A Dramtic Comeback: The Super Bowl Returns To New Orleans

Original Article Published on May 22, 2009 

It's a sunny Tuesday morning in New Orleans. A street musician taps out "Down by the Riverside" on his trumpet in Jackson Square. An appreciative tourist drops a dollar in a bucket.

The musician says in a marked Southern accent, "Thank you, ma'am. Much obliged, I am. Much obliged, indeed."

Less than 24 hours earlier, the NFL announced that the Super Bowl is returning to New Orleans in 2013.

Now the city is in full party mode, not that it takes much of an excuse for a party to break out in the Big Easy.

Later in the day, Saints' owner Tom Benson tells a cheering crowd in Lafayette Square, "We plan on playing in a couple of Super Bowls before 2013!"

This is a not so subtle hint to GM Mickey Loomis and head coach Sean Payton standing off in the wings.

Then, team Vice President Rita Benson LeBlanc, who will take over the ownership duties when grandpa steps down, introduces Payton, and the former Eastern Illinois QB exclaims, "We're planning on playing in a couple of Super Bowls before we host the one in 2013!"

The jubilant crowd, feeling no pain at this point after a few cocktails, loves it.

And why not? Who would have ever dreamed this moment possible just four years earlier when the mother of all disasters, Katrina, cold-cocked the city, leaving the future of NFL football in New Orleans in serious doubt.

Senators and congressmen were questioning whether or not the city should be rebuilt after Katrina, much less serve as home to an NFL franchise.

More important things than football! Lives to rebuild! Cranes to dot the skylines! Politicians to be hold accountable, Mr. Speaker!

And that damned FEMA! What does FEMA stand for anyway?

Benson was vilified by the local media for entering into discussions with San Antonio officials about possible relocation.

"What do you want me to do? The whole damned city is in the Gulf of Mexico. I'm a businessman! Need to make a profit, ya know? Ya know."

Benson terminated the team VP for suggesting that the team should absolutely return to New Orleans. The team VP ran for Councilman-at-Large and won.

"This is my franchise! Don't tell me where to put it," yelled the old curmudgeon. "Ya' fired."

Alas, "When the Saints Go Marching In" just never sounded quite right at the Alamo Dome, and the team came "Walkin' back to N'awlins" to borrow a line from Fats.

The city is a natural at hosting world-class parties like the Super Bowl, replete with five-star French Quarter restaurants—Galatoire's, Antoine's, Stella, Bourbon House, and Bacco. It's compact. Charming. Romantic hotels within walking distance of everything.

"Food so damned good makes you wanna smack your mama," as some of the locals are fond of saying.

The music flows out of those smokey jazz clubs until sunrise, and those French Quarter psychics read your palm and tell you your future.

Everything is a discovery. A surprise around every corner. "The ghosts streak toward the light in New Orleans," said Bob Dylan. And, actually, the ghosts are very polite in New Orleans. Only a few are known for making smart remarks.

A lot of Super Bowl history is present. Like Hank Stram and the Kansas City Chiefs dominating the Vikings in 1970, the Pittsburgh Steelers winning the first of four championships under Chuck Noll, Bradshaw, Franco, and Mean Joe, and Pete Rozelle handing Al Davis the Lombardi Trophy in '81. Poor bastard.

Montana, Favre, and Brady.

And now the Super Bowl is back, and one of the world's great cities is back.

In the words of one of football's all-time great philosophers, "Dandy" Don Meredith, "Who would have thunk it?"

Much obliged, ma'am. Much obliged, indeed.