God bless the Superdome.  The New Orleans landmark has served the city faithfully for 35 years or so. It has functioned as a football facility, a basketball arena and, at times like this week, as a shelter from hurricanes.

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of a Saints game or a Super Bowl in the Superdome, it's really an experience.  It's freaking huge, rising up out of the New Orleans downtown like a giant turtle.  And the Saints fans, for good reason, are among the most pessimistic in the league.  They've been let down by the Saints for years, but they still show up in hopes that this year will be different.  Usually by the second quarter, though, the boo birds are out and many of the fans have turned their attention to getting drunk at the many bars in the stadium   The last time I was there, I was surrounded by middle-aged people in Deuce McAllister and Ricky Williams jerseys smoking (yes, indoors) and making out between sips of their tall daiquiris.  Quite the scene, I assure you.

Early this week, though, the Superdome was home to another sad lot - New Orleans residents who couldn't afford to evacuate the city in front of Hurricane Katrina.  Those of you who have New Orleans experience know that it is a city of stark juxtaposition, from the elegance of the Garden District to the extensive despair of its many housing projects.  Needless to say, there were a bunch of folks who shacked up in the Superdome to escape Katrina's fury.  Here's a quote I lifted from an AP story about it.

"They hadn't opened up and let us in here, there'd have been a lot of people floating down river tomorrow," said Merrill Rice, 64. "If it's as bad as they say, I know my old house won't stand it."

The Superdome took its beating, too.  The power went out, and the emergency generators that took over pushed only some lights, not the air conditioner.  Then the roof began to leak and a few holes opened.  But she stood, which is a lot more than other New Orleans buildings can say.

Game week is here

It's finally game week.  Hell yeah!

Enough with the NFL preseason.  It's time to suit up the colleges for actual meaningful football.  I've got my bags packed and my plans made.  The tickets are magneted to the fridge so I think about it every time I go for another beer.  The liquor store run has been made, and the hotel is booked.  It's going to be a hell of a time for The Average Joe in Memphis this weekend.  Well, that is, if Ole Miss beats Memphis.  Sadly, for this Rebels fan, that is no longer a given.  

The Tigers have beaten Ole Miss two straight years.  This is unacceptable for a variety of reasons.  While many sports writers never got off their soap box about Ole Miss's firing of David Cutcliffe after last season, the fact that Memphis is a 2.5 favorite against an SEC team is proof positive that something was off in Oxford.  That line wouldn't be any different if Cutcliffe was still around.  The Rebels still wouldn't have an established quarterback, and the defense would probably much worse off if they had stayed in the 4-2-5 they were running, which put the Ole Miss defenders on par with the French who manned the Maginot Line in 1941.  Lucky for me, Memphis running back DeAngelo Williams, while very good, is no German blitzkrieg.  He'll need a lot of help from his Tiger teammates on offense, help I'm not sure they can provide.  

So, Rebel fortunes aside, it's setting up to be a sweet weekend.  White Russians in the Peabody Hotel lobby.  Ribs and pitchers of Michelob at the Rendezvous.  A few beers at The Flying Saucer, maybe some wings at Hooters.  And then a good dose of harassment from Memphis fans in the Liberty Bowl parking lot.  

That much I'm sure of.  It's a freaking miracle I didn't get arrested as I left the Liberty Bowl in 2003 after Memphis beat Ole Miss in Eli Manning's senior season.  Tigers fans were acting like they had just won the Super Bowl.  In a way, they had, because any year that Tennessee or Ole Miss is on the schedule, that's the Super Bowl.  But Tiger fans are not accustomed to success, and act accordingly whenever they pull off a big win.  I heard more verbal insults thrown at myself, my wife and my parents in one 20-minute stretch than I have in multiple trips to Baton Rouge and Starkville, and that's saying a lot.

I've put in the work.  My bourbon legs are firmly under me.  My throat is rested and ready for three hours of yelling.  My flask is ready.  A long and dreary offseason is finally drawing to a merciful close.  It's college football time, and The Average Joe is pumped up.