Jackson Free Press

Advance apologies for the personal bitterness, which does not seem to be the general sentiment immediately following the New Orleans Saints' 39-14 loss at Chicago in Sunday's NFC Championship Game, a result that sends the Bears to the Super Bowl and New Orleans into sweet retrospectives of the greatest season in franchise history. Emotions subside, bitterness wanes, cynicism yields with time, and proper perspective will arrive, at some point. Deadlines being what they are, though, this feels pretty horrible.

The Ghost of Saints Past—rather than the Ghost of Saints Future—is the ominous, sickle-bearing Grim Reaper, too hideous to contemplate. Long-suffering fans are justified in their pride in and love for this team—certainly more so than Americans at large, who made the underdog Saints the nation's team out of pity or something, who never experienced Coach Rick Venturi, first-round draft picks Mario Bates and Alex Molden, the Billy Joes, saviors Heath Shuler and Ricky Williams, or a wrong-way pass by Aaron Brooks. More than anything, fans have displayed enormous gratitude. Post-game call-in shows and local media since the loss have reflected optimism above all else. These Saints will be remembered with the greatest affection throughout the region for years, maybe decades, possibly even generations. This is good and right.

Precisely because of that success, the feeling of defeat is many degrees worse in the aftermath of the championship loss Sunday than in the wake of any 6-10 campaign. Personally, the impending media roll toward the Super Bowl on Feb. 4 ensures it will be at least three weeks before I can begin to discern the encouraging forest again from this single, huge, emotionally bludgeoning tree.

The Ghost of Saints Present reminds us this team was not "just happy to be here." It had its praise, its unprecedented glory as part of the journey, but there was no fate or fatigue pulling on the reins of shattered expectations. Losers are just happy to be here, and the whole point of these Saints was that, finally, they were anything but losers; to shrug off Sunday's loss is to deny this team's legitimacy as a championship contender, revert expectations to the measly goals of August and relegate the team to the status of those "Same Old Saints" who really don't have any business playing in January at all, let alone one game away from the Super Bowl. These Saints earned better.

Still, those already visited by the Ghost of Saints Future are optimistically dazzled by the return prospects of a young squad—the core of this team, save 30-year-old guard Jamar Nesbit and 33-year-old defensive tackle Hollis Thomas, is in their 20s—and a rising star of a coach responsible for instilling a revamped, more professional attitude. The general consistency of the 2006 campaign, followed by its deep postseason run, makes New Orleans a virtual lock for favored status come prediction time next fall.

Which will ultimately mean nothing then and even less in the short term, during which the "Who Dat Nation" will be forced to endure the pain of the coming weeks. There will be no relief from the painful buildup of various Super Bowl narratives, ones that could have accompanied the umpteenth run of Katrina devastation montages in New Orleans and Deuce McAllister profiles rather than the umpteenth introspective on Peyton Manning's "legacy" in big games and the inevitable, boring triumph of the league's black coaches.

There will be no escaping shots of Bears sacking Drew Brees, swatting passes away from Saints receivers, cutting against the grain for meaningless late touchdowns, abusing cornerback Fred Thomas, in short, dominating the affair—yes dominating, as demonstrated by that taunting final score, despite Chicago being outgained 375-340, allowing the longest play in NFC Championship history. Accept the "dominance" of the Bear defense now—rather than making easier reference to turnovers and field position—or face madness.

Before Saints fans turn on ESPN or any sports network, they must ask themselves first if they are prepared for the excruciating breakdown of every agonizing snap, talking heads poring over every minute detail that proves beyond the shadow of a reasonable doubt the Bears' eternal superiority, while Chris Berman barks irrelevant nonsense over irrelevant footage of Chicago's lone Super Bowl win—in the Superdome, no less—21 years ago. Every uplifting feeling that accompanied watching Brees dial up third-string tight ends or Deuce power and shimmy his way into the end zone against Philadelphia over and over and over again throughout last week will be multiplied by the agony of the game destined to become the most replayed New Orleans loss in history as a necessary footnote to the really big show. Is it possible to avoid all hype for the Super Bowl?

Apologies, again, for sentiment overwhelmed by the moment. As long as the Saints waited for a chance like Sunday, though, it seems wrong to let the moment pass without a little fight.