NEW ORLEANS — There’s no way that Drew Brees pictured this—certainly not this—as The End. The divisional playoff game at home, the site of so many of his greatest triumphs; the stands all but empty; the streets outside the Superdome silent save for the occasional junker coughing exhaust fumes while rolling by. The NFC championship game so close. The second-half lead. The dream alive.
Then, the fall. Another one. The three interceptions against Tampa Bay. The 38.1 QB rating. The third-straight playoff loss at home. The fourth-straight postseason heartbreaker. As Brees trudged off the field—perhaps straight into a broadcast booth—the lucky-turned-unlucky fans who assembled in the lower bowl could almost hear the universe playing Sad Trombone on an endless loop.