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And sometimes, that story was a comic tragedy. In light of that, Diliberto once made a famous vow on the air: “If the Saints ever make it to the Super Bowl, I’m going to wear a dress and dance through the streets.” He made this promise secure in the knowledge that he would never have to make good on it. (He did, however, comfort younger callers and listeners, telling them: “You’ve got time. You might see a Super Bowl.”) Buddy D died on January 7, 2005 of a heart attack. Hebert was WWL’s first choice to inherit Diliberto’s show. Maybe it was the voice, he joked. “Buddy had his own speech issues and can’t say certain words, and then they get Hebert, a Cajun, and I had a thicker accent than him!” Before his unexpected death, Buddy D played a big role in bringing Hebert to WWL. “I was doing some radio in Atlanta, things like shows on the Falcons draft, and Falcons pregame and postgame shows, and Buddy called me up,” Hebert recalls. “He and WWL had me come to do the Saints draft show in 2004. I thought that was a one-time thing, and then as Buddy got older, he wanted some help for a lot of shows as a duo instead of him by himself.” Hebert agreed to do that for the 2005 season, but then Diliberto died, and WWL asked the Saints’ former star quarterback to take the job officially. “Buddy had taught us how it was done,” Hebert says. “You have to feel like you are a mouthpiece for the fans. That’s how Buddy did it, and that’s the approach I take day in and day out. You have to separate yourself from the team, and be on the common man’s side.” Five years after the city lost Diliberto, the New Orleans Saints beat the Minnesota Vikings in overtime to clinch the NFC Champi onship, securing their place in Super Bowl XLIV. One week before the final matchup against the Colts, Saints fans, led by Hebert, made good on Buddy D’s promise. Hebert and the crowd wore dresses and paraded from the Superdome to the French Quarter. “We got in a little bit of trouble with the city,” Hebert says, “because we got a last minute permit. We thought there would be a few thousand people, maybe.” Instead, he says, 80,000 people showed up: a crowd of men in dresses stretching from the Dome to Oceana Grill on Bourbon St. at Conti. There was barely room to stand, let alone move, and it took five hours to get from start to finish.

Thomas “Tuna” Seither, the artist, is celebrating Buddy “D” Diliberto, a New Orleans sportscaster, through a painting that depicts Buddy D. in his office at WWL Radio studios, surrounded by items from his long history as a sportscaster.

from my own experiences.” New Orleans is a city of the world. I travel extensively for my job, and not once in all these years, when asked, have I said that I live in New Orleans and the person’s eyes not lit up. “Really?” they invariably say, as though I lived in Oz or on the international space station. New Orleanians know the day-to-day headaches of life here — every city has them (though probably with better roads). What we offer to the world, though, is something no one else can: a distinct and beautiful culture of art, spirit and cuisine, forged across a sometimes painful and ugly history, but one that is recognized the world over as the best humanity has to offer. Buddy

“It was so cold that day,” he remembers. “We were feeling so good. It could have been in the teens and I don’t think we would have felt the pain. And they were all there for Buddy. The fans demanded we do that parade for him, and they turned up. It was such a great day, but man, the next morning was hard.” As for his radio show, Hebert still recog nizes that he’s filling big shoes of perhaps the best-loved football commentator the city ever saw. “I didn’t go to school for journalism, but I have the gift of gab,” Hebert says. “You just go with the ebb and flow, and you have to respect the fans and callers. They know their football. And Buddy D understood that.” He continues, “And

D was a product and emissary of this city. He was born of it, he added to it, and he shared it with all the world. He gave voice to the voiceless and laughter to downtrodden sports fans — those at home, and those trapped in the Superdome parking lot. But to get his message across, sometimes it required that he do so wearing a paper bag on his head.

like Buddy, I bring my own special experiences to the show. Someone can give their opinion, and I will respect it, but I will also disagree and tell them, ‘No, you don’t understand. It’s not like that on the field.’ Buddy D could educate fans from a perspective of 50 years covering sports. When they were wrong, he’d call them a squirrel. And I can educate them

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