Editorial Note: A piece that I started back in February after the Saints won the Super Bowl. I found it on my old blog, polished it up, and now here it is for your viewing pleasure.
If you have never read my blog before, let me save you a few moments and tell you… wait a tick, I want you to go read my blog. Tell you what – go read some more of my blog, then come back and read this post. I’ll wait for you.
Okay, now that you’ve read my blog, you already know that I’m a pretty avid sports fan. If I don’t get in my 4-5 hours of ESPN per day, then I start to get a bit twitchy and break out in a rash. I even watched the England vs. Wales rubgy match on Saturday morning this past week… but, I digress.
As an avid sports fan, I have come to a belief that you choose a team to follow and you are married to them for life. There is no divorce in sports. Sure you can flirt with a hot team or two, but you always come home to your (team) mate. As in everything in life, there are exceptions. If your team moves cities, then you no longer have to maintain that relationship unless you so choose. For example, Los Angeles Raiders fans are not required to like the Oakland Raiders unless they choose to do so (and if they chose to do that, then they have bigger problems than which football team to watch).
It never fails that for every major sporting event with a new upcoming team in it, we see a rash of bandwagon jumpers who come along for the ride. This year’s Super Bowl is no exception. The New Orleans Saints are the new darlings of the unaffiliated football fan. The amount of fans flooding to cheer on the Saints is ridiculous. New Orleans hasn’t seen a flood like this since Katrina — too soon, huh? The thing that bothers me about all this team flip-flopping is that these wagon people do not deserve the joy that a Saints’ victory brings. Where were they when the Saints played a season of road games? Probably rooting for the Cardinals, Patriots, Steelers, or any other team-du-jour. The wagon people never have to endure the lows that true fans go through because as soon as that team starts to lose they drop them faster than Tiger Woods drops his pants.
But, nothing drives me crazier than when one of these pseudo-fans tries to convince you that they have been a fan of that team for a long time. But, ask them to name a starter for that team from five years ago and their mind is suddenly a black hole. Argh!
I will admit that soon after the Super Bowl, the Saints pandemonium seemed to cool-off rather quickly. The chants of “Who Dat?” faded into whispers and finally were silenced. I think we’ll have to wait until the 2010 season rolls around to see how many wagon people made the jump to New Orleans, so I’ll reserve the right to bitch about this some more come September. We remain in recess on this subject until then… court adjourned.
P.S. Not that it is important this the point of this article, but for accountability sake I am married to the Arkansas Razorbacks, Dallas Cowboys, St. Louis Cardinals, Orlando Magic, Philadelphia Flyers, Tiger Woods, and Jeff Gordon. If you see me cheering for any other team, we are just friends. My teams need not worry. Although, I might be courting a rugby team soon.