While most people in New Orleans will remember watching the Saints’ historic first Super Bowl game from a bar on Bourbon Street, parties at friends’ houses or from the Sun Life stadium in Miami, I will always remember watching the game from the best seat in the house.
The Big House, that is.
I watched the game on my bunk in Orleans Parish Prison. Of course, this deserves a brief explanation. To make a long story short, I missed a court date. To make matters worse, I also failed to complete a single hour, out of 61, of service.
So, the judge threw the book at me. And to think, when I called before I showed up, his secretary told me that he was in a good mood, singing “who dat” songs and dancing because he had tickets to the game.
Instead, he said, “You’re going to jail! You’re going to miss the Super Bowl!”
Well, he was wrong. I saw the game in the company of thieves, drug addicts and thugs. And it was great.
The house of detention trembled as Pierre Thomas lunged for a touchdown for the Saints during the third quarter of the Super Bowl. Prisoners throughout the building banged on bars, bunks and walls, shaking the entire building. That shaking was impressive, but not nearly as impressive as when Lance Moore made the lunging two-point conversion in the fourth. I thought that an earthquake might sink New Orleans into marshy quicksand.
The fact that men could cause a concrete building to shake is astounding. Even more impressive is the fact that men’s spirits can be broken by the filth and oppression of prison life and then lifted by a sports team playing over a thousand miles away. It’s a testament to the strength of the immovable, unwavering, indelible human spirit.
When the Saints got possession of the ball in the last minute of the fourth, with the Colts so close to the goal line, the entire prison began to chant “who dat” – a deafening roar that reverberated throughout the building.
I could even hear the chanting coming from the temporary prison tents across the yard. The stagnant air in the prison was charged with electricity. Some inmates danced. Others were in a state of shock. Some men hugged. Watching grown men in orange jumpsuits hug would move almost anyone. It was beautiful. I know I teared up.
It was as if for those euphoric moments, we were all free men.
Then the TV showed a live shot of Bourbon Street and everyone immediately remembered where they were.
Jean-Paul Arguello can be reached at [email protected]
