No matter what happened last Sunday, the outcome was that the Minnesota Vikings would either win their conference and get a bye in the first round of the playoffs or lose and end up playing a team with a lesser record.
I took comfort in knowing that before this column reaches the millions of “Purple” supporters. As this column was written early, either way, the team lived to play another game.
My pro football dream started back when the much vaunted “Purple People Eaters” defense was in place in 1970, when they played their first Super Bowl game.
They played a lowly expansion team, the Kansas City Chiefs, and were favored by 12 points.
There was little doubt in my small mind that this would be a shellacking by the Vikings. I pictured Kansas City quarterback Lenny Dawson lying flat on his back throughout the game while the likes of Carl Eller, Alan Page, Jim Marshall and Gary Larsen ran amok through KC’s offensive line.
There was no way any receiver would catch a pass with the likes of Wally Hilgenberg, Paul Krause and Karl Kussulke patrolling the backfield. Their motto that year was “Meet me at the quarterback!” A powerful statement!
The Vikings offense was also justly feared with the likes of Bill “Boom Boom” Brown; Cando, North Dakota’s, favorite son, Dave Osborn; and Oscar Reed running through defensive lines with ease, and Gene Washington and John Henderson catching touchdown passes far downfield tossed to them by QBs Gary Cuozzo and Bob Lee.
In my mind, the scoreboard might not be able to register a high enough number to account for the Vikings’ scores. Good things were going to happen.
We were milking 40 Holsteins at the time and my dad had even given me permission to squat down in front of our TV set to watch this onslaught that I knew was coming.
He evidently felt that I would be in a good mood in the milk barn after winning the game.
No one else in the family was much interested in the outcome, which meant I had the whole living room to myself at the kickoff.
Freddy “The Foot” Cox booted the opening football into the end zone. What I didn’t anticipate at the time was the fact that Freddie’s boot was probably the highlight of the entire game for the Vikes.
By the time the first quarter ended, Lenny Dawson was cutting through the vaunted defense like a knife through melted butter. I lay there in front of the TV set awaiting some form of energy for the “Purple.”
Dawson sat in the pocket and there was no “meeting at the quarterback.” He threw and completed passes at will to just about every receiver he had on the field.
Jan Stenerud got a cramp from kicking field goals like rain and there was no stopping the KC running attack by the “Purple People Eaters.” Even though they held KC to early field goals, the Vikes didn’t score until the third quarter and that was it, 23-7.
No wonder Bud Grant never smiled again, except in the duck blind.
With my hopes of Super Bowl glory dashed, I stumbled out to the milk barn and with a bad attitude. I think the cows and my dad noticed. It was a quiet night in the barn.
I don’t think I’ve ever really recovered from that first Super Bowl loss. I’ve become cynical of any sportscaster’s forecast of a Super Bowl win for the Vikes.
Of course, you could say I harbored that same thought about the Twins until they finally climbed the mountain and won the World Series in 1987.
It’s a big huddle for me to actually believe the Vikings might win this thing and bring the trophy home. But, I’m going to try to be kind of optimistic this year.
The team actually has a legit chance of winning the big one, but deep in the cellar of my memory vault I still see that so-called weak Kansas City team dancing and celebrating after that first Vikings Super Bowl loss.
It still hurts.
Skol Vikes! You and I both deserve a win before I keel over.
See you next time. Okay?