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It is silly in the scheme of things how much sports matter. But when all around you turns to shit and everybody but your neighbors forgets, or seems to, the emotional attachment is palpable.

So much in professional sports is canned, and this was something real, something spontaneous and pure. Through a neighborhood they drove, down a winding, dark road to a private terminal where the team's charter would land. Cars parked, one after another, the headlights looking like that scene from "Field of Dreams." Fans brought coolers and bottles of wine, standing in the pouring rain, giving something back to the team that gave them so much.

"Two miles, 'til the end of the road, it's bumper to bumper," said Saints fan Colin Ross, pointing at the people lining up near the runway. "There's little kids down there yelling 'Who Dat?' on the hoods of cars."...

In New Orleans, they had a little time to think about the year. Some cried. Karen Porche wiped a tear away and laughed a bit at herself. Most know it's crazy to care so much for a team. You had to be there, on the side of the road in a rainstorm, to understand.

"They brought us a lot of hope," she said.

"We had six feet of water in our house," her husband, Charlie, said, "and they helped."

Thanks to Scout Prime.

BTW, First Draft is making their own contribution to New Orleans if you are interested.