Attention! Attention! EJ ... please turn in your jersey sporting the number 56. That jersey will be returned with a big letter "S" on it, with a red cape. I've heard of players flying to the tackle but I've never seen a mere mortal defying gravity. Check that dude for jet packs. It's time to hang it up and change your career plans to pursuing the criminal element. If I were Robin, and I witness last Sunday's performance, I'd say ... "Holy Crap Batman! Incredible!!!"
Offensive Prowess! Hats off to Slingin' it! We are coming out gunning it ... and there nothing that you are going to do to stop it! Sputter ... sputter ... klink ... klink. Over time, things have a way of working themselves out and apparently it did. Hat's off to the coaches ... they finally got a set. You cannot gain without risk. Oh yeah ... by the way ... we all saw the offense sucking some big wind at the end of that drive that resulted in our final field goal. With Gus and company ... you better get used to it. Having a well rested defense ... in other words, not drained ... will peg us at number 1 in short order. Yeah! You guys were tired ... but the job you guys did was a wonder to watch. Your work, in the trenches, does not go unseen.
Disturbing! There an old saying. You don't throw the baby out with the bath water. Somehow it comes across the wire (implied) that T-Jack has no future in Minnesota ... unfortunately, no one believes this crap. That was hurtful! Maybe it was just a medias twisted slant. If this thought is on Chili's mind then he need a lobotomy. As Hoffa once said ... you can never slight a man ... and if you do, it's implied that you make good on the situation. We can ill afford another Rich Gannon, where we go through the painful teething, where he leaves the Vikings and has a successful career elsewhere. Gus has the stuff, but he's also up there (37) ... where he could be in the fragile class. Defenses are certainly going to test this theory, where T-Jack may find himself back on that field sooner than anyone expects. It's much more probable that Gus hits, or gets slowed by, some sort of wall. Stuff happens. Benching T-Jack may be a blessing, although I'm certain that he doesn't see it that way. Benching Daunte got him to a pro-bowl. Man did he need it. For one, it gives T-Jack time to fully heal. It also gives him a chance to collect his thoughts ... maybe to look inward. For another, things happen for a reason. He's still not seeing himself as the reason those balls are being dropped. Gus didn't toss a strike ... he floated a ball that found it's mark. Age and treachery will defeat youth and skill every time. A little loft and maybe we get that 2-pointer. Not to worry ... touch passes will come in time. Get on it! It's not ... I threw a strike and he dropped it, but rather in Brett Farve's words ... 'I hope I play well enough so that our team can win the game.' Brett's would say, "He made a great catch", or he knew it was his fault that the ball was dropped. It's not a direct comparison ... it's the distinction of thought. Bill Walsh once said ... "That's great Joe (Montana - nice throw) ... but now, can you make that throw into a catch-able ball." That is the distinction of detail which is the difference between players and hall of famers.
A Wish! People ... something's happening here. If I had a wish, my wish would be to be that fly on the wall during this weeks Viking film sessions. I'd then get to collect a nickel for every oooh, that is blurted out, while watching the Viking highlights from this weeks films until the end of the season. Could it be .... the slobber knocking swagger has returned on Viking winds. The world looks a whole lot different when your looking threw your ear hole ... doesn't it? Maybe we'd even get to wear our laser eye cutting purple chino's (Zig that means slacks) for the Titan's this weekend ... just to let them know something's different here. The guard is changing!
Jottings and Thoughts: Hell is ... being completely surrounded by the base of Giants, Jets, Redskins, Eagles, Ravens and Steelers. I walk into a fast food restaurant, when a woman behind the counter said, "Minnesota Vikings ... I love those colors!" "So bright and vibrant!" I asked, are you a Viking fan ... she didn't have a clue what I was talking about. I was then reminded of my past ... as I told her ... it wasn't always those colors, as I explained.
Of course, this reminded me of my tender years ... when I didn't know that the Vikings wore purple. Back in the day of turning that knob to change our 3-stations, the colors were black and white and to me, that Viking helmet was the color dark blue. In fact my first real contact helmet was 100% white. My friend helped me to spray paint it dark blue with Viking horn white using whatever tape I could get my hands on ... later the yellow crown was added ... hand painted. About a year later, my friend, having one of the first color TV's in the neighborhood pointed out the fact that the Viking helmet was purple ... not dark blue ... but friends understand there are things not to push or pursue. I carried Viking pride under that helmet and I was never afraid to back that up.
Back in the day, there were no child's seats where I remember being placed between my parents in the front seat of the old station wagon. I remember my father laughing and lamenting because his son, of the tender age of 4, wanted to do only one thing. Whenever we were in the near proximity of any vehicle at all ... I would scream out, "Crash it daddy! Crash it!" So in fact ... the entire trip was filled with ... Crash it Daddy's! There's not much that you can do to explain to a four year old that's sole objective in life was to bash his Tonka's, or his daddy's electric train set for that matter, into submission. Is it any wonder how or why I became a Viking fan.
It seems like it was only yesterday. A Joe Kapp forward pass looked something like a wounded duck after being severely winged by a shot gun blast. What captured me indelibly and forever into the Viking fold was what followed that pass. Be it Kapp surrendering his body over the line of scrimmage ... laying wood for yards or just good old smash mouth physical football on a frozen field of grass with flame throwers a sizzling. I ate and drank defense as if it was scripture ... they get to hit people ... over and over again. Sweat dreams foolish one!
Saddened - but wise to what's really going down: I was quite saddened to hear of Wally Hilgenburg's condition as it was announced just a few short months ago ... such a monument in my mind ... to know that this structure of fortitude would be compromised in time ... but not in my mind. Now he has been taken from us. We are left with only one utterance ... thank you. Thank you for your sacrifice. You will always be apart of us ... tens of thousands ... and we shall carry your memory until it is time for each of us to shake our own mortal coils. You were the consummate Viking. I'd like to think he's now carrying on for us all ... a rookie once again ... in his hounding and head hunting way ... it's just a bit different now. We see you patiently waiting your turn in line for that long awaited meeting with the big, "I am, who am". I can almost here your words ... Something about 4 times and no love ... I can also almost hear that response ... "I know, I know Wally ... their time is upon us ... it beckons! Now will you finally leave me alone!" Nope! That's not my style big guy ... that's not 40 for 60 ... there's still some unfinished business.
The Viking Ghost