The chant miraculously seemed to turn the tide a for 29 minutes anyway.
It was halftime, and things looked grim. The hapless Saints trailed 17-0. Clouds gathered outside the Parkview Tavern on Carrollton Avenue a clouds of cigarette smoke generated by nervous Who Dats. The temperature was in the forlorn 40s, hopelessly cold for New Orleans football fans. All seemed lost.
But a group of diehards, led by a shirtless Mid-City maniac, gathered at an outdoor piano and summoned up a song meant to turn the tide. To the tune of „The Wall,“ they sang: „Hey Vikings, leave our Saints alone! All in all, we just need Drew Brees with the ball. We don’t need no interceptions. We just need some ball control. No missed assignments in the backfield. Hey, Vikings, leave our Saints alone.“
The chant miraculously seemed to turn the tide a for 29 minutes anyway.
As everyone knows, Sunday’s game ended with a purple-hued touchdown. Yet, the spirit of the shirtless chant-leader cannot be dismissed by defeat. Here’s to you, Carrollton Avenue crazies. Here’s to you!
Note: The Saints singers were some of the same dudes who conduct the New Orleans Jazz Fest Triathlon, a quirky, quasi-athletic, completely unofficial, and semi-secret event that has taken place annually for 18-years.
Doug MacCash has the best job in the world, covering art, music and culture in New Orleans. Contact him via email at dmaccash@nola.com. Follow him on Twitter at Doug MacCash and on Facebook at Douglas James MacCash. As always, please add your point of view to the comment stream.
