Jumping around the house, whooping like a banshee

The casual observer might have looked at the conclusion of SAN FRANCISCO'S 36-32 NFL PLAYOFF triumph over NEW ORLEANS with mild to moderate interest at the spectacle.
Me, I jumped around the house and whooped like a banshee.
Much-maligned quarterback ALEX SMITH set a roller coaster into motion when he raced down the sidelines for a 28-yard touchdown run with 2:11 remaining.
Drew Brees of the Saints was never going to go quietly, although his 66-yard scoring pass to Jimmy Graham with 1:37 left quieted both the CANDLESTICK PARK crowd and my house.
I adore the 49ers -- they and the SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS are the two teams I grew up cheering, through thick (five Super Bowl titles) and thin (recent drab, losing seasons).
When the 49ers returned to the field, I sat quietly watching, hoping Smith could at least engineer a drive to get the team into field goal range.
Smith did more than that. Finally seeming to come into his own as an NFL player, he passed to tight end VERNON DAVIS for a 47-yard gain, then two plays later found Davis at the goal line for a 14-yard scoring strike with 9 seconds left.
I erupted like a microcosm of the pandemonium sweeping through the stadium.
The buzz lingered for hours.
Sports can do that sort of thing to a person. I think that's why we need sports.