Growing up an Atlanta Falcons fans, I used to hate the Saints. They were divisional rivals to my team. On top of that, the red-headed twin brothers I knew in high school were Saints fans, two of the most obnoxious, idiotic individuals I’ve ever met.

But looking back on the rivalry over the years, going to games and seeing the cheerful Saints section complete with brass instruments, banners, painted faces and an almost-constant enthusiasm, it became pretty hard to dismiss their loyalty. And I hate to admit it, but “Who Dat” is much cooler than the Dirty Bird.

As I got older, New Orleans became one of my favorite cities to visit. One of the best times I ever had was a week in New Orleans shortly before Katrina. For those who only know Bourbon Street, believe me, you haven’t really seen New Orleans. After a week of great food, great music, incredible sightseeing and great people, my fiancee and I were about ready to move there. Sadly, Katrina hit about a month later.

I’ve been back to New Orleans a few times since. While the city isn’t quite the same, it is well on its way. The French Quarter was largely untouched, a factoid the news media often fails to mention when showing the constant shots of devastation. Not to sound callous, but tourists were never hanging out around 9th Ward in the first place.

It’s good to see the Saints win a Super Bowl. Sure, it doesn’t erase what happened, but it is another in a long line of steps towards the recovery of one of the greatest and most unique American cities. A salute to the Saints for a great season, great fans and one hell of a ballsy Super Bowl win (did you see that onside kick? Awesome). I wish I was in the French Quarter to celebrate the long overdue death of “The Ain’ts.” I’ll be having some Abita and oyster shots in their honor.

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