Somewhere in this huge land of ours, a newspaper or a sports site or a TV network must have used the line I'm using as my headline.
It seems like an obvious thing.
Most people probably associate that line with Louis Armstrong and a jazz band. But, originally, it was an American gospel hymn, and it has been frequently used as a funeral march in New Orleans.
They aren't in mourning in New Orleans today. The Saints defeated the Indianapolis Colts in last night's Super Bowl.
If you read what I wrote yesterday, I picked the Colts to win. And that seemed to be the consensus, although New Orleans was the sentimental choice of a lot of observers. People often speak of how a city or region "deserves" a sports championship because of the hard times it has endured, but that seems to be particularly true of New Orleans.
With the wreckage left by Hurricane Katrina still evident in parts of the city nearly five years after Katrina made landfall, it's almost impossible to make the case that the folks in New Orleans don't deserve to feel good about themselves.
Jeff Duncan writes, in the New Orleans Times–Picayune, that the town belongs to quarterback Drew Brees, the game's MVP, and I'm sure it does.
Meanwhile, Bob Kravitz muses in the Indianapolis Star that the "football gods" may have had their revenge for the Colts' decision to sit their marquee players instead of making an earnest effort to finish the regular season with a perfect record.
But then he appeared to regain his sense of perspective. "The Saints were too good, too polished, too inspired ... too intent on bringing their wounded city a much–needed boost. Think about this: In their championship run, the Saints beat Kurt Warner, Brett Favre and Peyton Manning.
Yes, it was.
Congratulations to the Saints.