And it became clear that the Saints were going to win. Score one for the good guys, at least in my book. For one night, Vegas and a bunch of idiot Colts fans had turned me into a hardcore Saints fan. And after experiencing the valleys in the first half, the peak felt better than ever. Pausing every few minutes to count the stack of hundred dollar bills I'd just won, I spent the rest of the night on air, bouncing around while people played "Saints Come Marching In" on the piano over and over again, the whole casino cheered the Saints, and of course, chanting their trademark.