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Lawn Guy Dave stopped by my apartment last night to bring me some Christmas presents from my kids and ex-wife. He has been incarcerated but he was recently paroled. Some sort of mix up about a business venture with some partners he has in Mexico. Despite his incarceration he's still able to get inside information about the Saints. I figured I would share his unique insights into this season.
The December night air was heavy and crisp as Lawn Guy Dave stepped out of the black IROC-Z. As he shut the door he flicked a spent Winston onto the grass. He paused for a moment with a sack of presents slung over the shoulder of his denim jacket. He stood looking up at Christmas lights on the building. In the glow of the lights his solemn, weathered face told the story of a man who had seen much and forgotten little. A grin touched the corner of his mouth as if he had just heard a joke that only he could hear. He softly whispered, "So this is Christmas, and what have you done?". His grin turned into a wide smile as he noticed me peeping out through the blinds. As he strode to my front door with his hair flowing behind him and his hot breathe billowing into the cold night air, I was reminded of a wild stallion roaming the Montana frontier under the stars of a cold Christmas night long forgotten.
He stepped inside and lit another Winston. I explained that my apartment was smoke free and he explained that he didn't mind. He informed me that "no smoking" rules are more like suggestions. He said, "Drago freedom is just an illusion if you don't have liberty. Don't let them take your liberty away from you." Although I don't smoke myself he had a fair point. So we sat down and he smoked and talked. After showing me a few videos of my children opening their presents, eventually the talk turned to the Saints.
Lawn Guy Dave stood and walked to the window. He stared out into the night and then bowed his head. I asked him if he was okay and he turned his head to look at me. A single tear ran down his rough cheek and he said, "Drago do I look okay? Nothing is okay. It's all over. Don't you understand? It's all over." I told him that nothing is ever truly over and that we have next year to look forward to. He laughed and said, "Next year? What about next year? Do you think anything is going to change? That's what nobody understands. It can't be changed Drago. It's over. For years I knew this day would come but knowing a thing and actually living through it, well, there's a big difference. All this time I thought Mickey would reset after Drew left. And when Sean left I knew they were going to go in a different direction. Mickey told me as much. And then what does he do? He hires Dennis and gives Pete the keys to the kingdom. Hell I wouldn't give Pete the keys to my tool shed much less a NFL offense. I told Mickey he needed to stop with all the cap shenanigans. He said he would stop monkeying around with the cap but did he? No. He said he would stop trading draft picks willy nilly but he didn't. Now we're stuck. No draft picks. No cap space. Old roster. No QB. No Sean. No Drew. No hope. They say hell is the absence of god. Do you know what hell is for a fan? It's the absence of hope. I tried to tell them but they wouldn't listen. Socrates once said that falling down is not failure. Failure comes when you stay where you have fallen. Well that's where the Saints are. They have fallen and they refuse to get up. They refuse to change. I've rooted for the Saints all my life. When Mora burnt out, the Ditka years, when Haslett let the dogs out, I was there for it all. I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Through it all I never lost hope. Until now."
Lawn Guy Dave dropped his Winston onto the carpet and stubbed it out with his boot. "You know Drago, I didn't choose this life. It chose me. I could've been born a Cowboys fan. My god can you imagine?" He tried to smile but it faded quickly. "Merry Christmas Drago. I hope you have a happy New Year." As he walked out I heard him say over his shoulder, "We endure Drago. We endure."
I watched the IROC's taillights until they disappeared into the night. His last words repeating in my mind.
The December night air was heavy and crisp as Lawn Guy Dave stepped out of the black IROC-Z. As he shut the door he flicked a spent Winston onto the grass. He paused for a moment with a sack of presents slung over the shoulder of his denim jacket. He stood looking up at Christmas lights on the building. In the glow of the lights his solemn, weathered face told the story of a man who had seen much and forgotten little. A grin touched the corner of his mouth as if he had just heard a joke that only he could hear. He softly whispered, "So this is Christmas, and what have you done?". His grin turned into a wide smile as he noticed me peeping out through the blinds. As he strode to my front door with his hair flowing behind him and his hot breathe billowing into the cold night air, I was reminded of a wild stallion roaming the Montana frontier under the stars of a cold Christmas night long forgotten.
He stepped inside and lit another Winston. I explained that my apartment was smoke free and he explained that he didn't mind. He informed me that "no smoking" rules are more like suggestions. He said, "Drago freedom is just an illusion if you don't have liberty. Don't let them take your liberty away from you." Although I don't smoke myself he had a fair point. So we sat down and he smoked and talked. After showing me a few videos of my children opening their presents, eventually the talk turned to the Saints.
Lawn Guy Dave stood and walked to the window. He stared out into the night and then bowed his head. I asked him if he was okay and he turned his head to look at me. A single tear ran down his rough cheek and he said, "Drago do I look okay? Nothing is okay. It's all over. Don't you understand? It's all over." I told him that nothing is ever truly over and that we have next year to look forward to. He laughed and said, "Next year? What about next year? Do you think anything is going to change? That's what nobody understands. It can't be changed Drago. It's over. For years I knew this day would come but knowing a thing and actually living through it, well, there's a big difference. All this time I thought Mickey would reset after Drew left. And when Sean left I knew they were going to go in a different direction. Mickey told me as much. And then what does he do? He hires Dennis and gives Pete the keys to the kingdom. Hell I wouldn't give Pete the keys to my tool shed much less a NFL offense. I told Mickey he needed to stop with all the cap shenanigans. He said he would stop monkeying around with the cap but did he? No. He said he would stop trading draft picks willy nilly but he didn't. Now we're stuck. No draft picks. No cap space. Old roster. No QB. No Sean. No Drew. No hope. They say hell is the absence of god. Do you know what hell is for a fan? It's the absence of hope. I tried to tell them but they wouldn't listen. Socrates once said that falling down is not failure. Failure comes when you stay where you have fallen. Well that's where the Saints are. They have fallen and they refuse to get up. They refuse to change. I've rooted for the Saints all my life. When Mora burnt out, the Ditka years, when Haslett let the dogs out, I was there for it all. I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Through it all I never lost hope. Until now."
Lawn Guy Dave dropped his Winston onto the carpet and stubbed it out with his boot. "You know Drago, I didn't choose this life. It chose me. I could've been born a Cowboys fan. My god can you imagine?" He tried to smile but it faded quickly. "Merry Christmas Drago. I hope you have a happy New Year." As he walked out I heard him say over his shoulder, "We endure Drago. We endure."
I watched the IROC's taillights until they disappeared into the night. His last words repeating in my mind.
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