You probably remember the pain, the feeling of deja voodoo.

You probably remember a sense of disbelief, as the Vikings and Brett Favre blew another epic game.

If you can forgive the Vikings their sins of that day -- the 12th man in the huddle, the five turnovers, that fateful Favre pass -- what you should remember is this:

The Vikings' 31-28 loss to the Saints in the NFC Championship Game stands as the latest, best demonstration of why football is king in America.

Baseball is a beautiful and comforting game. Basketball showcases the world's most spectacular athletes. Football reaches into our guts, reaches into the most evolved and most prehistoric portions of our brain, combining all of the elements of our greatest dramas, from violence to pathos to unpredictability to intricately interwoven plots.

What happened in the Superdome on Jan. 24 was Shakespearean. Not Shakespearean in the popular use of the word, meaning "effete" or "intellectual." Shakespeare became popular by writing plays filled with blood and revenge, lust and greed.

And tragedy.

Shakespeare would have loved Favre.

If you can get over the pain, you will remember the NFC Championship Game as one of the greatest dramas in franchise history.

It began with the Saints' unofficial theme song, "Halftime (Get Up And Crunk)," playing before the opening kickoff. The song is categorized as hip-hop, but it sounds like a mixture of high school marching band, Mardi Gras and foreboding, and as it played in the already-raucous dome, the overflow crowd, dressed almost exclusively in black, began swaying as if one.

Even the players on the Saints' bench began dancing. The Saints never before had played a conference championship game in New Orleans, and the game was presented as one last chance to help New Orleanians forget Hurricane Katrina and celebrate the ongoing rebuilding of our country's most atmospheric city.

Even Favre's friends from nearby Kiln, Miss., had trouble choosing loyalties. They wanted Favre to win, but they recognized that his place in history was secure, and that the Saints may never come this close to a Super Bowl again.

The Vikings took the ball at their own 20 to start the game, and Favre, despite the incredible din, drove them 80 yards in 10 plays, with Adrian Peterson running in from 19 yards out, and the place became eerily quiet, as if one of Anne Rice's creations had cast a spell.

Thus began the epic. Favre would pass for 310 yards and a touchdown in the building where he earned his only Super Bowl title. Drew Brees, considered the symbolic and charitable symbol of the city's rebirth, would counter Favre with three touchdown passes.

Because he is Favre and they are the Vikings, though, the game would be determined by their foibles, not the Saints' strengths.

The Vikings would outgain the Saints, a remarkable 475 yards to 257. They would lose only because of two interceptions and three lost fumbles, including a botched exchange between Favre and Peterson at the Saints' 4-yard line before halftime and Bernard Berrian's fumble in the fourth quarter at the Saints' 5-yard line.

The Vikings at once proved they were good enough to win the Super Bowl and cursed enough to fail to qualify for the Super Bowl.

The Vikings moved close to field goal range in the final moments of the game, and the story begged to be written: Favre would set the stage for his best friend on the team, former Packers teammate Ryan Longwell. Longwell would win the game at the gun, and Favre and Longwell would run off the field arm-in-arm.

Then the Vikings were penalized for a rare 12-men-in-the-huddle violation. Favre, battered by the Saints all game, tried to make up the lost yardage, balked at running on his injured ankle, and threw the worst interception of his season before limping off the field.

Wrenching? Yes. But great dramas do not promise happy endings. More often, great dramas make you hurt.

Jim Souhan can be heard at 10-noon Sunday on 1500ESPN. His Twitter name is SouhanStrib. • jsouhan@startribune.com