I feel so sorry about this Beth but I feel I should let you know. You see there is absolutely no way that the New Orleans Saints can win the Super Bowl. Or ever win the Super Bowl. Right now you are flying high, undefeated and have just opened a big can of whoop-ass on the Patriots, but it is all an illusion. You see there is one overwhelming reason why the Saints can never win. And you know what it is!
It is the “Curse of Danny Abramowicz.”
Sure you remember Danny as a fine All Pro receivers in the late sixties and early seventies until he was unceremiously traded to the 49er’s in the middle of the season in 1973. Now you might not remember why he was traded because you are too young, but I remember it well.
You see Danny has always been a devote Catholic. But living in New Orleans for so long he wandered into a small decrepit Catholic church deep in the Bayou. The priest there was a strange and charismatic man named Father Limba Laveau who led his congregation in a strange amalgam of Voodoo and Catholicism. Danny became a member of the congregation and supported it piously with funds and personal appearances and missionary work that led to the growth of this tiny parish into a significant force in New Orleans in the 1970’s. Danny used several voodoo spells on Tom Fears that led him to be the focus of the Saints offense even though he was slower than a woman working at the New Orleans DMV on an August day when there was no air conditioning. When John Mecom Jr. caught Danny stealing some hairs from his comb and burning them with his Zippo he immediately shipped him to the coast. Ten chickens were killed that night and a curse was put on the New Orleans Saints that lingers to this very day. Never will the Saints be in the Super Bowl. Never will they have the sweet joy of holding the Vince Lombardi trophy in the air. Never will they look into the camera and say “I’m going to Disneyland.” Because you see, the only place they are destined is in fact the only place hotter and more uncomfortable than NOLA.
It is the “Curse of Danny Abramowicz.”
Sure you remember Danny as a fine All Pro receivers in the late sixties and early seventies until he was unceremiously traded to the 49er’s in the middle of the season in 1973. Now you might not remember why he was traded because you are too young, but I remember it well.
You see Danny has always been a devote Catholic. But living in New Orleans for so long he wandered into a small decrepit Catholic church deep in the Bayou. The priest there was a strange and charismatic man named Father Limba Laveau who led his congregation in a strange amalgam of Voodoo and Catholicism. Danny became a member of the congregation and supported it piously with funds and personal appearances and missionary work that led to the growth of this tiny parish into a significant force in New Orleans in the 1970’s. Danny used several voodoo spells on Tom Fears that led him to be the focus of the Saints offense even though he was slower than a woman working at the New Orleans DMV on an August day when there was no air conditioning. When John Mecom Jr. caught Danny stealing some hairs from his comb and burning them with his Zippo he immediately shipped him to the coast. Ten chickens were killed that night and a curse was put on the New Orleans Saints that lingers to this very day. Never will the Saints be in the Super Bowl. Never will they have the sweet joy of holding the Vince Lombardi trophy in the air. Never will they look into the camera and say “I’m going to Disneyland.” Because you see, the only place they are destined is in fact the only place hotter and more uncomfortable than NOLA.
Hell.
Now that Saints are not just a hapless franchise doomed to never winning a championship like the Los Angles Clippers or the Houston Astro’s. They are in fact the victim of this enduring curse that even Danny himself can not stop. His brief tenure as a coach and offensive coordinator did nothing to ameliorate the effect of this voodoo rite that will forever follow your poor benighted team. Now you might have some more success, maybe even go undefeated in the regular season and win a playoff game or two. But in the end, your team will fall short. Because they are truly not Saints, but only unredeemable sinners. Fated to always fall short.
Because they can never reverse the curse. The curse of Danny Abramowicz.
Now that Saints are not just a hapless franchise doomed to never winning a championship like the Los Angles Clippers or the Houston Astro’s. They are in fact the victim of this enduring curse that even Danny himself can not stop. His brief tenure as a coach and offensive coordinator did nothing to ameliorate the effect of this voodoo rite that will forever follow your poor benighted team. Now you might have some more success, maybe even go undefeated in the regular season and win a playoff game or two. But in the end, your team will fall short. Because they are truly not Saints, but only unredeemable sinners. Fated to always fall short.
Because they can never reverse the curse. The curse of Danny Abramowicz.
21 comments:
You spin a fine tale. But I was present at the voodoo ceremony on the field of the Superdome where the curse was lifted, and the orishas appeased.
Besides, the Abramowitz-era Saints played uptown, at the Tulane field, which is most assuredly cursed. You have that part right.
And did I mention that the power of Breesus outweighs any voodoo curse?
Ha! I guess the Archdiocese has heard your story, too!
Six priests and three archbishops officiated a pre-game Mass at the Dome yesterday, and stayed for the game, of course.
Trooper, this is a strange story but I know you did not make it up!
It's all just a sideshow for the main event, which is the Vikings winning the Lombardi Trophy.
Yeah, I'm a little worried about that, Michael. The "saints" didn't do to well against the Vikings back in the 7th century, did they?
But those were my ancestors ripping up the abbeys and running back to the long boats. Maybe I'll bring a little of their spirit to the mix down here.
A cajun was sent to Hell after murdering his wife. The horned one asked the new recruit, "Hot enough here for you?"
"It is a bit cold for me cher" the cajun replied.
So Satan turned up the heat. "How about now Frenchy?" "You got a sweater or a LSU jacket I can wear?" was the Acadian's reply.
Angrier still, the Devil almost burst the boilers as his minions stoked the furnaces of Hades. Even Beelzebub was sweating as the South Louisianian took off his sweater saying "Still a bit cool, but this will do ya."
The fallen angel got an idea and switched on the arctic winds, freezing hell and blanketing it with high mounds of frozen percitipation.
He found the damned cajun shivering in a corner with icicles hanging from his nose. "Cold enough for you coon ass?" the father of lies sneered.
"Here I am in hell and it be snowing, dat mean dem Saints gonna win the superbowl for true. Geaux Saints" was all he heard.
Trey
Trey, Boudreaux felt the cool Brees in Hell - indeed!
(I see a to/too error in my past post; my excuse is that I'm grading freshman comp papers and have lost all control over grammar as a result.)
I can hardly wait for the coin toss meeting between Brett Favre and Drew Brees, especially the part where Favre says "I am your father, Luke Skywalker."
Hey Trooper, where's the post about Tiger Woods having fish tacos for lunch when he's on the road? You're letting a fine dining topic slide right past.
Cool Brees, good one! I did not see that coming! We were down there for Thanksgiving again. My oyster dressing was a bit better than last year as I added bacon.
The oysters at Acme were $10! They were plump, but I actually salted them they were so bland. I have never done that before. I stopped at 2 dozen.
Trey
Of course its not meant to be. Even if by the grace of Allah that the Saints make it to the Superbowl, Peyton will be sending them marching home.
Get it...marching home...when the Saints go....oh never mind.
Got it, Michael. Peyton! That guy. I'm not worried about him. He's going to be talking up close and personal with the turf, courtesy of Charles Grant.
Peyton's got a great career in comedy waiting for him. This quarterback thing is going to get old.
Ten bucks! Trey, dem ersters are too spendy.
It takes a little cold spell for them to be fat and salty. I think I'll have to go to Acme this week.
Ten bucks! Trey, dem ersters are too spendy.
It takes a little cold spell for them to be fat and salty. I think I'll have to go to Acme this week.
Oysters make people repeat themselves.
Only if you eat two dozen.
So I've heard. So I've heard.
I went to a restaurant tonight that had an oyster and bacon sandwich on the menu.
Imagine, two of the best things in the world, between bread slices.
I didn't have it - I want to think about it and look forward to it, and go back for it, maybe after Christmas.
Or even a bit later, to celebrate the Saints winning the Superbowl.
Oyster and bacon sandwich. Wow. What genius! The logical extension of putting bacon in my oyster dressing, but I completely missed it. I gotta tell my wife about this. It is a certaintity.
Trey
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