I have been a Minnesota Vikings fan since I was 10 years-old. I saw Tommy Kramer make a game-winning Hail-Mary pass to Ahmad Rashad against the Cleveland Browns, and from that point forward I have learned to live with the major disappointment and depression that goes hand-in-hand with being a Viking fan. In fact, I partially blame the lack of professional success that I have found in my life on the misery the Vikings have caused me.
How can a person find success when they are associated with a bunch of losers like the Vikings. I mean, even with outstanding players like Fran Tarkington, Ahmad Rashad, Randall Cunnignham, Chris Carter, Robert Smith, Randy Moss and even Dante Culpepper, the Vikings have never been able to find a way to win it all. In fact, the Vikings hold the prestigious record of most-trips-to-a-Super-Bowl-without-a-win… something we can all be proud of.
So, much like my Vikings, I have found little satisfaction with my professional life. Like the Vikings, I have never gone all the way to complete success and seem to settle for mediocrity. It sucks, but it’s the way of the Viking.
And then, at the end of last year, 40 hit me like a tons of really old, crusty, worthless bricks and I settled into a funk. Mid-life was upon me, and suddenly I realized that the Vikings were having a pretty good year. And at the helm… Brett-Stinking-Favre: past nemesis, one of the all-time greats at the position of quarterback, and a dude who is (like me) dealing with just having entered the mid-life crisis of the 40s.
Suddenly, there was a light radiating from the end of the tunnel which had existed in nothing more than shadows these last 40 years. Suddenly, there was hope where hope had never existed. Suddenly, being 40 wasn’t so bad because if Brett Favre could lead my Vikings to a Super Bowl victory at 40, who was to say I can’t find some sort of success in my my own small way. 40 be damned… Brett Favre and I were going to show the world that turning 40 wasn’t an end of anything; Brett and I were about to show the world that turning 40 was actually the beginning of the best years of our lives!
And then tonight, Brett Favre and the lame, turnover-happy Minnesota Vikings destroyed this fantasy. Brett showed his age, and it wasn’t pretty. Brett let me down, but, more importantly, he showed me that turning 40 isn’t the beginning of anything good. The NFL is not kind. Being 40 isn’t easy. Being 40 in the unkind NFL is for nincompoops!
Brett, you nincompoop, you let me (and all of the Viking-faithful) down. It wasn’t for a lack of effort. It wasn’t for a lack of ability. It’s just, when you hit 40, the effort and ability rarely connect… and disappointment is never too far down the horizon…
Crap… man, the odds of Brett Favre reading my stinking little blog are about 1 in 10,000,000… but I want to get a message out to him! If any of you are in close personal contact with the 40-year-old grunt, let him know that he needs to give it one more shot! The Vikings need to win a Super Bowl some time before I die… and that stinking 40-year-old Favre is still the best bet of that happening…
Restore my faith, Old Man! Restore my faith…