Taking the city by storm

By Michael Smith, Globe Staff, 2/5/2002

EW ORLEANS - An evening of celebration among men who had just become the best on earth at administrating, coaching, and playing a child's game began with a 260-pound man-child reacting like a jubilant tyke.

Super Bowl XXXVI was played on artificial turf, in an indoor stadium, in a city that doesn't know snow, but that mattered not to 24-(and going on 12)-year-old Lonie Paxton. Just as Adam Vinatieri knew the instant his right foot made contact with the football that his climactic 48-yard kick would be true, so, too, did Paxton.

Almost immediately after whipping back a perfect snap, Paxton raced past a couple of shocked Rams, apparently in hopes of following Vinatieri's kick through the uprights. Upon realizing that he could not fly with the ball into history, Paxton instinctively resorted to his now-trademark victory celebration: flopping on his back in the end zone and making angels in imaginary snow, a repeat of his oft-replayed reaction to Vinatieri's winning 23-yarder in a snowstorm at Foxboro Stadium Jan. 19. Finally, a long snapper has an identity.

While the rest of the world watched and waited for the striped pair beneath the goal posts to signify the field goal's success and the 20-17 victory, Vinatieri and holder Ken Walter already were leaping and hugging and screaming and making their way toward the joyous Patriots sideline, where more men were leaping and hugging and screaming like young boys who had just opened the Christmas gift they always wanted.

In the owner's suite, Patriots patriarch Robert Kraft clutched his wife's hand and placed it near his heart, trying desperately to prevent it from beating through his shirt. When the kick split the pipes, Super Bowl MVP Tom Brady turned to mentor Drew Bledsoe and pounded his chest.

Off went the fireworks. Down came the tears. And the confetti.

Red, white, and blue confetti.

It was to celebrate the conclusion to a patriotic Super Bowl, the official colors of which were, appropriately enough, red, white, and blue.

Destiny? Put it this way: It would not have been as beautiful a sight had the blue and gold Rams been the ones being showered with the symbolic strips of paper. It would not have done as much good for the soul to see someone other than the Andruzzi brothers, now American heroes in their own right, hugging one another on the field where their brother, Patriots guard Joe Andruzzi, had just become one of the kings of the world.

Football fathers such as Roman Phifer, David Patten, Otis Smith, and Troy Brown shared the moment with their sons and daughters; other players were joined by their proud parents, siblings, spouses, and friends. The loquacious Bryan Cox was even at a loss for words when asked to describe his first championship in an 11-year career. Willie McGinest cried the way Bledsoe had a week earlier.

There were hugs, kisses, and handshakes all around. Hairstyles, most notably Bill Belichick's, were ruined. A Love Movement was in effect.

The traditional season-finale tune, Queen's ''We Are The Champions,'' blared in the background. A mix CD featuring Maze's ''We Are One'' or Mary J. Blige's ''Family Affair'' would have been nice. Oh, and Nelly's ''No. 1'' wouldn't have been a bad choice, either.

When commissioner Paul Tagliabue presented the team with the Vince Lombardi Trophy for the franchise's first title in 42 years of existence, all of the Patriots placed a hand on it. And rightfully so, because all of them had a hand in their overcoming 45-1 preseason odds to win it.

It took many of the players nearly an hour to make it into the Superdome locker room. On their way, Patriots fans seated in the section above showered them with cheers and thanks. Inside, the pats on the backs continued. Players such as Bobby Hamilton repeated the team's popular refrain as he entered: ''Nobody thought we could do it!'' Reporters did as much congratulating as interviewing.

There would be plenty more of that. The party was just getting started.

This is the Big Easy, so there were plenty of other things to do following one of the most exciting championship games in history. The French Quarter was abuzz. NFL players were hosting a party at the Radisson Hotel on Canal Street. There was another players party at a place called the Red Room on St. Charles Avenue.

But the place to be, the hot spot, was the mezzanine level of the Fairmont Hotel, where the Patriots held their postgame gala.

There, Patriots players, coaches, executives, their families and friends, and privileged fans partied 42 years worth. Bands played funky music in two ballrooms. The dance floors were packed. Everyone ate, drank, and was merry. And everyone was VIP.

Each Patriot acted as if he were host, because each was the guest of honor. But the center of attention was, of course, Brady. He probably shook more hands Sunday night (and early Monday morning) than most people do in a lifetime. He granted several requests to have pictures taken with him. He smiled for video cameras. He signed autographs. Somewhere in the midst of it all he said hello to his folks. He'll remember what happened sometime next week.

Many of those present at this swingin' soiree took home backup for their overloaded mental hard drives. As many flashes went off during the party as did during the kickoff. Everyone seemed to have a hand-held camcorder.

Remember we said the Patriots' party was the spot? A couple of celebs obviously thought so, as well. Ol' pal Charles Woodson was gracious enough to show, no doubt in support of fellow Michigan alums Brady and Ty Law. He's certainly entitled to some sort of consolation.

And did we mention comedian Cedric the Entertainer was the guest host at the Radisson? He's funny, but he'd be hard-pressed to tell a joke that could incite the kind of laughter one got from watching Brady chat with Snoop Dogg, a fellow Californian. Snoop was probably giving Brady tips on how to style in his new Cadillac Escalade XLT, the gift that came with the MVP award.

Downstairs in the hotel lobby, where it was much quieter but no less lively, Belichick, wearing a crisp new 2001-02 World Champions cap, was reliving the night's drama with a handful of close friends. Like his players, he signed many an autograph throughout the evening. Without warning, admiring fans snapped photos. Some even interrupted his conversations to tell him how proud they were of him and his team.

One interruption Belichick didn't mind was one by former NFL coach and pioneering defensive coordinator Buddy Ryan. Ryan, father of Patriots outside linebackers coach Rob Ryan, stopped over to extend his congratulations. Belichick never smiled so big.

But he and his band of merry men weren't happy about the early flight back to Boston that awaited them after a late night. Belichick and Brady had an 8:30 press conference, and to their credit - and the amazement of those who were up partying with them - they made it through. Adrenaline is something.

Brady, whose session with the media was as much comedy as commentary, made no secret of his unhappiness at the sound of his alarm clock at 6 a.m. But for the MVP, and for his groggy teammates, the buzz was unlike the ones the rest of us hear each morning.

With that sound, our dreams usually end. The Patriots' dream continued.