Saints 27, Eagles 24.
The Eagles fan in the seat beside me (we were in a surprisingly large pocket of green just below the rafters of the Superdome) brought his lucky flask of Jack Daniels. So I shared sips of whiskey with strangers for each touchdown that the Birds scored. Right about the time the flask ran dry, the Eagles ran out of gas. Coincidence?
Probably. The Saints and their fans deserved to win the game, and the sentimental "gotta-root-for-the-good-story" part of me is glad they did. I rooted for them all season except for the two weekends that they played -- and beat -- us. If we had to lose, I'm glad it was to give New Orleans the chance to keep going. Of course, I'd rather that we didn't have to lose. But that's just part of being an Eagles fan. Sigh.
But the football-oblivious boyfriend has decided to become a Saints fan. So hopefully we'll make more trips to the Superdome next season. Till then, we'll be rooting for the Saints from home.
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