What do these four things have in common? At some level or another I can't stand them because they've all tested my ability to be a Saints fan. I always stay true to my team, but at this exact moment in time I'm wondering what the curse is.
Bum Phillips: I remember sitting in my future ex-father-in-law's living room on occasional Sunday afternoons in 1980 listening to him make fun of me for being a Saints fan. I can still hear his crusty old ha-ha-ha-ha-ha thirty years later. I should've known then what doom awaited me, (maritally speaking). But then again, in 1983 the Saints almost made the playoffs, and after that the team was pretty good, all things considered. So Bum Phillips only gets 1 Roger Goodell (out of possible 5) on my All-Time Saints Hate List.
Mike Ditka: It only took six or seven years to recover from Reckless Mike's time at the helm, can you say "draft picks?" I'll never forget him whining and moaning like the big baby he is that the Saints could never win because New Orleans wasn't (to paraphrase) a winning city. Now Mike does horrible beer commercials and Will Ferrell movies while the Saints just keep chugging along being the thing I love most from Labor Day until Ground Hog Day. Mike Ditka gets 3.5 Roger Goodell's on my All-Time Saints Hate List.
Buddy Ryan: January 3, 1993. Me, a few beers, a cheeseburger, the horrible, annoying, Philadelphia Eagles and the New Orleans Saints in a playoff game! I had finally reached that place in NFL fandom where I could walk the mean streets of the Philadelphia / New York metropolitan area with my held high. Until the 4th quarter when it all went up in smoke as Randall Cunningham, Fred Barnett and Eric Allen destroyed what had otherwise been a pretty good day. I will never forget Buddy Ryan's happy face on the sidelines as time ran out. Never has a sporting event made me so angry. I will forever despise Ryan for being so freakin' happy, and every time I drive by The Linc on southbound I-95 in Philadelphia I salute the Eagles in grand New Jersey style. As a matter of full disclosure, I also despise Rex Ryan and his feet, and I think Rob Ryan should get a haircut. Buddy Ryan gets 3 Roger Goodell's on my All-Time Saints Hate List.
Roger Goodell: He makes Voldemort and Lord Sauron look like Regis and Kelly. I'm writing this within thirty minutes of reading the news that Sean Payton has been suspended for a year, so excuse me for a second.
Thanks. Sorry about that.
I honestly don't know where we're going or how we're going to get there, but I'm ready for the ride. I'm not real happy with Payton, or Vilma, or Loomis, or anyone else, and I'm especially not happy with Gregg Williams (5 out of 5 Roger Goodell's - A-TSHL), but who the hell am I? I'm just a guy who spends hundreds of dollars a year on television packages to watch my team, and thousands a year to go see them play. I'm just a person who has to relive the worst days of being a Saints fan all over again. Screw Commisioner Voldemort and his example-making. I should boycott the NFL forever but I won't. I'll still be sitting in my spot on the couch on Sundays even though something deep inside tells me I should send Goodell the bill for all my trouble.
Payton and Loomis surely share the blame they have taken responsibility for, but my take on the whole Bountygate punishment is that it's obvious to me
Roger Goodell Lord Commisioner Voldemort doesn't hold the Saints fanbase in the same regard as he does the big market teams. I find it hard to imagine Belichick, Coughlin, Ryan, Smith, Reid or Harbaugh (either one) receiving a one year suspension for the same crimes. Okay, well, maybe Ryan might.
So, Roger Goodell, I'm not a fan of yours. I will laugh and jeer at your pompous self next month at the draft and I will forever despise the way you do business. Making an example of people is something 2nd grade teachers at Our Lady of St. Narcissist the Leader does.
Out of a possible 5 Roger Goodell's on my All-Time Saints Hater List I am awarding you 5. I wish I could award you more, like 50,000, but I can't. Five is the limit, but that in no way reflects how much I wish you would go work for Major League Baseball or something.
Excuse me while I go have a few drinks and watch Road to the Super Bowl XLIV while I yell at the happy little neighbor children to shut the hell up.