Michael Thomas is on the verge of greatness. The backup centers can't snap the ball. Will Lutz is going all Great Dane with it. The Ingram-Peterson-Kamara crew looks fun as hell, if not downright daunting. Tommylee Lewis might just render the Brandin Cooks' departure moot. Ted Ginn still can't catch. Marcus Williams looks every bit the ballhawk the Saints have long been without.
And then there are the injuries. Significant injuries.
First it was Max Unger. Then it was Armstead. Then Fairley. Now Delvin Breaux.
Breaux's injury has been particularly instructive, a window into a franchise being held together by Drew Brees and a roll of duct tape.
|photo c/o USA Today|
The Saints mangled, in every conceivable way, Breaux's recovery from a broken leg in 2016, subsequent diagnosis during the 2017 preseason, and hastened return to the field. It has been quite the spectacle to ogle, something the Payton-era Saints have done artfully over the years.
After Breaux’s diagnosis by the Saints’ medical staff (a contusion), Saints' coaches urged Breaux to play through the pain in his leg, something Breaux attempted, then smartly chose not to do further. When Breaux rebuffed his coaches and decided not to practice, what did the Saints do?
Did they think that perhaps Breaux had been misdiagnosed? Nah. Did they consider that rather than needing to be prodded, Breaux needed medical attention? Of course not.
Instead, like a Fat Elvis lounge act whose bag of tricks emptied long ago, they pathetically leaked a trade rumor to the media in a delusional attempt to "motivate" Breaux. As fucking if. Almost beside the point, but equally moronic, was the idea that any team with a modicum of lucidity would trade for an injured player.
Yet this was the plan the Saints settled on.
And how'd that work out?
Two days after leaking the trade rumor, the Saints announced that Breaux's "contusion" was in fact a *fracture* requiring surgery. Surgery, mind you, on the SAME FUCKING LEG Breaux had a plate inserted into last year.
... see, uh, so, what had happened here, um, was ...
Next the team fired two of its orthopedists. Plenty of us howled with laughter at the continued fuckery on display in the Saints organization. I mean ...
Other than Drew Brees, if there's one guy on the roster who deserves the benefit of the doubt when it comes to toughness, it is Delvin Breaux who, after a damn-near catastrophic neck injury in high school and a grueling, meandering path back to relevance as a football player, established himself as a legitimate NFL cornerback and pride of the local community.
Do you think, maybe, just fucking maybe, this isn't a guy with a propensity to dog it?
Don't blame the medical staff for a mistake. Blame the Saints' leadership for failing to envision a scenario other than Delvin Breaux half-assing it.
In a post-Bountygate era filled with dumbassery from top to bottom--the Greenbriers, the Stanley Jean Baptistes, the Junior Galettes, the Rob Ryans, the Jairus Byrds, the CJ Spillers, the Brandon Browners and on and on and on like that--this episode delivered more of the same.
It showed just how overwhelmed the Saints' front office is, and one wonders how hopeless this franchise would be without the great Drew Brees.
Ready for the Saints' 2017 season?
I sure as hell am. Just watch what you wish for.