Who dat rejoicing? Saints fans

NEW ORLEANS — The sound rose up and spread across the rooftops of the old city, a deep, guttural, biblical sound — the sound of souls wailing by the thousands.

There would be no tragedy this time. These were the howls of victory, emanating from Bourbon Street.

New Orleans — long burdened as a symbol of hard luck and misery — was erupting in pure joy. The Saints had won the Super Bowl, and the people had spilled into the streets to cheer away the bad times.

"I never thought it could happen — I got tingles!" said Talanda Chiqueta, 33, working her way through a seemingly endless throng of chanting souls. Chiqueta, of nearby Donaldsonville, La., said she had suffered along with the poor-performing Saints her entire life, and referred to her fandom almost as if it were an exotic chromosomal abnormality.

"Oh, Lord," she screamed over the din. "It's been in the family forever."

The South's great party city and infamous den of iniquity has seen just about everything over the years — except for this celebration, long its great collective wish.

Bourbon Street, normally shunned by locals, was packed with them Sunday night. A tuba honked out the spine of timeworn Mardi Gras anthems. And the people burst, again and again, into the grammatically loosey-goosey aural tattoo that the outside world, too, has learned in recent weeks: "Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints?"

Anticipation over the Super Bowl had built to bursting. Everyone — from the saltiest line cook to the stuffiest Uptown lawyer — seemingly was decked out in black and gold, and people spoke of the Saints' victory in providential tones. One popular T-shirt called them "Destiny's Team."

For days before the game, airwaves and Web sites were full of heartfelt laments for parents, aunts and uncles who had stuck with the team for so long but hadn't lived to see this day.

"We'll be watching the game tonight with Mom, and have Dad's ashes in front of the TV," a fan by the name of "hurricat" posted on The Times-Picayune's Web site. "I ... wouldn't want to take away from the hard work of those incredible guys on the field and the sidelines, but I can't help thinking the critical mass of saints in heaven made a difference this year."

The celebration probably will continue for days: The city, hedging against a defeat, had planned a special parade for the team Tuesday, win or lose. The following Tuesday is Mardi Gras.

Fans began clogging the French Quarter on Sunday afternoon expecting the pandemonium that would come with a victory. First, much of New Orleans went to worship, dressed in Saints attire.

In storm-battered New Orleans East, they poured into a tiny storefront church by the name of Jesus Outreach Ministries and Fellowship. Boys wore long braids in the deep South style and Drew Brees jerseys; women wore T-shirts with fleur-de-lis jewelry and matching handkerchiefs.

"Oh, look at all that black and gold," said the Rev. Billy Zacharie Jr., a Saints T-shirt peeking out from behind a well-tailored suit jacket. "We thank God for the earthly Saints and the heavenly saints, Amen?"

"Amen!" the people shouted.

"And with the help of the Lord we gonna be in that number victorious, Amen?"

"Amen!" they said.

Before Katrina, Zacharie's church was in the 9th Ward. It flooded after the 2005 storm, so Zacharie relocated for a while to his garage. More recently, his church has been in this flood-beaten stretch of New Orleans East, in a ramshackle strip mall. Every week since early fall, church members have been singing, "When the Saints Go Marching In" and praying for their team.

Most of the 70 or so members had lived some version of the Katrina story. But Sunday there was a feeling New Orleans, once written off as lost and unlivable, had been validated. The Saints were in the big show, an occasion for pride and joy.

"This season's been a blessing, man," said Gary Leigh, the bassist in the three-piece band. "Just an uplifting for the whole community."