January 24, 2010: The NFC Championship: Vikings vs Saints
My mom and I were in attendance at this game. It went back-and-forth all game long. The Saints defense let the Vikings rack-up yardage and completions on them left and right, but a series of freakish turnovers kept them in the game.
Toward the end, not much time left, Brett Favre drove the Vikings down the field to the edge of their field goal range. I remember having the worst stress headache in my life. Excedrin (and its more powerful friends) weren't touching it. Our section, and the Dome, was unusually quiet at that moment. I turned to Mom and told her silently, "Umm.. Mom.. it looks like we really need to pull a rabbit out of the hat right about now. Otherwise, we're boned." Apparently it was quiet enough for others around me to hear my statement, because I saw solemn nods of agreement after this statement. I could see the color draining from her grim facial expression.
Then, instead of running for a few extra yards, making for an easy kick for their field goal kicker, Brett Favre decided.. to slang it. And slang he did - right into the waiting arms of Tracey Porter.
That moment:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UUeqvquXZI
The stress was not over. Overtime would come.
I remember the coin flip. I heard Jared Allen, rolling his eyes, call "heads" on my headphones, prompting me to scream aloud, "Tails never fails, dumbass!" The crowd around me laughed nervously. There was a delay from what I was hearing on my headphones and what the stadium announcer was calling. Three seconds after my proclamation, our announcer screamed: TAILS.
I think that moment was one of the loudest moments I've ever heard in the Dome. Everyone there knew what this meant in terms of our odds. This was back when the rules dictated that whoever scores first wins, period. All we needed was to get into Hartley's range.
Pierre Thomas' kickoff return was fantastic. But then there were a series of plays that were all janky. Almost every one prompted a booth review, and oddly, most of the booth reviews went in our favor. Was this fate? I didn't feel good about some of those calls, even if they benefited us.
Then came time for The Kick. Hartley was far from being our Mr Reliable. He had missed several key kicks over the past season, but they had never really cost us that much, save for one embarrassing moment with Mr Benson up in his suite during the final game of the season.
After the players lined-up from the Vikings' attempt to ice Hartley, Mom grabbed my hand and squeezed. I could see the tears in her eyes welling-up. Next thing I know, my ear drums are blown-out and she has her face buried in my chest, bawling like a little girl. All that stress of decades of losing, gone. I can't hold it together either, tears flowing freely as I'm screaming, "No flags! No flags! SUPERBOWL!" Seems like many folks had that problem. Very high emotions, something I've never, ever seen.
We stayed in the Dome for what seemed like forever. We cried some more. Then, we danced our way out of the Dome, a brass band waiting for us outside of the Dome's doors. Another brass band greeted us on Poydras Street, with media copters hovering overhead, and the crowd is still all dancing together as we're moving along. We danced, hugged strangers, sang, and just enjoyed the chaos in general that night. It felt as though the city was celebrating the end of a war.. I've never seen so many euphoric people in one place at one time. I'll never forget it.
NFL Films' end of the game.. the interception, the overtime, the Kick:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FT2nknwxQis
(I still can't get through it without crying. It'll be a memory I think about on my deathbed.)