I don’t even know where to start.

A lot of football to talk about before we even get to the things with wings.

As a PBB subscriber reminded me today, I wrote several years ago that the playoff games are usually much more exciting to watch than the Superbowl, and this year has certainly been no exception.

Of course, we have our own dog in this fight this year, and I have to say, I am breathing a bit easier now. Sorry Bears fans, but I think the Philly/New Orleans game Saturday night was between the two best teams in the NFC.

Da Bears? Da Bears? The Seahawks nearly beat da Bears with no secondary whatsoever and a quarterback who, at times, looked like he was on another planet. Or was it just the play calling that was from another planet? (Insert tweaked video of former Coach Jim Mora hysterically exclaiming “Da Bears? Da Bears?” over and over here.)

Of course this has not stopped a couple of PBB Chicago-based subscribers from sending me notes already — wondering if maybe we should engage in a little “friendly wager” of some type. Okay. I’m game. I’m thinking about what it is I want to win.

Speaking of Chicago — if almost 7000 fans could not find time to show up at the stadium Sunday for a playoff game, can someone please explain to me why, when the small number of publicly available tickets to the game Sunday do go on sale Tuesday that only people who have credit cards with zip codes from the Chicago area and Indiana are going to be able to purchase tickets online from Ticketmaster?

I have a problem with this.

Maybe I need to call Ed Stewart up and give him an earful. What do you think? You all remember Ed. He was at Southwest Airlines for years. Finally left for the glitter and glitz of LA and Ticketmaster.

Yep. I think Ed needs an ear-thrashing on this one.

But enough Saints-centric discussion. Alas, my previous dream match-up of the Saints/Chargers is now dead meat. Thank you Tom Brady. I’d say Marty-ball is now dead as well. Bye,bye Marty.

Talk about a game that is going to be fun to watch — the Patriots/Indy game next week is going to be a killer.

Yet again, another Superbowl game before the fact.

Oh, and if you want to know what my mental state was Saturday night, here’s an excerpt from the brilliant Times-Picayune columnist Chris Rose who nailed it in his Sunday column.

This football nonsense is a lot more fun when it doesn’t matter.

I went to the game last night and — don’t get me wrong — it was unbelievable to be there and all that, but I’ve got to level with you: It’s a lot easier in the fall.

In the fall, the weather is turning and the air is fresh and when you talk about the Saints or watch the game with your friends, you think: Wouldn’t it be great if we got into the playoffs?

In the fall, it’s all just speculation and wishing and dreaming and delusional chatter and none of it matters because none of it will amount to anything because it’s the Saints and we all know what happens to the Saints in the winter.

We’ve been at this party for 40 years and our hearts and livers have scar tissue tougher than pigskin and we’ve got a box of broken promises bigger than Hollis Thomas.

So that’s why, in the fall, you can go to a game and if they happen to win, some jughead outside the stadium starts chanting “Super Bowl! Super Bowl!” on the way to the parking lot and you say to the imaginary waitress in your head: I’ll have what he’s smoking.

It’s crazy, talk like that. Crazy is what it is.

In the fall, football is just a game, a pastime, an excuse not to mow the lawn, or an excuse to get out of the house, or to pop an Abita Purple Haze before noon even though it’s not just for breakfast anymore.

But in January, it’s different. In New Orleans, everything is different. Since the flood and all the bad stuff that washed in but not out, everything is different and up is down and cold is hot and brown is the new black and how the hell did we get to the point where it actually mattered if the Saints won or lost a game?

…….Surely it’s a dream. Right? But you don’t feel pain in dreams and, man — this one nearly killed me.

I mean, one minute it’s 3-zip and it feels good and then it’s 6-zip and it feels good and then 7-6 Eagles and this sucks and then 13-6 Saints glory hallelujah and then 14-13 and then 21-13 and then 21-20 and all I can think is: This is a lot more fun when it doesn’t matter.

And then it’s 27-21 and then 27-24 and then all I want are my cyanide capsules, push me in front of the train, just shoot me, would somebody please tackle Westbrook — what the hell’s the matter with you guys and, oh yeah — it’s only a game.”

Yep. I wanted those same cyanide capsules when Reggie Bush mishandled that pitch in the fourth quarter.

Bring on da Bears.