The government trailer they've been waiting on for months has yet to materialize, and they're only now starting to rebuild their home. Their close-knit family is strewn across the country -- some in Phoenix, some in Baltimore, only one sibling in New Orleans.
"I said, 'Brian, we lost everything we had. We have nothing. We're fighting with the insurance company and FEMA, and you're going to spend money we don't have to hold onto these tickets?"' LaChandra McGowan recalled.
Sure enough, the McGowans and their two sons were back in New Orleans on Sunday. Their trip will have been brief, time enough to see some family and friends and the Saints' triumphant return home. But their presence -- and that of thousands others like them -- is as much a testament to the loyalty of Saints fans as to the resilience of the city itself.
"It's the beginning for New Orleans to come alive again," said Beverly Broussard, a season-ticket holder who has been making the three-hour trip from Mamou, La., for years now. "It's a celebration of life, back in our city."
New Orleans has always had a unique -- albeit complicated -- relationship with the Saints. The team has been dismal for most of its existence, not finishing with a winning record until 1987 and managing it only six times since then. Legend has it that the tradition of embarrassed fans donning paper bags began here, and the team was often derided as the "Aints."
But much like Green Bay and its beloved Packers, the Saints are considered family in New Orleans. You may not like them much sometimes, but they're yours and the only one you've got.
Fans filled the dome year after year, and the city's mood rose and fell with the team's won-loss record. Monica Ramsey took her devotion one step further, decorating her kitchen with Saints wallpaper, curtains and a rug, and topping it all off with a black and gold ceiling fan.
Which made last year's hardships all the more difficult. Residents who were evacuated scoured their "new" cities for sports bars that showed Saints games. Some couldn't always get the games, and had to be content with highlights here and there. Fans living outside New Orleans missed the routine they'd settled into over the years.
Tom Lambert, a New Orleans native who now lives in Tampa, has been making the 20-hour round trip for Saints home games for years. But the closest he got last season was watching on television with the half-dozen relatives who took shelter in his house.
Even those who got to see the Saints play in person said it didn't feel quite right. Chased out of New Orleans like most residents when Katrina struck on Aug. 29, 2005, the nomadic Saints played "home" games in Baton Rouge, San Antonio and New York.
"It was a little hard. I went to games in Baton Rouge, but it wasn't the same," said Kris Trahan, a season-ticket holder from New Orleans who was already wearing his Saints T-shirt on Sunday. "You've got to be in the dome."
Though the city's population is about half of what it was pre-Katrina and many residents are still trying to put their lives back together, the team sold out the dome for the entire regular-season schedule. More impressive, all of those seats were bought as season tickets, meaning there are no single-game tickets available.
Seats were so hard to come by, the McGowans bought a season ticket for their son Brian Jr., who turned 8 on Sunday and asked to see the Saints as his present.
Though Wade and Sherri Adams had always followed the Saints, their home in Gulf Shores, Ala., is about 3 1/2 hours away from New Orleans. But they've had enough close calls with hurricanes -- a tree fell on their daughter's bedroom during Hurricane Danny in 1997 -- to know how devastating the storms can be.
"We could afford to, and it needed to be done. We wanted to support the city," Wade Adams said. "We will probably be lifelong season-ticket holders from here on."
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