The Saints

I hardly know what to write about the Saints right now. The recent revelations about defense coordinator Gregg Williams setting up a bounty program, not just for Saints defense players to hard hit opposition players, but actually with bonuses to *hurt* them and them carted off the field. Something like 27 players were involved and of course Sean Payton had to have known and just turned a blind eye to it. What with the rumors swirling around town about Payton's possibly having had a child with a Saintsations cheerleader (thus prompting Mrs. Payton to decamp back to Houston, in a pricey neighborhood), it's almost enough, just about enough, to make one lose faith in the Coach's probity.

As a pastor, of course I deplore this whole thing. Good hard legal hits are one thing, but I cannot condone hurting other players *on purpose.* That players who were already being paid more than the average -- or even the above-average -- worker needed added incentives to do what was, after all, only their job (the legal part anyway) is especially disheartening. That Jonathan Vilma, the "quarterback" of the defense, was deeply involved is just about heart-breaking, we had such respect and affection for him.

I also cannot agree with those near-rabid Saints fans who claim that "everyone does it" or that it's why we watch football and thus it's all "no big deal." I for one was not watching and cheering for and crying for the Saints because I thought they were just like all the other teams, doing whatever it is all the other teams do. We were supposed to be special, different, *above* all that. If that is innocent to the point of naîve, then I am guilty.

As a Saints fan, my other problem is that this ridiculous, sad, disgusting affair didn't even get us in the Superbowl. It's not like I *want* the Saints to cheat or act like thugs in order to win, but there is something in me that says, dang, we went through all that and they STILL didn't win.

To put the big ol' cherry on top of the sundae, now the Saints front office -- Mickey Loomis and the Bensons -- can't close the deal with Drew Brees. They had to slap a franchise tag on him, for heaven's sake, since they couldn't close the deal with e long-term contract. The local media say he's mad, and who can blame him? His team, that he has performed so wonderfully for, is just about falling apart around his ears, and they were so short-sighted and stupid, they couldn't even see that they needed to change the agenda and make the news stories be about Drew and his big long-term contract, and NOT about the bounty for injury stories. But they had to go and mess that up too. If we lose Drew, you'll know who to blame.

The coming season does not look good. The league wants to make an example of some team to show that the NFL is serious about protecting the health and safety of players, and they're none too happy about all the "I support the Coach and the GM completely" statements coming from Tom Benson. They are very likely going to slap the Saints with all kinds of penalties, suspending Loomis and probably Payton too, big whopping fines, and snatching draft choices.

It's an ugly story, an ugly scene, all the way around. No heroes to cheer for.

I kind of feel the way I used to when I was younger when I was betrayed by a boyfriend, and I'm not looking forward to next season.

Springtime Makes Me Happy

Since the end of February, it's been spring in belle NOLA. As March has come in, spring has just gotten stronger and stronger. The weather is mild, tending toward the warm side, with some March breezes to blow things around. It's gotten so hot that a couple of times, Big Man and I have had to turn on the air conditioning just to be comfortable.

The old oak trees are touched with feathery pale green, the Japanese magnolias are past blooming and coming out with full leaf. The red buds and forsythia are glowing, each in their own spectrum. Flowers of all kinds are showing their colors -- tropical hibiscus, gorgeous snap dragons, azaleas in every shade and hue, tulips and daffodils bobbing their heads. petunias, phlox, flowers I don't even know the names of. From the most formal expensive gardens on St. Charles Avenue and Prytania Street to unexpected empty lots turned gardens in Central City, to window boxes at apartment complexes, to lovingly cared-for gardens in Lakeview, flowers are in riotous bloom, and when I drive by, no matter how I'm feeling, I smile.

Springtime makes me happy, and I love springtime best when it arrives in late February and early March.

Another Wonderful Carnival

I didn't write any detailed descriptions of parades and events this past Carnival season -- mostly because I just didn't want to, didn't want to take time off from parades and parties and costume-making to write. I also didn't want to clean house, cook, wash dishes, clean out the cat litter, do laundry, pay bills, balance bank statements, work on IRS, or anything else. Just couldn't make myself do anything but enjoy Carnival -- and enjoy it I did!

Now I really understand why Al "Carnival Time" Johnson sings, "Throw my baby out the window, let the joint burn down -- all because it's Carnival time!"

Maybe I'll do better next Mardi Gras, but I doubt it.