It was not the reaction I was expecting as the players danced and the confetti flew.

It made me want to cry.

But as I stood there, in soak-it-in-mode, watching the Cardinals celebrate the mother of all unexpected moments, that was the sensation.

I could feel tears in my eye sockets.  It was weird, bizarre, surreal.  But then consider the moment; the Cardinals just earned a spot in the Super Bowl.  How much more weird, bizarre and surreal can you get?

Come to find out I wasn’t the only one.  As part of our marathon coverage on Sports 620 KTAR last night, Mark Asher called in to say he felt the same thing and that dozens of guys in his section were openly bawling.

An Arizona native, born and raised, I flushed all my old allegiances (the Seahawks….don’t ask) the day the Cardinals moved here.  And since that day it has been nothing…..but pain, and suffering, and humiliation, and torment.

From 1988 through 2007 the Arizona Cardinals averaged 5.7 wins per season.  Frankly I’m surprised the number was that high.

Last night a caller tried to compare this moment to the 2001 D-backs/Yankees World Series.  Nice try, but no.  The D-backs were in the playoffs by their second year and won a world championship in the fourth.  That’s not suffering, that’s a championship in a drive-thru.  (I’ll have the number four, please super-size the trophy, thanks).  It was magical but it also set the bar at a level where D-back fans quickly became spoiled, thinking it was going to be like that all the time.

This is different.  Spoiled is a word that will never, ever be used to describe a Cardinal fan.

After the near-tear experience, the rest of the day played out like an episode of “Lost”.

There was Bill Bidwill holding the NFC trophy.  I flashed back to the day he strode into the Cardinals media workroom and calmly announced that Buddy Ryan had been fired and the search for a new coach would begin immediately.  A franchise adrift.

There was Ken Whisenhunt.  I flashed back to the day he was hired and the hope I felt that maybe-just-maybe the Cardinals finally got it right by hiring a legit, hungry coach (and I could hear Red from The Shawshank Redemption in my head, warning me that “hope is a dangerous thing”).  There can’t be enough written or said about what coach Whisenhunt has meant to this organization.

I saw Adrian Wilson cry like a school girl during his postgame interview.  I flashed back to the day he signed his contract extension, truly believing the Cardinals were on their way to legitimacy.  His forced fumble of Donovan McNabb should’ve ended the game yesterday but the Cards couldn’t turn the miscue into points.

When Larry Fitzgerald walked into the interview room, I went back to the days after Whisenhunt’s hire and questions persisted about Fitzgerald’s ability to play for somebody other than the coach who drafted him, Dennis Green.  I think I actually chuckled out loud.  He was unstoppable…again.

Kurt Warner walked in the room, clutching his Bible, thanking Jesus, crying when talking about his wife Brenda.  I flashed back to the week I spent at training camp this past summer.  Watching him on the practice field, I just knew he was the guy and I wondered if Whisenhunt would have the guts to start the 37-year-old over Matt Leinart.

Then I flashed forward, and saw Warner at the podium in Canton Ohio, wearing a yellow blazer, clutching his Bible, thanking Jesus and crying when talking about his wife Brenda.  Can you tell the story of the NFL without including Kurt Warner?  The man belongs.  Especially after leading that clutch drive in the fourth quarter.

I walked on the field after the crowds had left, kicking the confetti with my feet.  I actually thought about saving some as a memento.  I flashed back to those days at Sun Devil Stadium, when the seats were empty for real (someone once compared the upper deck of Sun Devil Stadium to the banks of a NASCAR race track, empty and grey).  I thought of the Bidwill’s, who had said all along, give us an NFL stadium and we’ll give you and NFL team.  They kept their promise.

Finally, after hosting a four hour postgame show, I thought about the fans and a day that I’m sure many thought would never come.

And I flashed forward to a funeral service.  On the tombstone it read “Same Old Cardinals, 1988-2007, Rest in Peace”