The league made an exception for the New York area, and New York only. But just a few years ago, the NHL experimented with an outdoor game on New Year's Day, and it was such a success that teams now fight to host what's become an annual event.

"We believe the owners have the faith in us that 3 1/2 years from now we'll put on a remarkable event," Giants co-owner Jonathan Tisch said on the NFL Network. "The greatest game in the world will be played on the greatest stage in the world."

For all the hoopla on putting the Super Bowl in the Big Apple, it wasn't a slam-dunk. It took four votes by NFL owners to pick New Jersey over two Florida cities, Miami and Tampa. Miami was eliminated after the second ballot.

If the NFL decides to wait and see how this foray into the great outdoors in winter goes, it could be until about 2019 or 2020 to try again because it takes a year or two to put together a bid for a game that's another four years away.

The slogan for New York's bid is "Make Some History." The first piece likely to be made is a record-low temperature at kickoff. The current record is 39 degrees in 1972 at Tulane Stadium in New Orleans, and that would be considered a warm February day in East Rutherford, N.J.

There's never been snow in a Super Bowl game and that could happen, too.

The average temperature range for the Meadowlands area during February is 24 to 40 degrees, with several inches of rain, according to the bid documents. Remember, the game kicks off after sunset in the Eastern time zone, so temperatures would be dropping throughout the night.

Planners have factored it all in. They're plotting giveaways to warm hands and seats, having hundreds of folks ready to shovel away snow and anything else they can do to make the experience more than just bearable.

For all the inconvenience to those in the stadium, it might look great on TV.

Think of all the shots from the "Ice Bowl" with steam coming out of players' mouths. More recently, there was the snowy game in New England that became known for the "Tuck Rule."

Of course, this game also will have the glitz and spectacle that comes with being just outside New York City -- like having the Manhattan skyline in the distance. There were cheers in Times Square as the decision was announced on jumbo-screen TVs.

"People talk about the weather, but, you know, this is football, not beach volleyball," New York City mayor Michael Bloomberg told the NFL Network. He said his city welcomed the chance to host its share of a worldwide event and noted the Sept. 11 attacks.

"America came to the rescue of New York, and that's something I think that New Yorkers have never forgotten," Bloomberg said. "This is a little bit of our chance to say thank you."

Jets owner Woody Johnson wasted no time in raising the possibility of a Jets-Giants showdown in four years.

"We'll try to be in that Super Bowl together," he said, then turned to Tisch. "Am I right?"

Being in the big city will give the league a chance to try making the big game even bigger, if that's even possible. Buildup will include everything from a float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade to parties at internationally renowned destinations.

The flip side is that security will become a bigger issue, perhaps among the most expensive pieces of the budget. An expected economic impact of $550 million would help offset some of the cost.

Still, it's the weather that makes this decision so significant.

The NFL traditionally has required an average temperature of 50 degrees or a dome for a team to bid on hosting the Super Bowl. The rule was made for the comfort and convenience of fans and players. Anyone who has ever planned an outdoor event can appreciate how much of a relief it is to not worry about the weather. Neutral conditions, like those in a dome, also are supposed to help the caliber of play.

It's been at least 57 degrees for every Super Bowl since 1975, when it was 46. Both that game and the record-low in '72 were in New Orleans, before the Superdome opened.

"Obviously it will be cold, but that's what playing football is all about," Giants quarterback Eli Manning told Fox News Channel's Studio B with Shepard Smith. "I've been in the Super Bowl and I've been to a couple of Super Bowls and if you're not in it, the Super Bowl is an event and its kinda a place to be and there's no better place to be than New York City for that vibe and that atmosphere."

Something else to consider is that hosting a Super Bowl involves a lot more than the game itself. The week before is filled with practices, parties and the league's popular "NFL Experience," a carnival-like event with games, souvenirs and much more.

Florida, California and domed stadiums were part of an informal rotation for many years. With more cities building big, expensive stadiums, more places want their turn to host.

Yet some places with new or newly renovated facilities haven't even had a chance to bid before because of their weather, such as Washington, Philadelphia, Chicago, New England, Seattle, Denver and Green Bay. Surely they will use this precedent to change, or at least loosen, the 50-degree rule for Super Bowl bids.

The upcoming Super Bowl, in February 2011, will be at Cowboys Stadium, followed by Indianapolis' new stadium in 2012 and a 2013 return to the Superdome for the first time since Hurricane Katrina ripped off part of the roof.

For now, a question: Anybody have a 1,300-day forecast?

I will eat half a grapefruit for breakfast. I will get the kids ready for school ... I will make 75 cents for every dollar you make doing the same job. I will assert myself and get called a bitch ... I will put my career on hold to raise your child. I will diet, botox and wax -- everything ... I will elect male politicians who make decisions about my body ... I will watch Super Bowl commercials that depict men as emasculated and oppressed, and I will feel so fucking sorry for you.

Behold:

[Cut to Bourbon Street looking like French Liberation meets "Girls Gone Wild."]

Thing is, just as the experts were touting Manning's clutch credentials, Tracy Porter intercepted the narrative. Peyton pulled a "Casey at the Bat," and gave the victory to what once was a literal Mudville (and is thankfully in a better state these days). Yes, the mighty Peyton has struck out. And no, it doesn't mean a damned thing about him. He's the same great QB who couldn't win "the big one" before he actually won the big one. All that's changed over the the last decade is how we talk about him.

In sports, the longer we get to know a superstar, the more likely we are to elevate his status.  After years of sustained fame, these elite athletes cease to be men and morph into collective history.  The Jackie Robinsons, Michael Jordans and Joe Montanas -- they're all America's gladiators. They fill our need to accomplish that dreams can only conjure. Did Babe Ruth really call his own shot? Who cares, it's fun to imagine blasting a homer after such an audacious move. And we all know this accomplishment couldn't be chalked up to luck: It was indicative of a commune with the divine.

In the weeks leading into the Super Bowl, I heard a lot of chatter about how Peyton was playing the best football of his career, that he was strutting toward G.O.A.T status.  This trope struck me as strange, because Manning's tangible numbers weren't far off from what he'd done nine years ago. Even weirder, experts seemed bizarrely united in predicting a Colts victory. (Even though the Football Prospectus writers cranked out coin flip odds.) What the hell was going on here? 

Blame it on our worship of Manning's prowess. We'd seen greatness long enough to yearn for greater meaning, so much that it just had to be so. Manning needed to possess ethereal qualities that shielded him from luck, errors, drops and refs. Otherwise, what's the point? We're just watching some guy toss a sack o' swine when we could be out hoarding Bud Light and Doritos? Americans deserve better. (No, I don't mean they deserve a Bud Light beer bong constructed from Doritos).

Manning's the same guy he was when he lobbed picks to Ty Law and Rodney Harrison, thus outing him as an unworthy choker. He's the same dude who proved that label wrong when he led the Colts to a rain-soaked Super Bowl victory. Peyton is still spectacular, and I will continue to cherish every drop-back. The frantic Peyton pitter-patter, followed by a laser up-the-seam hurl will continue to fill sports fans with the same sense of awe that Kareem's sky hook did for our fathers in those rugged pre-HD days. Manning never "figured it out," became "clutch" or "choked." These were all false storylines constructed by those who wanted sport reduced to narrative scripture. The true testament to No. 18's greatness was our rush to project supernatural powers on a dumpy-looking pocket passer. Peyton, you hoodwinked us into assuming you'd win this. For that, you are truly great. 

"We spend a couple million dollars on irritable bowel syndrome, and we spend a couple of million dollars on an ad in the Super Bowl Sunday, and we continue the practices that infuriate our citizenry because they're hurting so badly," Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., told Fox News's Greta Van Susteren on Thursday. "They're having to tighten their belts. This is what feeds the tea parties. This is what feeds the anti-incumbency mood that's out there, an out-of-touch Congress and an out-of-touch administration." Smelling budget blood in the political water, other Republicans chimed in, as well. "Given the difficult economic times our nation is facing, I am very concerned with the amount of money spent by the Census Bureau for the production and airing of these commercials," Sen. Johnny Isakson, R-Ga., wrote Census officials last week, demanding a detailed explanation of just how much money the ad would be wasting and whether a similar campaign during the 2000 Census yielded any improvement in response rates.

As it happens, the Census Bureau had all that information ready to go by kickoff. "Facing a three-decade decline in the national mail response rates 10 years ago in the 2000 Census, the Census Bureau launched its first ever paid advertising campaign to increase public awareness levels about the once-a-decade and Constitutionally mandated population count," Census officials said in a press release Sunday. "The end result was a 2000 Census that turned around the three-decade decline in response rates and exceeded the 1990 Census mail response rate of 65 percent... Because of the higher response rate the Census Bureau saved at least $305 million and returned that money to Congress following the census. The advertising campaign in the 2000 Census cost about $100 million, a $205 million return on investment."

In case anyone didn't get that message during the game, the Census also posted some math on its Twitter feed in the middle of the second half. "If 1% of folks watching #SB44 change mind and mail back #2010Census form, taxpayers save $25 million in follow up costs," officials wrote. That would be a 10-fold return on the $2.5 million the ad cost -- which, even using Republican arithmetic, is a pretty good government savings.

Watch the ad here:

As a brass band played "When the Saints Go Marching In" inside Irvin Mayfield's Jazz Playhouse, revelers jumped up and down, stood on chairs and tables and waved black and gold umbrellas when the Saints won.

"This is so awesome," said Darlene Milliet, as she hugged her sister, Cindy Lasiter, both of them crying in the French Quarter. "I can't believe it!"

"It's like a dream come true. It's just a dream come true," said Lasiter.

Vince Scanil, a Tampa Bay Buccaneers fan in town for an anniversary weekend with his wife, said he remembered how special it was when his team won their first Super Bowl, but it seemed extra special for New Orleans, a city that suffered so much after Hurricane Katrina.

"Our hearts pour out for them. What a great city to win it," he said as plastic beads swung from his neck and he watched revelers. "It's a heartwarming thing, the Saints."

Trina Pearley-Brown was raised by her mother to be a Saints fan, and she was carrying on the legacy even though her mother died before Katrina.

"You can't describe it. It's so awesome. We've been waiting for this for years," said 47-year-old from Gramercy, La. "It's means so much to the city. They're back. They're alive."

It was a similar scene along a row of neighborhood bars and restaurants on Maple Street, not far from Tulane and Loyola universities, where college students and area residents, most clad in black and gold, hit the street screaming and cheering. Fireworks resounded and flares lit up the sky.

"House of the Rising Sun" blared from speakers at Bruno's Tavern, where patrons sprayed each other with champagne and beer.

The victory capped a weekend of Saints-centered celebration along Carnival parade routes. The spirit bled into the political arena. The city had elected a new mayor Saturday, Mitch Landrieu, and supporters prefaced his victory speech by chanting "Who Dat Say Dey Gonna Beat Dem Saints."

The celebrations began hours before the game, as dogs dressed in Saints jerseys and gaudy floats carrying masked riders provided a rolling pre-game tailgate party for thousands as New Orleans started partying long before the Super Bowl kicked off.

David Frazier and Daphne Naro, of the San Francisco area, were among the parade goers along Canal Street at the edge of the French Quarter. The game brought them back to New Orleans, Frazier's home town.

"The Saints in the Super Bowl, man. That's a once-in-forever thing," Frazier said.

In the French Quarter, the afternoon celebrations began with the procession of the "Krewe of Barkus," a mini-parade for dogs. Dogs sporting black and gold feathers, beads, sequins and Saints jerseys marched with their owners through the Quarter.

One yellow labrador retriever walked the parade route past St. Louis Cathedral dressed like Saints tight end Jeremy Shockey, complete with stringy blond wig and fake tattoos running down his legs below the No. 88 jersey.

"He has a laid-back surfer personality, like Shockey," said Stas Zhuk, gesturing to 2-year-old Diego being walked by his wife. "He's friendly to everyone."

They moved to New Orleans six months ago, "so we became intense rabid fans in a short amount of time," Zhuk said.