Greyhounds & Saints

It was not expected. Not with such a high-scoring offense, led by future Hall of Fame quarterback, Drew Brees.

With 73,000 fans screaming at the top of their lungs early in the 1st quarter, the New Orleans Saints found themselves down 14-0 in the divisional rounds of the National Football League playoffs. The majority of fans began to realize they should never underestimate the defending Superbowl champions  Philadelphia Eagles, led by postseason magician, Nick Foles.

Conversely, never underestimate fans with record decibel level aspirations and a team that posted a 13-3 regular season record, winning their division easily and leaving no doubt this team was for real. It was only the first quarter. There was plenty of game left. The New Orleans Saints had massacred the Eagles earlier in the season, 48-7. Still, this was the postseason and all bets were off, no matter who may have won the regular season match-up.

The Saints responded. The defense improved and the offense took control of the clock. Using some of Coach Sean Peyton’s gambling tendencies, a ball-control offense, a veteran quarterback who was 2 days away from turning 40 throwing two touchdowns, and a couple of Marcus Lattimore interceptions on Nick Foles led the Saints to a 20-14 victory over the Philadelphia Eagles. Afterwards watching and celebrating brought back memories of a different game.  A game from my childhood. My first game.

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Late Friday afternoon, October 25^th, 1974, my mom pulled her Volkswagen Beetle into the parking lot of the Greyhound Bus Station in Morgan City, La. We went inside the station, walked to the small ticket window and were greeted by a Greyhound employee wearing black Dickies brand work pants and a cobalt blue jacket. The jacket zipped in the front and had a Greyhound patch on one side with vertical red and white stripes on the other. After a quick exchange between the employee and my mom, I was holding a round-trip bus ticket to New Orleans.

It may seem unusual for a 10-year-old kid to take a Greyhound bus to New Orleans alone, but in 1974 it was safe to do, and actually I had already made a few trips by myself prior to this particular October pilgrimage. My mom would hand me over to the bus driver and I would sit in the first seat on the passenger side of the bus, close to the driver and occupying the best seat for viewing the road ahead.

With stops in Thibodaux, Raceland, Boutte, colorful passengers from every walk of life embarked and disembarked, giving this young passenger great people-watching opportunities and from time to time, someone to talk to when the mood struck. Back then, smoking was allowed just about everywhere, including Greyhound buses. From my seat in the front, I was only a half a bus away from a dense cloud of cigarette smoke that managed to blanket the last nine or ten rows of the rolling stainless steel scenic cruiser. You always knew when someone had taken a trip on a Greyhound bus because that stuffy, stale cigarette air clung to your clothes and your hair until you could take a shower to rid yourself of the odor.

Two hours later and the scenic cruiser pulled into the Greyhound Bus and Amtrak Train station in downtown New Orleans. Waiting for me at the station was my oldest sister, Sheila. Living on the Westbank of New Orleans in Algiers, Sheila, her husband, Dave, and her two young kids, Kimberly and Don, would see me visit often in the coming years.

After a quick hello and a hug from Sheila, we piled into her car. Sheila was a fast driver. Normally, after a quick turn here, then a quick turn there, a rolling stop everywhere and we would be on the Greater New Orleans Bridge crossing the Mississippi River in a matter of minutes. This time, Sheila took a different turn and told me she had something to show me.

Less than 5 minutes later, Sheila turned onto Poydras Street where a gleaming metal spaceship looking structure was being built.  Like giant egrets standing guard over a polished weird-shaped egg, huge cranes back-lit by huge floodlights sat idle for the evening. It was at that moment I observed the soon-to-be New Orleans Superdome for the first time. A temporary fence surrounded the site and just like Sheila and I, spectators, gawkers, and tourists had arrived to peer through the fence at what would soon be the home of the New Orleans Saints. Sporting Kodak Instamatic cameras with disposable flashes on top, people were anxious to see the next generation of sports venues, but for now, Tulane Stadium played host to the relatively new NFL franchise, the Saints.

Two days later, on Sunday morning, the skies were clear and the temperature was in the mid-60’s when I stepped into a sea of black and gold at Tulane Stadium in New Orleans. The raucous crowd was fired up and ready to cheer on the New Orleans Saints as they faced the Philadelphia Eagles.

Led by quarterback Archie Manning, the second overall pick in the 1971 NFL draft, the Saints faced veteran quarterback Roman Gabriel, who after 11 years with the Los Angeles Rams, was in the twilight years of his NFL career but coming off an incredible 1973 Pro Bowl season, passing for 3,219 yards and 23 touchdowns for the Eagles.

I know the rules regarding crowd noise have changed since then, but I remember toward the end of the game, the Saints fans were yelling so loud the game was held up for nearly 30 minutes when the Eagles tried to score. My ears were ringing the rest of the day from that experience. This stadium didn’t have a top on it and it was that loud. Hard to imagine what the Superdome is like now where the sound has no place to go.

I couldn’t believe the size of the stadium. I could feel the noise, cheers, and shouts vibrating in my chest throughout the game. For nearly 4 hours my face held a permanent smile. I don’t remember why exactly, but Sheila had offered to take me to the game. Since my niece and nephew were so small, I’m sure my brother in law, Dave, stayed home with them. So, on this grand Fall day, Sheila, myself, David O’Bannon (a friend of my sister’s family and one of his high school friend) joined in the mass of hysteria and joyous celebration as the Saints held on to beat the Philadelphia Eagles, 14-10.

I’m not for certain, but it seems like I floated out of the stadium that afternoon. A Saints pennant in my hand, a wide grin on my face and cherished memories in my mind forever, I became a Saints fan for life. For years to come, Archie Manning’s number 8 would be found on my raggedy old jerseys that I wore playing football with my friends in my front yard.

That football season would be the last year of football in that historic old stadium. It had been the home to Tulane Football from 1926 until 1974. Built on an old plantation where sugar was first granulated, the original construction cost approximately $300,000 and was made mostly from brick and concrete. As the site of the annual Sugar Bowl, Tulane Stadium was often informally referred to as “Sugar Bowl Stadium.”

Late that Sunday afternoon back in 1974, my sister once again pulled up in front of the Greyhound Bus Station so I could catch my bus and make my way home. As the bus pulled out of the station, the last patches of daylight were fading in the western sky. As I stared out the window while sugarcane fields, houses, businesses and people and cars blurred by, my mind saw gridiron giants throwing and kicking a pigskin, adults and kids cheering on their team, vendors moving up and down the stairs hawking hot dogs, peanuts and beer, cheerleaders shaking black and gold pom poms and finally, a skinny little 10-year-old kid knowing he would not have wanted to be anywhere else on that day.

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Author’s note: Years later I would learn about a prayer written by then, Archbishop Philip M. Hannan at the first “Saints and Sinners” banquet in 1968. Hannan’s “Prayer for the Saints” is just as relevant today as it was when he wrote it 50 years ago.

“God, we ask your blessing upon all who participate in this event, and all who have supported our Saints. Our Heavenly Father, who has instructed us that the ‘Saints by faith conquered kingdoms…and overcame lions’, grant our Saints an increase in faith and strength so that they will not only overcome the Lions, but also the Bears, the Rams, the Giants, and even those awesome people in Green Bay.

May they continue to tame the Redskins and fetter the Falcons as well as the Eagles. Give to our owners and coaches the continued ability to be wise as serpents and simple as doves, so that no good talent will dodge our draft. Grant to our fans perseverance in their devotion and unlimited lung power, tempered with a sense of charity to all, including the referees.

May our beloved ‘Bedlam Bowl’ be a source of good fellowship and may the ‘Saints Come Marching In’ be a victory for all, now and in eternity.”