And it was at that point, as DeSean Jackson completed his all-too-casual jog into the end zone, that I knew I had seen that same movie oh-so-many times before. The clock read 9:41 of the 1st quarter and the score was an extra point away from being tied at just seven, but the damage had already been done to the psyche of those that know all well what it looks like when the same ole' Saints are in for a looong afternoon. That might seem a bit dramatic, but all it took was one bunch formation leading to an opposing receiver running his route against air, and air only, for the Who Dat Nation to let out a collective "here we go again..." in response to yet another inexcusably unprepared start to a season. Hours of complete defensive incompetence later, when the journeyman extraordinaire, who was made to look like a homeless man's Aaron Rodgers, broke the pocket for the umpteenth time only to slide across the Super Dome turf and into the win column following a 12 yard scramble on 3rd-and-11, it felt only as shocking as it did both fitting and familiar. Drew Brees having his Hall Of Fame credentials borderline abused by having to drag a lifeless corpse of a roster to a relatively respectable result that was effectively anything but must be the stuff that his recurring nightmares are made of at this point.From a fan's perspective, I can tell you it's a game script that feels equally as gory and only as different as each subsequent iteration of The Purge. Ten minutes in and you can already be pretty certain of what you're going to get, so the rolling of the credits feels more like an overdue end to the misery than anything else. As bad of an omen as it was for the Saints to get brought on their own stage and toyed around with by FitzMagic, which is typically the type of wizardry you expect to see at a mall kiosk, it was still just one game. That being said, it was one game that gave plenty of reason to question everything that Sean Payton has preached all offseason, for they looked to be fat off all the cheese in proving all the experts wrong. It was one game that gave plenty of reason to question whether the trend of one-off quality defensive deviations from the norm of ineptitude will continue to buoy his tenure. It was one game, on a 16-game schedule of increasing toughness, that appeared more winnable than most. It was one game in which a roster that has been hailed as his most talented looked utterly complacent in carrying the Minneapolis Miracle right over into the New Orleans Nightmare. Now, the bulk of that roster has proven capable of putting an ungodly ass-whooping or two in their rearview last year. Still, it would be ignorant to act as if the start to the brightest of seasons wasn't quickly clouded with depressing shades of the 7-9 record that followed a promising 2013 all the way through to the beginning of 2017. That's simply unconscionable considering the amount of top-end carryover that resides in a locker room that doesn't even have inter-team turmoil to point to an excuse for starting off short of expectations. Another performance like that against Cleveland next week and I'm going to be forced into thinking that culture of camaraderie is really just built on a bunch of dudes fluffing each other's egos, if only because there's no other alternative answer to what we saw yesterday. Marshon Lattimore, who might be sharing a block of ice with Ken Crawley in defensive backs meetings after the two of them got wooden spooned by Mike Evans and DeSean Jackson all afternoon, said the Saints needed a good slap back to reality...
For the life of me, I can't possibly figure out why that is, as the last game they played prior to yesterday ended with one of the most unforgettable kicks in the groin in NFL history. Maybe the Saints should have been tuned into the same broadcast their fans were subjected to, because damn near each and every commercial break provided a turn of the knife in an otherwise brutal stabbing. Stefon Diggs must have ran straight across the screen and into the NFC Championship game no less than two dozen times yesterday and somehow the Tampa Bay Buccaneers still matched his yardage. I'd hope that would serve as a pretty big wakeup call to a young team that has about as much reason to be cocky as it's coach does to be stubborn. To the Buccaneers credit, Ryan Fitzpatrick was awesome and their formidable group of receivers made a ton of plays, as it appears they didn't take kindly to being forgotten by a league that prematurely stomped them as a doormat. That, however, doesn't excuse the effort of those that allowed them to do so, as the Saints' defense was so putrid that they don't even deserve the benefit of doubting questionable officiating. If not for the heroics of Drew Brees, Alvin Kamara, and - for a vast majority of the game - Michael Thomas, we're talking about a pounding of epic proportions. It's obviously too early to signal that the sky is falling, but the Week 1 struggles have become nothing short of pathetic while giving very little hope for Week 2. Simply put, there's a lot to clean up if they want to avoid sending Hue Jackson home to a hero's welcome, never mind making the playoffs of which they apparently thought they had already clinched a spot.
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