Many writers have lampooned the fawning media coverage surrounding the Saints. The success of the town's NFL team, they reason, couldn't possibly mean much in the face of so much devastation. But they are missing the point.

New Orleans is a one-sport, one-team town (the Hornets don't count) that loves their one team unconditionally like a childhood sweetheart. And unconditional love has been a necessary ingredient because for 41 years, the love has largely been unrequited. Just 16 months ago, in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, owner Tom Benson quietly attempted to ditch the town at it's darkest hour. Now the franchise is savoring it's finest moment.

This win is a cause for a celebration in a town that lives, drinks, and breathes to celebrate life. This win, this season, would be the greatest in Saints history if Katrina had never happened. For a fanbase that has been conditioned to disappointment, Deuce, Drew, and Reggie would have been celebrated and talked about for generations in New Orleans. This isn't just about a city rebuilding, but also the resurrection of one of the sorriest franchises in American sports.

The fact that this season and first trip to the NFC Championship is coming just one year after the New Orleans was nearly wiped off the map is a small miracle. The Saints are the first team to make the Championship game one year after losing 13 games. Screenwriters wouldn't bother pitching stories like this.

As Sean Payton gave his postgame press conference Saturday, I could hear the crowd still chanting, cheering, and clapping as they were exiting the Superdome. A few of my friends were among the throng, and will be out in the streets of New Orleans tonight hugging strangers and maybe even a few Eagles fans.

They won't be thinking about Hurricane Katrina and what it all means in the grand scheme of things. They will be celebrating the greatest football team in Saints history. They will be doing what comes naturally and what New Orleans does best - throwing a party.