Alright, Who Dat Nation.
Tony picked the Saints.
I picked them before the season started.
I stuck with them last week.
Monday morning I was talking about Steve Gleason, the Dome, twenty years of memories and how that building was going to erupt when they showed that blocked punt again.
And then the game started.
Falcons 45. Saints 24.
I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out what Tony is supposed to say about this one.
And for once…
I’ve got nothing.
Not because there’s nothing to talk about.
Because there’s almost too damn much.
Of All Nights…
That’s the part that gets me.
Twenty years after one of the greatest nights in the history of that building.
Steve Gleason was there.
Curtis Deloatch was there.
They led the Who Dat chant.
Irma Thomas sang the national anthem just like she did in 2006.
The Dome was ready.
The Who Dat Nation was ready.
And Atlanta came into our building and embarrassed us.
Not Carolina.
Not Tampa.
Atlanta.
On that night.
That’s what makes 45–24 hurt differently.
Three Plays
That’s how long it took.
Atlanta’s third offensive play.
Bijan Robinson.
59 yards. Touchdown.
Seven-nothing.
Before anybody had settled into their seat, Atlanta had punched us in the mouth.
Then it became 14–0.
At halftime?
24–7.
Think about that.
All week we talked about the emotion of 2006.
All week we talked about making the Dome shake again.
Atlanta didn’t care.
They walked into the middle of our celebration and took the air right out of the building.
205 Yards. Five Touchdowns.
Tony usually has questions after a loss.
Why didn’t we kick?
Why did we call that play?
Was that really a fumble?
Where was the ball control?
This week I’ve got a much simpler question:
How in the hell do you let your biggest rival run for FIVE touchdowns in your building?
Atlanta finished with 205 rushing yards.
Bijan Robinson: 145 yards and two touchdowns.
Brian Robinson: 62 yards and three touchdowns.
That’s five rushing touchdowns between two running backs.
At some point, forget schemes.
Forget analytics.
Forget whether you’re playing zone or man.
Somebody has to say:
You’re not running through us anymore.
That never happened.
And Don’t Tell Me the Score Made It Look Worse
No.
The score looked bad because the game was bad.
Atlanta had 420 yards.
New Orleans had 320.
Atlanta never trailed.
The Saints fell behind 14–0 and never got closer than seven.
There was no fourth-quarter heartbreak this time.
There was no controversial call that decided the game.
There was no two-point conversion that almost won it.
There was no if only…
Atlanta beat us.
Period.
I’m Not Putting This All on Shough
Tyler Shough finished:
30 of 48.
286 yards.
1 touchdown.
0 interceptions.
Was it a great night?
No.
Was he the reason we lost 45–24?
Tony doesn’t see it that way.
Chris Olave gave him another big game with 8 catches for 116 yards, including a 44-yarder.
Devaughn Vele caught the touchdown.
Alvin Kamara scored twice on the ground.
There were individual moments.
But this wasn’t an individual-player problem.
This was a team getting beat in its own building problem.
About Those Boos
I heard them.
Everybody heard them.
And apparently Shough did too.
You know what?
Good.
I’m not saying that because I want these guys to fail.
It’s the opposite.
Saints fans filled that building on a Monday night.
They celebrated Gleason.
They remembered 2006.
They showed up for their football team.
And when that football team didn’t show up for them, they let them know about it.
That’s part of playing in New Orleans.
We’ll love you.
We’ll defend you.
We’ll travel with you.
We’ll argue with anybody who comes after you.
But don’t expect us to smile through 45–24 against Atlanta.
Cam Said It Better Than Tony Can
Cam Jordan’s reaction after the game tells you everything you need to know:
“To lose like that… to them… gut punch… sorry New Orleans!”
Then came the part I really liked:
“24 hr rule is dead… WAKE The hell up! get better now.”
There it is.
Don’t spend 24 hours feeling sorry for yourself.
Don’t tell us to be patient.
Don’t tell us there were positives.
Wake the hell up.
Because this team is now 1–3.
Maybe That’s Why Tony Has Nothing
After Detroit, I saw fight.
After Baltimore, I saw progress.
After Las Vegas, I saw a team that had control of a football game and gave it away.
After Atlanta?
I don’t know what I saw.
That’s what bothers me.
Four weeks into this season, what exactly are the New Orleans Saints?
Because Monday night was supposed to tell us something.
Home.
Monday Night Football.
Atlanta.
Twenty-year Domecoming anniversary.
Your biggest rival standing across from you.
If there was ever a night when motivation shouldn’t have been a problem, that was it.
And Atlanta wanted it more.
That’s hard for Tony to swallow.
So Now What?
Minnesota comes to the Dome Sunday.
There isn’t a speech I want to hear this week.
I don’t need somebody telling me practice was good.
I don’t need somebody telling me everybody is staying positive.
I don’t need to hear that it’s a long season.
Show me.
Stop the run.
Protect the football.
Quit digging holes.
Play four quarters.
And for God’s sake, defend your home field.
Because 1–3 can still become something.
But not if what we watched Monday night becomes who this team is.
Tony Was Wrong
I picked the Saints.
I believed the Dome would matter.
I believed the emotion of the night would matter.
I believed this team would understand what Saints-Falcons meant Monday night.
I was wrong.
Completely wrong.
And this time I’m not asking whether the refs screwed us.
I’m not asking whether we should’ve kicked a field goal.
I’m asking something much bigger:
Who are these Saints?
Because after four games, Tony isn’t sure anymore.
Maybe you are.
So tell me.
Am I overreacting to one terrible night?
Was this just one of those games where everything went wrong?
Or did Monday night show us something about this Saints team that we need to start taking seriously?
And here’s the biggest question:
After watching Atlanta beat us 45–24 in our own Dome, what needs to change FIRST?
Defense?
Coaching?
Running game?
Attitude?
Something else?
Tony’s at a loss for words.
So this time, Who Dat Nation, you tell me what needs to be said.
— Tony from the Westbank
WHO DAT.
Loading ...