The Who Dat? Nation has finally reached the top of the mountain.

They did so as the New Orleans Saints pulled off a dramatic 31-17 upset of the Indianapolis [...]]]> (Before we begin: I wasn’t going to write a recap of this game at first. Then I realized that we’re roughly nine months away from the next meaningful NFL game. That changed my mind.)

The Who Dat? Nation has finally reached the top of the mountain.

They did so as the New Orleans Saints pulled off a dramatic 31-17 upset of the Indianapolis Colts in Super Bowl XLIV on Sunday night in Miami.

Since plenty of other commentators have weighed in on what this means, not just to the Saints but to the city of New Orleans as a whole, I’m going to focus strictly on the game itself. There’s plenty of enough to talk about there, anyways.

The Saints’ turnaround from “Aints” to champions was keyed by two people – head coach Sean Payton and quarterback Drew Brees – and it’s really no surprise those two were the reasons the Saints were victorious Sunday.

(Just a quick, completely uncalled for reminder: Vikings’ fans STILL have no idea what this feels like)

Payton rebounded from his conservative approach in the NFC title game two weeks ago on Sunday with a masterfully aggressive gameplan. It wasn’t always smart and it didn’t always work – the decision to go for it on fourth-and-goal late in the second quarter was baffling, to say the least – but by being aggressive, he showed his team he had confidence in them at every single turn. In sports, that stuff matters.

It certainly mattered on the opening kickoff of the second half.

Payton and Co. shocked the nation by going for an onside kick. After a lengthy pile-up (which had to have been the craziest pile ever), the Saints came away with not only the ball, but the momentum. And when Brees led the offense down for a score – giving the Saints a 13-10 lead – it was official that, no matter what Indianapolis did to counter that, the Colts would be behind the cliched eight-ball the rest of the way.

In the biggest games of your life, you turn it loose. Payton did just that.

Of course, it’s easy to turn it loose when you have a signal-caller like Brees.

As Adam said in giving his prediction, New Orleans’ hopes would rest on Brees’ shoulders. By going 32-of-39 for 288 yards and two touchdowns (no interceptions), Brees showed he was more than up to the task, turning in the closest thing a quarterback can to a perfect game. Playing behind a dominant offensive line (seriously, was he pressured more than a handful of times?), the game’s MVP found every single open patch in Indianapolis’ Cover 2 defense. He spread the ball around to eight different receivers and showed that, if anyone doubts he should be considered the game’s best quarterback, they should doubt no more.

Payton and Brees have become the league’s elite coach-quarterback combo. When you have that, more often that not, you’re going to be the best.

The Saints were Sunday. And it’s absolutely deserved.

Other random thoughts on the Super Bowl

• Peyton Manning had his chance to become the best quarterback ever in this one and he blew it. Sure, he completed over 66 percent of his passes for 333 yards, but it was a very non-discript 333 yards. And with the game hanging the balance, Manning made a terrible throw to Reggie Wayne that Tracy Porter (officially my favorite non-Packer) picked and took to the house for the game-clinching score. Manning is still top 10, but he’s nowhere close to where he could have been (plus, Brees has surpassed him as the best in the game today). Somewhere, Joe Montana is smiling. His status as the best ever is safe.
• I tried to tell you The Who should be stopped. If you doubted me then, you can’t now after watching their abysmal halftime performance. They just can’t get it done anymore. Can we officially declare the 1960s are over, for God’s sake? Can the NFL get a band that actually, you know, appeals to its target demograpic (me, for example)? How about Pearl Jam? Or Kings of Leon, maybe? Why does the halftime show always have to be classic rock radio?
• Sort of a down year for the commercials. That said, I had two favorites (for different reasons). The funniest was the David Letterman/Oprah/Jay Leno promo for Letterman’s show. Hilarious. The best was the Megan Fox ad for…well, I don’t even know what it was for. Megan Fox in a tub? Yikes. Here’s how you know it made an impact. Adam and I were having a conversation. We stopped when the commercial came on. When it was over, I said, “What were we talking about?” He stared blankly at me before responding, “I can’t remember.” That’s the effect Fox has on men. I doubt we were the only guys experiencing this.
• I love, love, love that Boomer Esiason and Dan Marino were the two former quarterbacks-turned analysts for CBS’ halftime show. Two guys who know a little something about Super Bowl-winning quarterbacking right there. They know as much as you and I do about that.
• Esiason had another gem, too, when talking about Brees holding his recently-born son on the field after the game was over. Esiason: “It’s really a great moment between a father and son.” He said it as though every father and son experiences that. Yeah, I remember when my dad and I did that after he won it back in ‘81. We talk about it all the time. And, again, what would YOU know about that anyways, Boomer?
• Next year, the Super Bowl is in Dallas. How ’bout the Pack goes down there and wins it, shoving it right in Jerry Jones’ cosmetically-altered face? How fun would that be? Just saying…

-Chris Lempesis

That was the main thought playing over and over in my mind as I drove alone to a Taco Bell in Appleton, Wisconsin, on the cold, cold evening of January 20, 2008.

Brett Favre, our aging, yet still-beloved quarterback, had once again sunk the Green Bay Packers’ postseason hopes with an interception.

Overtime. Lambeau. Corey Webster. We all [...]]]> How could he have done it again?

That was the main thought playing over and over in my mind as I drove alone to a Taco Bell in Appleton, Wisconsin, on the cold, cold evening of January 20, 2008.

Brett Favre, our aging, yet still-beloved quarterback, had once again sunk the Green Bay Packers’ postseason hopes with an interception.

Overtime. Lambeau. Corey Webster. We all remember.

I was no longer wearing my Favre jersey, a staple of my gameday attire for years. No, that was on the floor in the corner of my sister Nikki’s TV room, tossed there by yours truly in a fit of rage after the game had ended. Backed by a soundtrack of Green Day’s “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” (I’m not making this up. That was actually on the radio in an awful bit of timing by whatever station had decided to play it), I sat behind the wheel in a state of shock.

What was wrong with him?

In the two-plus years since that night, a lot of things have changed in my life, as a football fan or otherwise. A lot of things have changed for Favre, as well. He’s switched zip codes a couple of times, set some new NFL records, earned some new fans and lost most of his old ones.

Apparently, though, one thing will always remain the same: When the stakes are their highest, his fatal flaws will come out and destroy his team’s chances.

After watching Favre sink the Minnesota Vikings’ Super Bowl hopes with yet another foolish, late-game interception – this one coming near the end of regulation in Sunday night’s NFC Championship Game loss to the New Orleans Saints – how can we think otherwise?

Patterns are patterns for a reason, after all, and Favre has shown that he either can’t or won’t change his. And the most recent backbreaking pick is a perfect example of why Favre will never get the storybook ending he so desperately – and pathetically, if you ask me – wants.

First, you must remember the circumstances. A third-and-15 from the Saints’ 38. Under 30 seconds to play. Minnesota needs only five or so yards to get back into kicker Ryan Longwell’s range.

Now, if you go back and look at the replay of the third-and-15, Favre has two clear-cut opportunities to get those yards back. The first comes via his feet. He has a window in front of him – old, beat-up legs or not – to run for at least five yards (likely closer to six or seven if he makes it to the sideline). As the years went on, though, we all remember how much he hated scrambling (even when open real estate was right there in front of him) and how many picks that directly led to as he chose to force a pass instead.

Even if you give him a pass on that, you can not let him slide on this: He had Bernard Berrian open on a short out-route on the sideline roughly nine yards to his right (which just happened to be the direction he was moving in, anyways). He makes that throw and the speedy Berrian likely picks up at least 12 yards. Longwell crushes that kick and Minnesota wins, right?

Favre never even looks at Berrian for a second, though, instead focusing his eyes from snap-to-pick completely on Sidney Rice. This is perhaps the most overlooked of Favre’s numerous flaws: His tendency to focus on one, and only one, receiver in crucial moments. As Gene pointed out to me on the phone Sunday night, that goes back to the days when Sterling Sharpe was the only proven gamebreaker at Favre’s disposal. Then it was Robert Brooks. Then Antonio Freeman. Then Donald Driver. Remember, Greg Jennings was open in OT against the Giants and, last time I checked, he’s pretty good.

But there was Favre locking on Driver from the get-go. Webster – and everyone else on the planet – knew Favre would do that. That allowed Webster to get himself fully prepared to make the play.

Same goes for Tracy Porter on Sunday night.

But here’s the thing: It didn’t matter to Favre if Porter knew that. And it didn’t matter to Favre that trying to pick up 20 when all he needed was five was a foolish venture. And it sure didn’t matter to Favre if he was forcing a ball across his body into the middle of the field. Rice was his go-to-guy, dammit, and he was dancing with the girl that brought him. Arrogance: The most obvious of all his flaws.

Pick. Overtime. Garrett Hartley. Ballgame.

These flaws – he has others, of course, but I don’t have enough time to discuss them all - were prevalent Sunday night in New Orleans. And two years ago in Green Bay. And five years ago in Philadelphia. They aren’t changing.

They are the reason he hasn’t gotten to a third postseason game since the Super Bowl loss in 1998. They are the reason he will never get to a third postseason game again. He can play until he’s 50; it’s not going to happen for him.

And they are also the reason I had a smile on my face as I drove home alone after the game Sunday night in Minneapolis, Minnesota. This time, though, I stopped at Burger King.

Hey, at least one of us can change.

-Chris Lempesis