The Vikings Are More than a Sports Team
It was September 8th, 2015. I was heading to a class at my college when I saw I had a missed call from my mom. “He’s gone.” I knew exactly what it meant, so I called her back and planned my trip back to California from Phoenix. My dad had been battling stage four colon cancer in a hospice facility for about three months, and just a few days earlier, I made the trip out to say my final goodbyes.
We knew it was coming and, frankly, were glad to know his suffering had ended. This year’s Vikings season opener marked nine years from that day, and there was one way I remember him most: watching the Minnesota Vikings start their 2024 season with a win on the road.
While this may seem like a shallow or trivial act of memoriam to many, those of us who inherited our football fandom from our fathers know the generational bond associated with watching a ton of giant men fight over a ball and slam their heads together. For many, like myself, football wasn’t only a bonding experience. It was THE bonding experience. My dad was a complex man, to say the least. His dad was a retired Marine living in Twentynine Palms, California.
My grandfather had severe anger and drinking issues, and my dad was often the outlet for his outbursts. Living off the base in the middle of the California desert meant the TV options were limited. This caused the stars to align when my dad was a teenager, as he turned on the TV to see a speedy, improvising QB named Fran Tarkenton. The rest was history. From that moment, he became a diehard Vikings fan.
As the years passed, he had two sons with his first wife, and he met my mom a few years after they divorced. They settled down in Palm Springs and had me in 1992. My dad worked in restaurant repair and refrigeration, often working twelve-hour days in temperatures well over 110°. He was an incredibly hard worker and did everything he could to provide for us.
Unfortunately, the seeds planted in his childhood left an imprint that would severely impact our family. He was a severe alcoholic and would have intense anger outbursts almost every night. This obviously had a massive hit on us through the years and made it hard to have the typical father-son relationship any boy would hope for. Yet through it all, I knew that whenever the Vikings would be on TV, we would have our time to put everything else aside.
Living in Southern California before streaming services meant it wasn’t always easy to get the Vikes on locally, but when we did, we made the most of it. Some standouts I’ll never forget were Randy’s Thanksgiving Day performance, Peterson’s rookie performance in Chicago, and pretty much the entire 2009 season.
These moments were special. These games represented a time where anything that happened the week or even the night before was put on the back burner so we could channel our shared energy towards a common goal of a Vikings’ victory. These moments are the core memories I focus on of my father. Frankly, the others can be a little hard to think about. What football and the Vikings represented to us wasn’t just a temporary armistice. It was the thing that held our relationship together.
As years passed and I went on to college, we didn’t watch many games together, but we always texted during them. “What a play,” “I love Jared Allen!” and “This Ponder kid might not be THAT bad” were a few pieces of insight he sent my way (swing and a miss on the last one there, dude). Even after he was diagnosed with cancer, his favorite Vikings hat was on his bedside in hospice. A few days before he passed, he was allowed outside in a wheelchair, donning his purple fitted cap.
A couple of years later, in 2017, the Vikings had a season most of us will never forget. For the opening playoff game, my friends and I reserved a table at our local Vikings bar, which was directly in front of the big screen. My dad had left me his Vikings bomber jacket from the nineties, so with it being a brisk 65 degrees in Scottsdale at kickoff, I threw it on. Everyone asked me where I got it, so naturally, I shared a bit of my dad’s backstory.
Apparently, it stuck with those who heard it because during the Vikings’ last offensive drive of the game everyone was holding on to that jacket for dear life. Then, it happened. We all remember the moment. I was stunned, couldn’t find words, and had tears in my eyes. Yes, a divisional playoff win can mean that much. It was special, and even though the following game was the worst possible follow-up, no one will ever take the Minneapolis Miracle away from us.
Fast forward to now, and I am a first-time father. My son Case is just over 13 months old, and his personality shines through more every day. Being a dad is the greatest honor of my life, and I couldn’t be more thankful to have the son I do. Before I became a dad, I reflected on my family legacy and had to address some difficult truths about alcoholism and anger issues. I didn’t want my son to ever worry about those things. I wanted to break the cycle, and I’ve been working every day to make sure he never has to face the things I did.
Naturally, though, one thing is being passed on, at least until he can wise up and run for a different option. Even if he eventually chooses not to be a Vikings fan or doesn’t even take an interest in football, I want him to know why it matters to me so much. It’s the one insight I can really give him into his grandpa that he’ll never get to meet.
Of course, I hope he decides to cheer on the purple and gold one day when he’s too old for me to toss a Vikings onesie on him, but more than anything, I hope we have something we can bond over this strongly. Whatever it may be.
This past Sunday, my family and I were in attendance for Minnesota’s upset win over the Niners. Even though my son isn’t old enough to fully realize what he was watching, we jumped around, cheered, and shared high fives. One day, I’ll even be able to tell him he was there for what will likely go down as Justin Jefferson’s longest career catch. These memories will last a lifetime, and Vikings football is to thank.
When I’ve shared pieces of this story on social media in the past, I’ve had tons of Vikings fans share similar stories about football and fatherhood. From watching Favre beat the Packers together a few days before losing your father or your last exchanged phone call coming right after the Minneapolis Miracle. Football isn’t life, but for many of us, it marks significant milestones throughout the journey.
Eventually, the Vikings will likely win a Super Bowl, and when they do, there will be thousands and thousands of Vikings fans whose first thoughts go towards those who are no longer with them, those who put them on their path to football fandom in the first place. I know that will be the case for me, and hopefully, my son and I get to celebrate it together. Here’s to family, here’s to legacy, here’s to the Minnesota Vikings.
SKOL.
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