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02/04/2010 10:47 PM
It seemed that Charlie Brown perpetually had a rain cloud following him around. On the Flintstones it was Schleprock. In Lil’ Abner it was Joe Btsfplk. The only difference between them and me over the past week and a half is that my “precipitation” has been freezing rain, or, purple freezing rain. Minnesota’s gut wrenching loss to the New Orleans Saints rendered me catatonic at games end.
I swear that half of my brain has been closed off from reality (insert joke there). My measure of post traumatic stress syndrome is off the charts. I make Hawkeye Pierce look like he never lost his mind in MASH. I still plan to watch the Super Bowl but I will have little picketers in the back of my mind imploring me not to watch. I know I’ll be seeing purple. I mean, Minnesota is playing right? What the hell happened? And don’t go all “Favre was bound to blow it” on me. I ain’t buying that trash. We fumbled more than George W. Bush at a press conference. Couple that with three calls that were perhaps the worst in NFL history-and prove the flaws in instant replay mind you, and you have the latest version of “Eric Berry gets his intestines ripped out-news at eleven”.
Seriously, if I didn’t know better I would think Shoeless Joe Jackson was in on this one. I actually had thought to myself before the game that we just needed to hold on to the ball-no turnovers. I think I jinxed us. For the better part of 35 years I’ve cheered on a team that hasn’t been in the big game since 1977. I was 10. I went to bed crying. I did the same at 42. My Favre jersey still lies on the man cave floor. I looked at it tonight while I was playing Wii with the kids. Immediately I went to a really dark place. I’m thinking of seeing a hypnotist. Maybe he can change me to a Patriots fan-no I don’t want to be someone who forgets where they came from. Or a Giants fan-no I don’t want to be labeled as a horses rear end, a fan who let’s you know where they come from incessantly mind you. You see if you’re a Vikings fan you don’t have a David Tyree. You have a Gary Anderson.
Let me refresh your memory, in 1998 Mr. Anderson never missed a frigging field goal (man I sound disgruntled) all season long. Then, with a trip to the Super Bowl in the balance, he misses a 39 yard chip shot. We lose in overtime. Somehow I got over it then but I feel like now it’s different. Today I had someone implore (well sort of) me to write about it. Masochist.
One time while playing softball I grounded out to the pitcher 7 times in a row. We’re not talking searing grounders flagged down by a highly athletic softball pitcher (oxymoron). We’re talking dribblers. On the seventh one I became outwardly religious as I ran down the first base line. My teammates laughed so hard two of them had hernia operations after the game. But the Vikings loss was different. I watched the game with my two nephews, Chad and Ben, two of my best friends, and one of their girlfriends. There were times during the game when I also became very religious, well not really. I ranted and raved. I mean, this was it. We had outplayed the Aint’s up and down the field. How in the heck were we tied 28-28? How or Why? Cause we are the Vikings.
As most of my readers know I played high school sports for the LI Vikings. When I was in high school we lost in one of the biggest upsets in the history of the St. Johnsbury-LI football game in 1983. In 1985 we were up 7 with just over 3 minutes to go at Barre Auditorium in hoops and lost. It was the only time ever or since has the boy’s basketball program ever been to the Aud. In baseball we lost 3 years in a row by a total of 4 runs in the playoffs. Could it be that the nickname Vikings are cursed? I don’t know.
I need to be relieved from my own personal hell. Back to the Super Bowl this weekend I guess. I’ll watch it. Only to see if my numbers hit in one of the pools I’m in. In the end the Vikings have turned me into a cynic. I’ll root for the Colts, knowing that the Saints will somehow win-and conspiracy theorists will abound. Patriot’s fans will rejoice that Peyton Manning didn’t win and come close to Tom Bundchen for title rings. They’ll be a love fest in New Orleans for Drew “I got outplayed by a 41 year old named Brett” Brees. No one will remember that the Saints were used like rented mules in the NFC Championship and somehow still won. I’ll remember though. I am followed by Purple Freezing Rain clouds forever raining down on me. Question is will it ever thaw out in time for next year?
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