Well, thanks a lot, Jimmy Haslett.

After 12 games and three years of repeat mistakes and disappointment, I’d been sufficiently beaten down into submission.

Your team’s losses, losses that often took place in horrific ways, no longer caused me pain, and I wasn’t the only one that felt like this.

We grew to accept your team’s offerings, like a bad high school lunch menu that never did get much better, even though we ate it every day out of necessity and habit.

After the season’s first half, we knew nothing had changed. Bonehead pre-snap penalties, turnovers at inopportune times and dozens of dropped passes were still the norm. Up and down play was par for the course.

I’ll order a big win against the high scoring St. Louis Rams, with a side of inexplicable losses to two winless teams.

In one case, our heroes made hapless Arizona look like a well-oiled machine. In the other, the Saints knocked out Tampa quarterback Chris Simms, and in doing so single-handedly resurrected the

rotting corpse of Brian Griese, kickstarting a comeback year for him.

At the hint of any deficit, offensive coordinator Mike McCarthy still gave up on the run like a frustrated Playstation Madden player.

And opposing offenses still made Saints defenders appear to have all of the speed and agility of Snuffleuppagus.

I was finally desensitized to the losing. Didn’t like it, but I accepted the way things were.

And then came all that gosh-darned winning.

First, the Saints downed a hot Cowboys team convincingly, basically eliminating them from the playoff hunt in the process.

The next week, the Saints swept in and stole another “elimination” game on the road, in the final minute, from Tampa Bay. When are the Saints ever the team that does this?

I started to dangerously believe again. But here came the real test. Atlanta was coming to town … without Michael Vick.

This was, of course, the type of game that always produces a letdown. Instead, the team showed a killer instinct not seen since the 2000 playoff campaign.

It was puzzling and exhilarating at the same time. Were we watching a good team all of a sudden? Could this have been the year?

The defense was locking down opponents. The offense found an identity as a Steeler-like running team behind Deuce McAllister and let their passing weapons make a few big plays a game to seek out wins.

Finally, Haslett stopped trying to mold his offense after the 2000 Rams, but after the 2000 Saints, who incidentally beat the 2000 Rams.

Simple concept but effective: Put the ball in your best player’s hands, control the clock and rely on your newfound, aggressive defense.

The formula was enough to best John Fox’s Panthers in the season’s final week, in what was a playoff-type game.

Longtime followers of the Saints would be hard pressed to remember a similar scenario where this team came through against a quality opponent. Haslett outmaneuvered Fox, one of the NFL’s top coaches, and in doing so showed his mettle as an NFL strategist.

Look at Aaron Brooks, who made comments in the week preceding the game claiming Jake Delhomme was merely a good quarterback and that he was himself a great one. Instead of putting his foot in his mouth, he outplayed Cajun country’s favorite son and beat him in a must-win game.

A cocky Saints player backing up his words. Blasphemy!

This team had swagger, riding a wave of momentum. And yet a former Saint did them in.

Doug Brien missed a kick for the Jets that ended up allowing St. Louis to claim the last playoff spot.

It still hurts to think about. After the Saints’ win, there was so much joy in my body waiting to escape, once the news would arrive that our team made the big dance.

After Brien’s miss and the subsequent Ram win, that joy was converted to total pain. Like I said, thanks a lot, Jimmy boy. You made late season games actually matter again. Shame on you.

“Wait ’till next year.” The ode of a Saints fan.

Still, maybe Jim Haslett does not have all the answers, but the answers he has now actually look promising.

And if this momentum can carry over, and a few key additions are made, maybe next season we will faintly hear Buddy D’s postgame call-in show in the sky, where the squirrels may finally find a nut next January.

And maybe, just maybe, “wait ’till next year” will have some meaning after all.

Ryan Arena can be reached at [email protected].