The 1997 Season

Note: 1997 was the first season that I wrote down thoughts the entire year. Therefore, the 1997 season summary will come in multiple additions to my blog. Today's 1997 entry will be Week 9, New England thoughts.

Week Nine: New England

“You go back and tell them that I’m coming and I’m bringing Hell with me!” Kurt Russell in Tombstone.

Early Sunday morning I had a dilemma. I noticed that NFL Films was doing a special on John Randle at 10:30 a.m. I was due to begin tailgating at 8:00 a.m. Then I looked outside, discovering a fresh powder of snow already on the roads. It was still falling in a heavy, gusty, bitterly cold wind with temperatures in the lower 30s and dropping. The decision was then easy.

No, I did not wrap myself up in a nice little blanket with a cup of the International Coffee flavor of the month. I set the VCR, then ran downstairs to kick my guest for the weekend, Mark Gresbach, out of bed.

We loaded up the Jeep and out the door we went, each sporting Russian fur hats, a cooler full of ribs and beer, and, oh yeah, a John Randle attitude.

Three hours later we grudgingly headed inside, not for warmth, mind you, but for the sheer delight of knowing that New England Patriot quarterback Drew Bledsoe would soon be splattered like the snowballs we had been throwing outside just hours earlier.

From my front row position in the mighty Thunder Zone (the original), whom did I spy immediately but one Henry Thomas, former Viking, and now Patriot, warming up in the end zone. Welcoming Henry back to his former haunt with some choice words that had several nearby fans blushing, I then focused on the line judge.

Explaining ever so politely that this individual in front of me had a tendency to hold and generally play dirty football, I pointed out that he, as an NFL referee, should pay particular attention to Thomas during the game. The line judge gave me a thumbs up, and the game was in the pocket before it even started.

Bledsoe sauntered over to chat with one of his teammates. Once again, engaging myself with a member of the enemy, I used my best poker face to explain to Bledsoe that in no way shape or form could he possibly be ready to play this game. Getting a quizzical look from Drew, I explained, “After all, Drew Baby, you can’t practice being miserable.” He soon found out what I meant.

As the team captains met at the 50-yard line for the coin flip, one of the team captains in purple held back a ways. Several Patriot captains attempted to shake hands with him. The purple-clad figure refused.

They couldn’t have known better. You see, the Patriots didn’t have a chance to see the NFL Films special that morning either. Otherwise they would have known that the man known to many as Big Dog or Knightrider or Road Warrior or Ruler of the Wasteland or even Lord Humongous does not shake hands with anyone before the game. John Randle had to go to work, and no one gets close to Randle when he’s on the job.

Defensively, Randle had help today with outstanding efforts from Stalin Colinet who quickly had Mark and I grabbing our Russian hats and doing a wild Cossack dance. Duane Clemons showed that the loose change in my pocket moved better than Bledsoe did in his. Fernando Smith and Derrick Alexander, both injured, played inspired football every play they were in. And Jason Fisk and Jerry “I’m Full” Ball kept Patriot running back Curtis Martin well in check through most of the game, holding him to a whopping 11 yards in the first half.

But it was in the second half, with the Patriots going for it on fourth-and-one deep in Viking territory, that the Viking defense displayed more character than at any other time this season. Simply, they held. As they left the field, they signified their thanks to the crowd whose decibel levels reached the loudest I have heard at the Dome in six years.

Last week, I told you that Brad Johnson has only one thing to keep in mind each game: When Cris Carter is covered, he’s open. This proved true once again when Johnson found Carter covered by Patriot’s defensive back Willie Clay and threw the ball anyway.

Seconds later, Carter was dancing in the end zone, the recipient of a 28-yard touchdown pass to seal the Viking victory. Keeping in tune with the defense, Carter recognized the fans’ efforts by running the length of the end zone, arms outstretched as if to thank the Purple Faithful for another strong show of support.

Returning home after the game, I rewound the VCR to see what I had missed that morning, John Randle on NFL Films. I learned something new, that John is a huge movie buff who earmarked Tombstone and Mad Max: The Road Warrior as some of his favorite flicks.

This leaves only one question for next week’s game against the Chicago Bears. Just who among the Bears will be Randle’s next huckleberry?

Posted by maasx003 at October 24, 2004 07:43 AM