The New Orleans Times-Picayune ran a series this past week commemorating the 2006 reopening of the Superdome for the New Orleans Saints’ home opener a little over a year after Hurricane Katrina, and a lot of people are remembering the spectacle of U2 and Green Day arena-rocking the Dome as the kickoff for the Monday Night Football telecast. For me, though, the musicians who made that night special were Allen Toussaint and Irma Thomas.
I was in the Dome that night, September 25, 2006. The Saints had played two games on the road already and were returning for their home opener against their perennial rivals, the Atlanta Falcons. My then-partner and I were brand new season ticket holders, two of the many fans who had dug into our measly funds to support the team as it came back to our devastated, waterlogged, half-dark city.
To me, the U2-Green Day performance was, well, surreal. The stage rolled out and a horde of Tulane students were carted in to thrash around; once the performance ended, both rolled away as quickly as they had come in. God bless ’em for doing this, I remember thinking, but this sure is TV.
It got real, though, when the announcer brought the Saints onto the field. Saints fans had been itching to make noise for our team for over a year. We had watched the the Saints’ first “home” game of 2005 played in New Jersey because New Orleans was underwater. We had trekked to Baton Rouge or San Antonio, sat on the bleachers at Tiger Stadium to cheer an underachieving squad whose hearts weren’t in it. Ours weren’t either, to be honest, if we didn’t know the team was ever going to come back, since Tom Benson (the Saints’ owner) was making noise about relocating to Texas. And Baton Rouge hadn’t exactly been glad to see us. When the Saints came out of the chute onto the field that Monday night, they came out as a team — no individual entrances — and we screamed for them in full throat, because, yes, they were ours and we were theirs, and we loved them.
But when it was real real? That was when Allen Toussaint, pianist and composer, the man behind so many classic acts and songs of New Orleans R&B, came onto the field with Irma Thomas, the Soul Queen of New Orleans, to perform the National Anthem. The Monday Night Football audience may not have recognized them, but nobody in the Dome was confused about who they were. They were New Orleanians. The flood had displaced them, as it had done to so many who were there that night. Like everyone there, they knew what had happened in this place, in the very stadium, while people trapped by the water prayed for help. And Irma Thomas sang. Unembellished, straight ahead, and sincere. And we sang with her, in full voice.
So, yeah, we cried. I’ll tell you when we lost our damn minds, though. The Saints’ defense forced the Falcons into a three-and-out on their first offensive series. Atlanta was punting from deep in their own territory, and the fans were buzzing because we knew we’d get good field position out of this.
Falcons snapped to the punter, Koenen. A rocket in a white jersey burst through the line of scrimmage and leaped. Steve Gleason’s hands came down on the ball just as it left Koenen’s foot. Block! The ball caromed to the turf. Somebody in another white jersey — Curtis Deloatch — scooped up the ball and fell into the end zone. Touchdown, Saints. (In the video below, it gets real good right around :50.)
A roar like you’ve never heard. Jumping. Screaming. Crying. Hugging. For how long did we scream? Ten minutes? I have no idea. I know the final score of that game (Saints 23, Falcons 3), but I couldn’t tell you what happened after that. When Gleason’s hands came down on the football, it was as if he tore a new hole in the roof of the Dome. The top came off. All the misery, the anger, the frustration, sadness, and anguish of the past year, was coming out from our voices and going straight into the sky. The only thing left was elation. For a few hours in the Dome, we were there, it was real, and we had a reason to be joyful.
Yesterday, on the fifth anniversary of that game, Steve Gleason, who retired in 2008, served as an honorary Saints captain. Gleason still lives in New Orleans and has spent the past few years promoting environmental causes and pursuing an MBA. He led the Dome in the “Who Dat” chant that follows the coin toss, and then walked off the field — with the assistance of two of his former teammates. In yesterday’s Times-Picayune, Gleason, who is 34, revealed that he has been diagnosed with ALS, better known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease.
For the Halloween weekend game in 2006, a fellow season ticket holder a few rows in front of us came to the Dome dressed as V from V for Vendetta. V, of course, dresses as Guy Fawkes. Our own V wore a black and gold cape on which he had lettered, “Remember, remember, the 25th of September.” As if — thanks to Toussaint and Thomas, thanks to our team, and thanks especially to Gleason — we could ever forget.
I had originally intended to post this yesterday, but wanted the post to reflect yesterday’s events as well, so it’s a little bit late.
Pics via Nola.com and rosebudus.com
