Vikes Beat the Jets in Another Fantastic Finish – A View from the Top
Joe Oberle
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Since 2018, when I no longer secured a media pass to Vikings home games, I hadn’t been inside U.S. Bank Stadium on Sundays much. I attended a couple games in my father-in-law’s seats in subsequent seasons but didn’t like the view much, and spent too many moments during the game looking across the field to the press box at my former colleagues and friends with a mixture of sadness and bitterness because I no longer had a table in front of my seat to house my laptop while writing game wraps. I found that watching at home was much more comfortable—and Covid-19 made it easier to justify staying away and giving the tickets to my adult kids.
Then my father-in-law, who long shared his season tickets with us, gave them up before this season—of all seasons—and I resigned myself to not seeing a Vikings game in person in 2022. And as the season progressed, that became tougher to endure. But my daughter, who would not give up her in-person fandom so easily, bought a set of tickets for her and a couple friends. And on the night before the New York Jets game, when she came down with the flu, she called and offered them to me, her brother Seth (in town for Thanksgiving), and a friend of his. It was 1 a.m. of game day when she finally realized she couldn’t go, and we, in slightly inebriated fashion, quickly jumped on it.
(The next morning we were slightly less enamored with our decision, but that was a situation of our own making, and a story for another time.)
Seth had texted his pal Cody, who quickly accepted and was at our house in time and ready to roll. By the time we drove downtown, parked and got through the lines (something else I dislike about stadium ball during cold, flu, and Covid season), we were out of breath—not because we were running but, rather, because our seats were located at the very top of “The Vault.” The back row—Bob Uecker tickets. My daughter bought tickets before the season, and these were the ones in her budget, but soon I realized I was sitting far above the press box in an area that could present concerns of altitude sickness.
My reaction, between taking gasps of air to return to normal lung function, was to laugh. I wasn’t in Kansas anymore—I for sure wasn’t going to get a press box lunch. Was this ignominious return to the stadium my penance for staying away so long? But after the laughter subsided, the thought quickly set in that my lazy boy at home in front of my 56-inch high-def TV would afford much better viewing than my ancient eye were about to experience.
But I was wrong. In the intervening years, I had forgotten the advantages of in-game viewing. There is the noise and the pulse of the home crowd behind a first-place team that cannot be replicated at home. There is a vantage point of seeing plays develop and receivers breaking open, perhaps, even before the quarterback, that are never seen until the All-22 film comes out. And there is the roar, the (near) unanimous, synchronized roar when Cam Bynum secures the win with a goal-line interception and slides to the turf that lifts you out of your seat and into high-fiving madness that my wife doesn’t usually join.
Spectacular.
(Of course, there was also the annoying Jets fan in front of me who at less than half my age still had to wear a tall stocking hat with a fluffy ball on top to keep his head warm inside a building despite the sun streaming in through the back panels at the “Top of The World” seats we were in and obscure a good thirty yards of my viewing radius. I honestly don’t know how anyone watches a Vikings-Green Bay game seated behind a Packers fan who insists on the importance of a tall, foam rubber piece of plastic cheese to signify allegiance to his favorite team—particularly on the road! Discussions about, suggestions regarding or even forceful removing of said headgear must surely have resulted in fisticuffs over the years, hasn’t it? How could it not? But that’s also a story for another time.)
But then there is something else going on with this team this year. The Vikings, after yet another fast start, slow middle and frenetic finish, won a ball game against a very good team to go to 10-2 atop the NFC North, 4 of 5 in the toughest part of their schedule and nearly pass the final test for a return to playoffs (win next week and they are in). But what’s strange is the manner in which they have arrived at this point.
They have won nine one-score games (a team record), and the fans have had to sweat out every one. The wins have been dramatic (Washington), quirky (New England), and crazy (Buffalo), but always out-sized in their intensity. And with each one, we, as fans, waited for that one game: a win going away in which they took one of their fast starts, expanded the lead and kept it the rest of the game—comfortably. A victory that would feature building on a halftime lead by actually scoring third-quarter points for an easy, chill, fourth-quarter including one final insurance touchdown and about 12 minutes of prevent defense to salt it away. You know, like how about coming out of the lockerroom, take the second-half kickoff, score a quick TD to extend their 20-6 lead so we fans can kick back and dream of the playoffs? Perfect for the old guy with a hangover who didn’t want to walk down to the concession stand to settle his gurgling stomach.
But no, that is not the 2022 Vikings team. Their MO is to build a lead, hibernate a bit, and then hold on like rusty-brown leaves in a wind storm. It has happened so many times that it’s no longer anomalous, it’s become standard operating procedure. Although it’s an MO that’s not sustainable, right? We say that after every game. But the Vikings are a roller coaster ride that is not for the squeamish—and doesn’t appear to be ending anytime soon.
Truth be told, the 20-3 lead near halftime started to get a little boring, and since I hadn’t been in the building for a few years, I did want to see a memorable game—even though that up in those nose bleeds seats some of the players looked as small as Tecmo Bowl players. Secretly, I wanted more action from the offense or failing that a little bit better game from the Jets so I wouldn’t fall asleep.
Well, I got it. The Vikings went into their third quarter swoon and it wasn’t long before my gurgling stomach began to sour. I suddenly realized that the pit of my stomach was roiling as though I was on the sideline in uniform. I was doubled over, hands on my knees and trying to breathe through it like I was about to give birth to a nine-pound egg (as the Viking were preparing to lay one of their own). The Vikings defense were in the midst of a goal-line stand, trying once more to desperately cling to a slim lead they had no rightful claim of maintaining. And I was afraid my return to the stadium was going to coincide with (or even worse, cause) the end of this crazy, lucky, outstanding, unprecedented run. I was glad to have the wall to lean on behind me.
In the end the Vikings won—Bynum made his game-saving play, we all roared in relief and I sat down for a good 20 minutes to let crowd in front of me (and technically the entire crowd was in front of me) file out of our section.
Once again, no questions about this team were completely answered. They won, but the constant on-air and online discussion about how we should feel about them continues (Cautiously optimistic? Negatively fatalistic? It’s all good, cool beans?). I thought it would be nice to see an easy win; I had been looking for one that morning. But this finish got my blood boiling. The Buffalo game was great and got me off my chair at home. But being in-house for the Jets game had me pacing like I was going to puke.
When I walked outside into the 33-degree December weather, the sun was shining through the clouds and warmed my face. I chatted with another fan, a complete stranger, at a crosswalk—both of us incredulous of having just witnessed yet another fantastic finish emblematic of this season. We laughed and moved into the day, happy with the score and the 10-2 record. And the relief I felt coming down from the gut-churning previous hour, felt like a warm blanket.
Soon, my son and I were smiling, relief turning into the exciting realization that we had witnessed another 2022 Vikings event! If this is what it is and going to be—frenetic late-game wins, always teetering on the edge of disaster yet falling onto the safe side of the crevice—then so be it. I loved it. There may possibly be a familiar yet humbling crash awaiting this team always dancing on the razor’s edge—and for the fans who have seen it before—but until that day, give me the rush of these exquisite, spine-tingling wins that avert demise, offer dreams of playoff successes and keep our Purple hearts pumping every week. If this is what it is, I will take it.
As I began writing this piece, I took a break to listen to Patrick Peterson speaking with Dan Barreiro on KFAN, and the host brought up an Eric Kendricks quote from Sunday in which he claimed that the team was “becoming addicted” to these finishes. That was it exactly! That’s what came over me right before halftime, as I considered a cliffhanger ending would be more fun than a relaxing blowout win. I realized I had become, despite my bottle fatigue (with another a beer in hand, of course), addicted to these crazy, heart-rending glorious finishes.
And what was Peterson’s advice? “Embrace it!”
He’s damn right. I have a ticket to the season finale against the Bears in Chicago—where strange and crazy stuff always takes place. Let’s go!
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