It's a bird. It's a plane. It's...it's...it's the hopes of every single Saints fan flying over a completely clueless member of their secondary only to crash land in the hands of, yet another, wide open Tampa Bay Buccaneers wide receiver. No, but really, it is...
Well guys, it's been fun, except like not really at all. That's just one of those things you see in jest when you have high expectations for something and it finally happens and doesn't come anywhere close to living up to the hype. New Orleans Saints 2015 season, 2 games in and already over. Nothing but the formality of 14 completely gut wrenching games at this point. You want to say I am a pessimist? That's fair, but don't say that I am not a realist. Nothing is more of a reality check then losing to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers...at home...with their rookie quarterback...in a game that shouldn't even have been as close as it was. The Tampa Bay Bucs aren't a mediocre team. They aren't even a bad team. They are a really, really bad team that just stepped into what used to be an incredibly hard place to play and looked like Super Bowl contenders. I don't think I have ever seen a team come back from a loss this demoralizing.
Let's take emotions out of this. The offense stinks. The special teams stinks. The defense stinks just a little less. That might be the scariest part of this whole thing. In a season where the Saints are 0-2, their defense is, dare I say it, holding their own. Watching the Saints this season is like biting into a pickle expecting it to be a kosher dill and it turns out to be bread and butter. It's like the one consistently good part of the meal has somehow become unbearable. It's surprising, and surprising in the worst possible way. At least last year we stunk with an offense that was worth watching, that's far more entertaining then having to depend on a 'bend but don't break defense' to continue to give a hapless offense countless chances to redeem itself. The most depressing part of all of this is that we've already seen the best of Drew Brees. Unless someone surgically removed his right arm and attached Chad Pennington's at halftime then he is most definitely hurt, and while we don't know the actual extent, I think it's fair to say he won't be playing at 100% for the remainder of the year.
I was actually a big supporter of the Jimmy Graham trade, but I guess that was before I realized that the revamped offensive (in EVERY sense of the word) line was going to be more focused on the postgame meal then protecting their franchise quarterback. That was before I realized that not even a Pro Bowl center could help this line become even a mildly capable run blocking unit. Seriously, I never thought I would see the day when a Sean Payton and Drew Brees led offense would become extremely difficult to watch, but alas, here we are. Here we are depending on a defense that thinks that penalty flags are a badge of honor. Here we are depending on terrible, terrible teams to somehow outsuck us just so the score looks mildly respectable.
I don't recall ever feeling more indifferent to the outcome of a game than Sunday. The Buccaneers kept fumbling away a comfortable win, and the Saints offense kept squandering chance after chance to take advantage of it. It got to the point where I didn't even want the false confidence that an undeserved win would instill in me. If the NFL had any respect for itself at all they would've cut off the live feed to the game, because both teams did everything in their power to tarnish the reputation of the shield. How did we get here? How have I had a more enjoyable time watching every single team other than my own this season? How was I jealous of the FUCKING Jets last night? I should be excited to stick it to a Panthers team that looks less than formidable offensively, but I can't even count on the Saints to get a first down against an NFL quality defense. Hey, I'm still all in until the season is over, but my God is this team going to make it as hard as humanly possible to not fling myself off my balcony come Sunday afternoon. Maybe it's a good thing games start at 10AM on the West Coast. It'll give me a chance to start drinking early enough that I won't have to feel feelings until Monday.