Instead of being able to bask in the glory of the Bears finally returning to the NFC Championship game after too long of an absence, the entire country has turned its love fest and stroke-a-thon towards the New Orleans Saints.  Hey, as a human interest story, it’s a nice byline that the Saints are one game from the Super Bowl, but let’s not let reality get in the way of sentiment. 

For one, the city of New Orleans had a lot of trouble supporting this team prior to the hurricane (in terms of local businesses buying suites and whatnot).  While Saints fans have always been rabid about their team, the reality is it’s one of the league’s smallest markets and is owned by a guy who was almost ready to move the team to San Antonio.  When the hurricane hit, there was no way the league would allow him to do so, so he sits and stews in a city that hates him and vice versa.

Next, let’s talk about the utter idiocy of a local government that spent tens of millions to rebuild this damn dome when it had so many other pressing needs.  Your city lost more than half its population, companies are moving out by the dozens, crime is back in a big way, and most homes are abandoned or have been plowed under.  So what should they focus on?  Let’s get pro football back in town!!!  Yay!!! Way to put a band-aid over a gaping flesh wound.  I know, I know, proponents of this plan say you have to bring this kind of “business” back to a town that desperately needs it and other smaller businesses are then propped up by the fact that crowds are spending money in their establishments.  But the fact of the matter is this is an 8-times-a-year occurrence (not counting preseason or playoffs), unlike an NBA or NHL franchise which brings in 41 crowds a year, or a baseball team which attracts 81 crowds per season.  Were I a displaced New Orleans resident, a football team’s fortunes would be the last damn thing on my mind.  Sure, go ahead and chant “Who Dat?” while your football team is winning, but when the game is over remember that you’re still asking “Where’s my fucking house?”

I sort of expanded on this subject to some Bears fans friends of mine in an email yesterday, but outside of the metro Chicago area and us transplanted Chicagoans, that no one else is going to be rooting for the Bears this weekend.  To that, I say Fuck The Saints.  To hell with sentiment, it’s not like many (if any) of the Saints players are native to New Orleans or even live there in the off-season.  While I really detest the showboating that NFL players do, I have a cruel need to want any Bears player, after scoring a touchdown against the Saints, to make a rowboat motion with their arms.  Or pretend to be waving down a helicopter while on an imaginary roof.  The intent isn’t to taunt the misery of the gulf coast area; it’s to bring back attention to the shitty situation that still exists there.  Or maybe, if they really want to taunt a city that somehow re-elected an assclown of a mayor, maybe have a player slap on a “Chocolate Town” Velcro name tag on the back of whoever’s jersey who scores a touchdown (ala Chad Johnson of the Bengals with his “Ocho Cinco” name tag).

Go Bears.