High scoring shoot out? Didn’t happen. More late hits than some desperate singles during ‘last call’ at closing time? Nope. An aerial circus? Ground games devouring yardage big chunks at a time? Unh uh.
Garrett Hartley staring the season not as the reincarnation of Morten Andersen, but as the next Martin Grammatica? Yep.
Last night was not as envisioned. Not as forecast. But, just like the hurricane season so far, still happily so for the residents of the Gulf South.
It wasn’t the kind of game anyone expected, but it was the sort of result everyone around here hoped for.
It wasn’t déjà vu, but it was déjà two. A second meeting and a second beating of the Vikings in the Superdome in the last eight months.
Brett Favre admitted this summer that in coming back again his mind was telling him one thing, but his body was telling him another. After last night, each might be reaching the same conclusion.
In choosing often to rush three and drop eight, the Saints required Favre to read more often than react. And, as all of us grandparents – as he knows – reading now requires more time, bigger print and glasses for better clarity.
The soon-to-be 41-year-old quarterback didn’t have the help of spectacles last night. The Saints did. The sideshows around the game were more entertaining than what occurred on the field under the big top on Poydras Street.
But the two combined gave the sellout crowd its money’s worth.
Maybe we partied with the Lombardi a little longer than we should have. But who has more experience dealing with hangovers than us?
Last night we all found a cure for our Super Bowl hangover. Giving the Vikings more of the hair of the dog what bit them.