Say, remember November 30, 2009? That was one hell of a fine day right there.

The Saints went into the game 10-0, with only one of their ten wins coming by a margin of less than 8 points. They had scored 45+ four times, while scoring fewer than 30 only three times. The Patriots were 7-3 overall, 1-3 on the road, 0-2 against teams with winning records, and while they weren't exactly reeling or anything, the general consensus was that they had been a step below the usual Belichick/Brady standard for most of the year. If that weren't enough, the Patriots were going to have to deal with a nighttime Dome crowd that was sure to be louder and crazier than at any point since September 25, 2006. It was being billed as a possible changing of the guard, the 2009 Saints' official™ coming out party.

Still, the prevailing vibe amongst Saints fans leading up to the game was one of trepidation. After all, they were still the Mighty Patriots. Tom Brady. Randy Moss. Bill Belichick. Four Super Bowls, three Lombardis. That the last one had come 5 years ago was only barely relevant. After all, they'd gone 18-1 in 2007, and 11-5 in 2008 with their backup quarterback who hadn't started a game since high school for crying out loud.

Not everybody was shaking in their boots. Our friends Mr. Clio, Claude Coupee and MT certainly weren't worried. But most of us, including yours truly, were nervous that this might have been one of those "upstart gets brutally beat down by the fading champion one last time before the upstart is truly ready to take that last step and become the champion" situations.

We sure nailed that one, didn't we?

The Patriots' previous three losses had been by margins of 7, 3 and 1. In that order. The Saints beat them by 21. It would end up being the Patriots' most lopsided loss of the year.

Belichick waved the white flag with 13:21 left(!!!) down by 14 and sending in the punter. Sean Payton apparently didn't get the hint, so Belichick conceded a second time, pulling Tom Brady and sending Brian Hoyer in with 5:26 remaining. At one point you can actually hear Belichick, clearly well aware of the venue, shouting "No mas!" as Sugar Sean cupped his hand to his ear and shrugged.

(Oh yeah, I think this hearkening back to last year is gonna become a regular feature of moosedenied game preview posts henceforth. It's big fun.)

And the rest, as they say, is history. The Patriots went 3-2 the rest of the way, while the Saints went 2-3, prompting Skip Bayless to pronounce the Patriots a pick 'em in the inevitable Colts/Pats AFC Championship Game, and the Saints a dead team walking going into the playoffs, with a 0% chance of beating The Great Kurt Warner. The Patriots proceeded to get their asses kicked by the Ravens in the Wild Card round, while the Saints went on to… (all together now) WIN THE FUCKIN' SUPER BOWL! High five!

Turns out, it really was the changing of the guard it had been billed as in the days leading up to the game.

Nine and a half months later, while the Saints are trying to become what the Patriots were, the Patriots are trying to become what the Saints are.

Boston-based national sportswriter Tom Curran: "You think you're good still because you're the Patriots? These are the Saints. This is good. Take a look at it and see how far away from it you are."

Although Curran put it in quotes, it's not clear whether or not that's actually a direct quote from Belichick. But if it's not, it's probably pretty damn close. Belichick has been kissing Payton's and the Saints' asses since last November, before the Saints handed them their asses. And while I'm sure that's primarily a motivational tactic for his team, probably based on an increasingly evident fat-and-happy vibe coming from his players, ultimately, that kind of thing doesn't motivate anybody if they know there's no truth to it.

Big Daddy Drew Bawston Guy: NO ONE DENIES THIS!!!! FACK YOU!

Indeed. Belichick certainly hasn't been denying it. This is the guy who, just yesterday, when asked about what kind of advice he may be giving to Sean Payton this week, replied (paraphrasing) "He did a better job last year than I did. I might need to get some advice from him."

What a difference 9½ months makes. Oh how the worm has turned.

But while all that stuff is really fuckin' cool, it's not really gonna have much bearing on Thursday night's pushing and shoving.

As of this morning, it appears that all eyes are gonna be on Chris Ivory and PJ Hill. We've been told all offseason that Lynell Hamilton was all set to step into the role formerly filled by Jim Brown Mike Bell. So much for that. Apparently, Hamilton booked himself a trip on the midnight train to Gimp City during this morning's practice.

That loud splat you heard was thousands of internet Saints fans simultaneously soiling their pants.

Over Lynell Hamilton.

Most of them are the same people who think it's perfectly acceptable for Mickey Loomis to lowball the fuck out of the Saints' leading rusher and leading total-yards producer over the last two years because, if all else fails, you can just walk down the street a ways and pick from a big bin of 'em. Right, Message Board Guy?

But without Hamilton, clearly the Saints are totally screwed now.

How in the blue hell did LOOMIS(!!!!) not see this coming when he opted to let Jim Brown Mike Bell and his cleats bolt for Philly? How ever will they convert a 3rd & short now?

Fortunately for us, we've known for quite some time now that both PJ Hill and Chris Ivory are beasts. And I mean Junior Galette level beasts. So I'm not sure why heads are exploding over this. I mean, all these guys were plucked from the same big bin, right? Chris Ivory just needs his big break, right?

And if all else fails, I'm sure Ladell Betts has plenty left in the tank. And by "plenty" I mean "more than Mike Bell." I've heard that he's pretty meticulous about his cleats too. So he's got that going for him. Say, anybody know what Jerald Moore and Terry Allen are up to these days?

Or hey, I don't know, maybe Pierre just goes ahead and sets career highs in rushes, rushing yards, yards per carry, receptions and receiving yards for the fourth consecutive year. Sure, it's pretty crazy, but by golly, it just might work. (And I've heard that Reggie's all healthy and weapony and playmaky these days too, if that kinda thing does it for ya.)

Not that we'll be seeing a whole lot of that tomorrow. You've gotta figure that it's pretty much gonna be all Ebony and Ivory all night. That is, once Drew gets his two touchdown passes and everybody goes "Oh yeah, there's always that." Which oughta leave about 50 minutes for The Next Next Mike Bell auditions. I'm sure the Patriots' third string defense is crapping its pants right about now.

But the best part? The chances of our being subjected to 50 minutes of the Patrick Ramsey/Chase Daniel(s)/Sean Canfield WTF Was That Show have been greatly reduced. High five!

(Meantime, damn shame about all that, Lynell. That's ghastly business right there, and we here at moosedenied genuinely wish you the speediest of recoveries.)