If you follow me on Twitter, you know that amid the journalism talk and politics chatter lives a very scarred Vikings fan. I am capable of experiencing joy — there were loud high fives in our household when Arizona’s Karlos Dansby scored that overtime touchdown against the Packers, and when Sidney Rice blistered the Cowboys for his first touchdown Sunday. It’s just that, well, when you’ve witnessed four Super Bowl losses and four straight NFC Championship game defeats (1978, 1988, 1999 and 2001), you’re always looking around for falling pianos.
Thankfully, I married an optimist (whose psychology wasn’t hurt by growing up a Niners fan in the ’80s) who gave birth to an optimist. Yesterday, an old Twin Cities Reader colleague, New Orleans Times-Picayune restaurant writer Brett Anderson, was in town to take local fans’ temperature. It was an astute assignment; in addition to being a two-time James Beard Award-winning writer, Brett grew up a Vikings fan, not a huge shock since he’s the son of ex-Minnesota governor and noted sports nut Wendy Anderson.
Anyway, Brett and I renewed old acquaintances over lunch, and the tale of a bubbly boy and his black-cloud dad made its way into this story. By the way, my son is predicting a Minnesota win this week. Skol, Vikings, let’s go!