MERIDIAN —     I'm not real sure when I actually started loving football.

    It could have been sometime near the day I learned to walk, talk, or maybe even as soon as I crawled the first time across a lawn and felt the grass on my knees and the smell of the earth.

    Regardless, my brother, Victor, was a fan before I was — he is five years older than me.  I can vaguely remember when my family lived in Lexington, Miss. I was around the age of six (in 1972) and the Buffalo Bills were the team I loved most. I had a red, white and blue jersey with the No. 32 on it and I would wear it religiously.

    My brother, on the other hand, was a die-hard New Orleans Saints fan. You couldn't pass by his room without seeing some hint of black and gold and there was always the No. 8 visible. Yep, good ole Archie Manning!!!

    Even before Archie was playing for the Saints, my brother would listen to Ole Miss football games in Grenada and Lexington, with the voice of Stan Torgerson belting out the play-by-play. Pretty amazing considering my brother was probably only around six or seven-years-old himself at that time. It reminds me of Ralphie from "A Christmas Story," sitting in front of the radio to see what Little Orphan Annie was about to do.

    My brother then followed Manning as he started his first game with the Saints; they defeated the Rams. Then after a few losses that year they defeated the eventual Super Bowl champion, the Dallas Cowboys. The Saints won a total of four games that season.

    In 1978 the Saints went 7-9 and Archie made it to the Pro Bowl that year, and in his following year when the Saints finally had a non-losing 8-8 season. My brother thought that was like making the playoffs back then. But they went drastically down hill from then on and lovingly became known as the "Aints," at least to my brother.

    Eventually I converted to Saintdom. I tossed the Buffalo jersey in the closet and started sporting the black and gold. By then we had moved to Decatur (1975) where black and gold was all things! My alma mater for high school and junior college was the Warriors and the B&G colors.

    I did sway to the way-side for a bit and become a Cowboys fan. After all, Roger Staubach was our idol back then. But eventually I went running back to the Saints.

     Headache after headache, hoping that this team would actually look like something other than Keystone Cops, Jim Mora came in and took over. All of a sudden there was a ray of sunlight. It lasted a while, but eventually I got sick of being teased with the horses running to the water and never even tasting it. They always fell down and died with their hooves wet!

    Before long I became a die-hard Brett Favre fan (around 1993) . Packers were my team and I wasn't going to look back. Then the Saints tempted me again. The new millennium coaxed me into falling for them.

    Needless to say, I was let down yet again!

    I can't say that I didn't care what happened, I've always kept an open heart of wishing each year would be different, but I just decided to not get hyped up too much. They started off this season like gangbusters, then Bam, Bam, Bam. Here we go with the losing. I refused to get my hopes up when things started turning around in their favor again. Then they made it to the NFC Championship to play against none other than my man, Brett.

    I was almost afraid to watch the game, mainly due to my brother thinking I am a jinx because everyone I watch loses. But I watched, screamed, and even cried at the end.

    It's been a long time coming and now I am ready to watch them face a team lead by another one of my favorites. Sorry, Peyton Manning, but this is one time I'm not going to be pulling for you. I will focus on another 'Payton' instead.

    Geaux Saints! Who Dat!!??!!



    Paula Merritt is chief photographer of The Meridian Star. E-mail her at pmerritt@themeridianstar.com.