Chad Smith

ABOARD AIRTRAN FLIGHT 450 — I’m 30,000 (or something) feet in the air, somewhere between Atlanta and New Orleans, getting more nervous by the minute about the impending game Saturday night at Death Valley.

I just read an article in The New York Times (print edition, duh) about Tim Tebow’s concussion. Before that I read a column by ESPN’s Pat Forde on the (gray) matter (I stole Forde’s pun). Earlier, in the Atlanta airport, a CNN anchor mentioned Tebow, and it gave me pause. I doubt we’ll know whether he’ll play until 8 p.m., when the ball is kicked off at Tiger Stadium, but I had myself convinced that he would. As the game nears and the speculation intensifies, doubts are creeping in.

OK. The plane is beginning its descent into the Crescent City. The last time I arrived here for a football game was late December 1996. A few days later, Florida avenged its loss to hated in-state rival Florida State to win the Sugar Bowl — and its first national championship.

Good sign? In the airspace over a state rife with voodoo, I’ll take it as such.