I'm Like A Running Back, Man, I'm Straight Off The Block...

This is a little blurb I’ve been meaning to write for a minute, but now seems like the perfect time for it. I just got back from watching the Vikings-Packers game in one of the suites at the Metrodome with my dad (thanks goes out to the people who made this possible. Anyone who wants to set me up with cushy seats and fill my belly with free Summit is A-OK in my book). As I’m sure most of you know, the story of the game was that it was Brett Favre’s first game against his old team. To sports fans, this was a big deal.

Ever since Brett Favre made his comeback official, he’s has been pretty much the top story in the Twin Cities. Of course, as with any occasion when sports bleeds into culture, there has been quite a backlash from non-sports fans regarding the coverage of the story. I’m willing to concede that the story has certainly stepped over the “overkill” line. Speaking as a sports fan who was both intrigued and excited about the Favre signing, even I was put off by the helicopter shots of Favre taking a car from his private jet to Winter Park.

But what my friends who dislike sports, or are at least annoyed by the amount of coverage devoted to them by the media, I’d like to take a minute to try to explain the reasons behind at least MY excitement for the Brett Favre-helmed Vikings and sports in general.

When I was a kid I liked sports because that’s what kids did, y’know? In hindsight, those old Twins teams were very special, but at the time I almost liked them out of obligation. If you didn’t like the Twins or Vikings, you had to explain why. Never one to embrace confrontation, I found it a lot easier to embrace the teams and love them.

Now that I’m a little older, I’ve come to realize the significance of professional sports within a community. Now, I’m not a fool. I realize that these people don’t “represent” Minnesota in the same sense that you and I do. We shovel snow, we drink our Premium, and we sit through the road construction. These people are professional athletes. They are essentially mercenaries, plying their trade for whoever will pay them top dollar, rarely putting too much stock in the words scrawled across the front of their jerseys. They perform their task, are paid handsomely, and then return to places like Hattiesburg, MS or Trencin, Slovakia. And good for them! If someone wanted to pay me millions of dollars a year to spend 6 months a year in Helsinki, stock grocery shelves, and write about pop music, I’d do it faster than you could say “Suomi.”

This communal enjoyment that comes from watching millionaires play with a football, baseball, hockey puck, etc… stems from a desire for a shared experience. People were not excited that Brett Favre was coming to Minnesota because they are personally invested in Brett Favre. People were excited because Brett Favre makes the Vikings a very good team, and being a good team increases their cultural significance. Now, the Vikings winning the Super Bowl is not going to affect how well we sleep the night after a Super Bowl victory or any night afterward (except for a few screwballs. You know the ones). The Vikings winning the Super Bowl would be special because we would have been there. It’s an experience that would provide a common ground with every other football fan around you. In a world of red states, blue states, anonymous internet posting, and good old fashioned Minnesota passivity, I find that this is a feeling that can be very fleeting. I believe this potential is what excites most sports fan.

To take this “shared experience” a step further, it’s not even really relevant whether the Vikings win the Super Bowl or not. Remember that ’98 Vikings team? Ha! Like you could forget even if you wanted to. That team didn’t win the Super Bowl, but we all look back on that team with twinkles in our eyes. Why? Ultimately, they failed, as every Viking team has, to capture that elusive Super Bowl championship. It’s because we were all there. We all lived that season with our families, friends, and, most importantly, complete strangers. That team inspired a communal sense of pride (or at the very least, a larger than normal communal interest). It was heartbreaking when they lost that NFC Championship game, but that heartbreak felt the same to you, me, my neighbor, and that dude at the bus stop rockin’ a Randall Cunningham jersey. And, for whatever that’s worth, it was sickly comforting to know that we had all been there together.

Allow me to relate a personal experience that became the basis for my “shared experience” theory. Ever since the Minnesota Wild have been in existence (2000-2001), my dad, brother, and I have been slavishly devoted fans. We’ve gone to games together, worked at games together, watched that unforgettable playoff run of 2002-2003 in our basement together. We’ve exchanged countless text messages and e-mails regarding the team and burned through a lot of daytime minutes discussing the utter brilliance of Wes Walz. What I’ve realized over these years, is that our devotion to the team rarely stems from their record. All tings considered, the Wild have been an average-to-decent team for nearly a decade now. But what the Wild did provide us with was something to bond over. They provided a reason to get together down in St. Paul or a reason to shoot off a text message in the middle of the day. I can honestly say that the Minnesota Wild has helped me build a better relationship with my family. I have a sneaking suspicion this experience is not exclusive to me.

(It should also be noted that Pheezy and I have derived innumerable nights of drinking, bar hopping, nights in his home theatre, inside jokes, player nicknames, metaphors for our situations in life, dances (The Zholtok!), completely left-field references, and even a system of ranking past, present, & potential girlfriends based on the Minnesota Wild. Great fucking times.)

Over the past week I’ve seen so many Twins shirts around town that I’ve lost count. Some people see them as fairweather fans, but I see them more as people who have felt that groundswell of passion that the Twins have provided their fans, and have felt it permeate culture in general. What always strikes me about these people is that they aren’t “bandwagon hopping,” trying to catch a winner. It’s that they see the community rallying around something and they want to be part of it. As someone who takes an unhealthy amount of pride in this community, it warms my heart. Sports, it seems, provides this opportunity in a way that few other entities do.

Ask anyone in Nebraska about the Cornhuskers QB situation and I’ll bet they have an answer (monosyllabic and ill-informed though it may be). Ask anyone on Calgary’s Red Mile after a Flames playoff victory (you may have to wait a while for this opportunity) if they’re really excited the Flames won or if they’re excited to have watched the game and celebrated the victory with their friends? Ask anyone in New York what they think of John Tavares and they’ll say, “Who?” (I kid, I kid. Go, Isles, Go!).

My point, and I guess I have one, is that this is why professional and amateur sports are significant. Unfortunately, when things like publicly financed stadiums come up, this is a fact that is usually lost in the shuffle between the anti-stadium, “playgrounds for millionaires” people and the “The Vikings may not be able to sign Adrian Peterson to a 12 year, $150 million contract extension without a new, revenue-generating stadium. For the love of god, give them whatever they want.” people. It’s certainly a tight rope to walk, but intangible things, which, by their definition, can’t be quantified, need to at least be accounted for. Without these types of rallying points, the Twin Cities would just be a slightly warmer Winnipeg. I, for one, am glad they’re here.