I started a column that appeared in this space on Dec. 15, 2008, that included the transcript of a text message sent to my mother. “Year after year,” I wrote her, “they are just good enough to break your heart. It hurts to be a Saints fan.”

At the time she texted back “It will happen. Hang in there.”

I, and the rest of the Saints nation, only had to wait one more season. As always, mother knows best. The New Orleans Saints are the best football team in the land. It’s time to celebrate.

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The stories of shared emotions will link fans across the Gulf Coast for the rest of our lives.

Following the game Sunday night on the way to the office to type this column, there was an SUV behind my truck that featured a passenger waving a Saints flag. We all came to a stop at a red light, and the entire intersection erupted in cheers and honks at the sight of the Saints flag. We didn’t know each other, but we were united under one flag.

My father-in-law called me and screamed into the phone “What do you think of that son-in-law?” I told him it was hard to believe. I’ll always remember watching the first Saints playoff game this year as just him and I saw the Saints defeat the Arizona Cardinals while our wives were out shopping.

My dad called next. He was hosting a Super Bowl party in Covington. He had to step outside to talk. He told me congratulations. I thanked him for taking me to the NFC Championship game last month so that he and I could see the Saints off in style. We were there in the Superdome together for the first championship victory in team history.

Finally, I called my mom. She was at Tulane Stadium more than 40 years ago when this franchise played its first game. She stuck with them through thick and thin and brought me up to love the Saints above all others.

When my call finally went through to her 504 phone number, it was my step-dad who answered.

“Where’s mom?” I asked.

“She’s outside waving her Saints flag to the cars passing by,” he answered.

Just like a true diehard, her first thought after the final seconds ticked off the game clock was to grab a jacket and share the moment with the masses.

When she got to the phone, I could hear that her voice was hoarse. I could also here strangers passing by in the street honking horns and yelling for the Saints as they passed by my 56-year-old mother on the side of Metairie’s busy Transcontinental Drive with a Saints flag in her arms and a smile on her face.

The Saints won. She won.

I’ve pulled for this team for as long as I can remember, but it’s the memories this victory has allowed me to share with both perfect strangers and close family that makes it truly special.

We won.

Who dat? Who dat? Who dat says they going to beat dem Saints?

STEPHEN HEMELT is associate managing editor of The Daily Iberian. He can be reached at stephen.hemelt@daily-iberian.com.