
MIAMI -- It was a convergence of voodoo and love and confetti, all the things a visitor feels walking through New Orleans yet rarely felt by the good people who live there. Finally, on a Sunday night in south Florida that didn't happen unless you believe in marriage and Santa Claus and a world without taxes and war, something beautiful blossomed for a pained city that has experienced too much death and destruction and dearly needed a CARE package.
The good people were blessed in the form of the Saints, a team once so rotten that fans called them the Aints and wore bags over their heads, a team once so embarrassing that two young children named Peyton and Eli Manning asked their mother if they could boo with the other fans in the Superdome, a team once so hopeless and pathetic that a local sportscaster named Buddy Diliberto said he'd wear a dress on Bourbon Street if they ever reached the Super Bowl.
A good guess is that dresses and all types of clothing were being removed on Bourbon Street until dawn. That's because the Saints, the pride of Who Dat Nation and a team that almost left town after Hurricane Katrina, won the Su ... Sup ... Supe ...




