"...The Saints Go Marching In..."

I wanted to write a little something tonight to document history. The New Orleans Saints won a NFC playoff game against the Philadelphia Eagles tonight and I'm pretty sure this is one of the signs of the end of the world. While listening to the sports commentators after the game, I learned that this is only the second playoff game the Saints have ever won in their 40 year history. I think it's about damn time. True Saints fans have waited long enough to be able to brag about our boys in black and gold. Next week, they play for the NFC title and then it will be possible to put the words "Saints" and "Super Bowl" in the same sentence. Oh sure, those two words have been in sentences together before, but it was usually followed by "snowball's chance in Hell" and "when Hell freezes over." For a team named after holy men, Hell gets tossed around with them a lot. I for one, am extremely happy to think about the Saints and NFL playoff games in a good way, but as happy as I am, I know I can't hold a candle to the emotions my father would be having if he were alive today.

My father, Nick Picinich, was a "die-hard, never say never, love them no matter what" Saints fan. He watched every game they played on tv. He never saw a game in person, because he couldn't see paying big money for football tickets, but the world stood still for two and a half hours whenever his beloved black and gold boys took the field. He stood behind them through the years with Kenny "The Snake" Stabler and cussed the fans who wore paper bags on their heads and chanted about the "Aints." He thought it was just fine for Bobby Hebert to mouth cuss words on national tv and was convinced Morton Anderson was Heaven sent. He talked me into taking a math class I didn't need in college because Fred Turner had gone back to college in the summer to finish his degree and I had to be in the same class with him. The day I came home with a note Fred had written him on a napkin (after I accosted him in the cafeteria) was a story he told to everyone - repeatedly. Yes, my daddy was a true, die-hard Saints fan. If someone would have cut him, he wouldn't have bled red, he would have bled black or gold.

When Daddy had heart surgery and was in ICU at the local hospital he had a bad reaction to the pain medication. He became combative and was constantly trying to get out of the bed. One day the nurse called me and was frantic. She couldn't get him calmed down and was at a lose as what to do to help him. I told her to get a tv in his room and turn it to channel 9. The Saints game was coming on and that would make a world of difference in his behavior and make her job much easier. She told me he was delirious and couldn't watch tv, because he didn't have a clue as to what was going on around him. I told her "get the tv - turn it on - let him watch the Saints and then leave him alone." She called back a few minutes later and said it he was fine. He was smiling, watching the game, and not trying to pull out the iv's or jump out of the bed. I just smiled, grabbed his Saints coffee cup and headed to the hospital. When I got to the hospital, he was content and watching the cute little cheerleaders waiting for the half-time show to end and the game to start back up.

Right before Daddy died, he had to go to a nursing home. He only stayed a week, but he spent that week wrapped in his Saints blanket with the nurses watching a rare Monday night Saints game. He was happy. He had a pretty lady sitting with him, a Saints game on tv, and he was covered in the sacred colors of black and gold. I miss my Daddy a lot, but tonight I felt extremely close to him. As I watched the game I had a feeling of peace about me. I'm not sure what Heaven is like, but I like to think there's a tv up there and Nick was glued to the screen watching his team make history. If the Saints win next week, his fondest wish will be granted and they will be in the Superbowl. I know he'll be watching that game.

Here's a joke for you that Daddy loved: "The devil is surveying Hell and notices that a large group of people are happy and having a party. When he talks to them, they tell him they're from Louisiana and are used to hot weather. The devil turns up the heat and sees that they're still happy and partying. On the third day he decides to change tactics and sends an ice storm throughout Hell thinking the Louisianaians won't know how to handle cold weather. When he goes to check on them, they crying and hugging each other, happy and wild. When he asks them what's going on they laugh and say "Oh, it's a miracle - The Saints won the Super Bowl and Hell froze over." Get ready Mr. Devil, you might need a warm coat, the Saints are marching in!