I’m not ashamed to admit it. Well, actually, I’m a little ashamed to admit it. No sense in denying it though. The Saints have got me right back where they want me. Again.

It’s been a month of love, deception, greed and… starting now… unbridled enthusiasm. I can’t help it.

Maybe I’m just a simple country boy, some might say a cockeyed optimist, who’s getting caught up in the high-stakes game of world diplomacy and inter-conference intrigue. And perhaps it will lead to my downfall, as it did for Billy. Maybe it really is more a question of attitude than politics, and were I not so enthusiastic, I could avert disaster. But what fun is that? I’m a Saints fan, dammit. Barreling headlong into disaster is what I do best. So screw it, might as well go balls out with it. 19-0, female doges!

I’d say that it’s hard to deny that the Saints have looked pretty doggone badass so far this preseason, but actually, it’s ridiculously easy. Apparently, all you’ve gotta do is to issue yet another reminder that it’s preseason. It’s retort-proof. Anything you want can be explained away as a mirage with two little words.

As Saints fans, we’re usually trying to explain away the ugly. We’re not used to explaining away the pretty. And it’s only gonna get prettier, with the starters playing 2.5 to 3 quarters this weekend at… Oakland. Might as well go ahead and embrace it now, because it looks like it might be quite a while now before the other shoe drops.

Of course, in typical Saints fashion, the big news of the week is bad news. Good thing we’re already embracing things, or at least getting used to them, because we might as well take this opportunity to start coming to grips with the end of the Jammal Brown Era in New Orleans.

The epilogue began Saturday night. I’m sure I’ll be accused of overreacting to Bushrod’s performance, but it’s not that, I promise. Hell, I was too busy giggling like a schoolgirl (as is my usual wont) at the name "Bushrod" to really notice. Will that ever get old? I can’t imagine it will anytime soon. But, hilarious surnames aside, it’s not like I’m ready to proclaim him a "beast" or anything like that. I will point out that holding his own against perhaps a top 3 defensive end in the league in his first significant playing time is nothing to sneeze at, preseason or not.

But it’s not about Bushrod. It’s about Brown. And the six year, $60MM contract the Saints aren’t gonna give him next offseason.

You’ll have to pardon me for my relative lack of apoplexy over this situation. It’s not that I think Brown is a bad player. He’s not. It’s just that he’s not exactly Willie Roaf either.

Remember that this guy had red flags about his knees long before the Saints even drafted him. And to his credit, he’s managed to survive his mid-twenties and become one of the better left tackles in the league. There’s no denying that he does a damn fine job of keeping The Franchise clean and upright. And there’s no denying that, for now, that’s the most important thing.

But it’s time to let go of the notion that Drew Brees is made of glass because of a freak injury four years ago while trying to recover a fumble. And it’s time to let go of the notion that there’s no middle ground between Jammal Brown or Willie Roaf, and Wayne Gandy or Darryl Terrell.

Because the Saints can’t afford to give Brown 6/60. They just can’t. And they shouldn’t.

Oh sure, the current CBA situation complicates matters. In theory, Brown could find himself a restricted free agent rather than an unrestricted free agent (not that it’ll make much difference in what some other team would offer him, especially in an uncapped year.) Otherwise, the Saints could have the option of franchising him for a downright bargain basement price of around $9MM for one year. (And you think it got ugly with LeCharles?)

But all of those options suck in one way or another. If you’re looking for a silver lining to the dark cloud of Brown’s injury, it’s that he wasn’t gonna be here after this year anyway. At least necessity has dictated that they address the issue sooner than later.

Meantime, feel free to sue me if Brown’s absence (or presence at less than 100%) sinks the Saints’ season. But it won’t. And this is coming from the guy who told you last year that Marteen’s presence would sink the season, and it did. Drew is not made of glass. And maybe the next guy, whoever he might be, can manage to draw fewer than nine flags for 80 yards in a given year.

Another silver lining to the Brown injury, as Ralph so eloquently pointed out, is that fear may compel Sean Payton to run the ball more often. And that could be a beautiful thing, now that Mike Bell has apparently turned into Jim Brown.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. I think it’s just fuckin’ great that Bell made it through a whole game without fumbling. Who am I to question that? Hey, I’m in full-blown homer mode these days. I’ll believe anything. I’m sure he’s got it all figured out now. And I totally didn’t even notice when Payton called his number on four straight plays, FOUR!!!, and Bell was calling for the check after the second of the four plays. I’m pretty sure I heard both Payton and Pierre shouting "Hahaha, OWNED!" from the sideline as the resignation set in that he wasn’t getting a hit of that sweet, sweet bench just yet.

Hey, I’m just sayin’. Good luck with the whole Mike-Bell-Is-The-Next-Dulymus thing. Just don’t come cryin’ to me the next time he fumbles. Which could be any minute now.

Shit, I’m pretty sure that a few paragraphs ago, I claimed to be in full-blown homer mode. And now I’ve gone completely off point and have turned into a total asshole. Clearly I need to regroup at Red Lobster. You probably stopped reading about a half hour ago anyway.

Alright, fine. More tomorrow, guaranteed. Rod Harper, Adrian Arrington, Marques Colston, Scott Shanle AND MORE! Be here or be queer. Or both.

Meantime, you do realize that this is The Year, right? RIGHT? For real this time. It has to be.