heads in disbelief. I personally saw seemingly insurmountable leads crumble like sand castles in the closing seconds, not minutes, but seconds of some games. I watched our quarterbacks, at critical moments, throw interceptions that virtually defied the laws of physics. I witnessed holes open in our defense when we could least afford them, as vast and mysterious as the Bermuda triangle. If Job had faced even a few of our seasons, perhaps even his faith would have finally cracked.
And yet, like any true Saints fan, I could never bring myself to turn away from them. Like so many of my siblings in the Brotherhood of the Superdome, I endured the excruciating difficulties, remained patient, and somehow always thought that things would get better. And this year, I must say it sure looks promising.
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