To understand the scope of Sunday night's victory by the New Orleans Saints over the World Champion Tampa Bay Buccaneers and their seemingly ageless quarterback is to see the passion with which fans at the District Bar on Tchoupitoulas Street chant "F*** Tom Brady!"
Every miscue, every sack, every pressured run seemed to be followed by a cheer and the familiar jeer.
The house exploded with Brady's last gasp interception thrown into the arms of Chauncey Gardner-Johnson.
This wasn't a rebuke of the Buccaneer fans, the Buccaneers as a team, but a chorus of people who in the hearts and minds were sick of seeing Tom Terrific finally be seen as the one thing he's never been shown to be: beatable.
When Brady tossed his iPad in the fourth quarter, frustrated and shaken because his front line couldn't deliver on the promise of endless pocket time to throw, the emperor was finally seen without clothes.
I tried to get the crowd to at least chant "Let's Go Taysom", but they weren't having it.
A pair of fans broke out into an improvised "Choppa Style" rap, which proved useful for inserting cuts of fans praise of the team, which kicked the Buccaneers to death with field goals and stopped Tom Terrific and held their team scoreless.
These fans were electrified. Some actually chanted that this is the team that will lead New Orleans back to the promised land of the Superbowl.
Of all the great quarterbacks whose names are erected high in the stadium where they played their great games it might be time to add one more name.
Because Tom Brady appeared not just flustered by his performance Sunday night.
Dare we say he appeared… …old?
