DISPATCH FROM . . .
A Resurrected Crescent City
Sunday, January 21, 2007; Page C03
About 3 o'clock this afternoon, should you need a team to cheer for in the NFC championship game, feel free to join Richard Page in pulling for his beloved New Orleans Saints.
The telephone rang in my Clinton home about 1 a.m. last Sunday, just as my husband and I were settling down from our hometown team's big win in the NFL playoffs.
  Like his beloved Saints, Richard M. Page, 71, a season-ticket holder since the Superdome opened in 1975, has rebuilt in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. (Family Photo) |
"That's either your dad or your brother," I said, as Kevin reached for the phone.
The voice on the other end was chanting, loudly: "Who dat? Who dat? Who dat talkin' 'bout beatin' dem Saints?"
It was my father-in-law, Richard M. Page, 71, the most devoted Saints fan I know.
I've seen his kind of devotion around Washington to a certain other NFL team. But Hurricane Katrina, all of the suffering and the many bonds formed when this area opened its arms to the storm victims left a soft spot for the New Orleans Saints in the hearts of many football fans everywhere, even here.
People seem to get it. And they appreciate what this time means to longtime Saints fans, such as my father-in-law, who started attending Saints games in the late 1960s when the team was a new franchise playing in Tulane University stadium. He and his wife, Miriam, bought season tickets when the Superdome opened in 1975, and they'd taxi around town for home games to pick up four other couples.
Over time, though, several of their friends lost interest, got sick or died. Even Miriam passed on her cherished season ticket to her youngest son, Kolin, 43, when the tiresome trip to her seat seemed hardly worth the frustration of watching her boys lose week after week.
But Richard kept on trekking.
The most games he ever missed were last season, after Hurricane Katrina, when the team played that miserable season away from home. The storm dumped up to six feet of water in the Pages' eastern New Orleans neighborhood, wiped out the main level of their two-story home, took their daughter's house and scattered the rest of our family and friends. My in-laws' misery only worsened with rumors that the Saints might move away for good.
But last August, Richard moved back home and rebuilt. When the Saints rolled back into town, he cranked up the caravan once more.
In those moments, sitting in his old dome seats, wearing his old No. 94 jersey (for one of his favorites, defensive lineman Charles Grant), chanting "Go get him, Charlie," at least something about his life in New Orleans felt familiar. This time, though, his boys kept winning. Now, the Saints are marching into their first NFC championship game.
I couldn't have imagined in the darkest days after Katrina that I'd ever again hear the elation so evident in my father-in-law's voice during that 1 a.m. telephone call last week. So, I'll make him proud on game day and wear the new Reggie Bush jersey I got for Christmas.
But for me, the biggest Saints victory has nothing to do with a final score.
-- Lisa Frazier Page, staff writer
