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 12, at New York Jets thoughts.

Week Twelve: at New York Jets

He was there on Friday. He was there on Saturday. Standing on the corner of 45th and Broadway in the heart of New York City. The first time my wife saw him, she laughed until tears streamed down her face. The second time she screamed in astonishment.

At first glance, all seemed normal enough: a middle-aged man wearing a Minnesota Vikings jacket. But to finish off the wardrobe, he chose to do the tourist thing…khaki shorts and black knee-high stockings. In late November.

We dubbed him the Viking Nerd. And little did I know at the time but he was an ominous portent for the way the lads in Purple would play that coming Sunday. Like nerds without a clue.

This is going to be one of those very rare columns wherein little of positive substance will be read. It is my hope that the team and coaching staff somehow get wind of what I’m about to say and come out against our bitter rival Green Bay next Monday and play the way we know they can.

For you see, late in the second quarter on Sunday with the team down to the New York Jets 20-7, I noticed something in common amongst most of the players as I walked behind the Viking bench. I saw disbelief amongst the young players and defeat among the veterans. Disbelief and defeat aren’t attributes that will win too many football games in the NFL.

During team warm-ups the players seemed normal enough. First on the field were John Randle and Robert Smith. The two found a place of solitude in one corner of an end zone and stretched together. Brad Johnson, still in street clothes, came out of the tunnel, took a few steps onto the turf and knelt down to test the damp Giants Stadium carpet. Seemingly satisfied, Brad went back in to suit up. On a bitterly cold day with the wind picking up, Chris Walsh decided to come out in shorts to warm up, a throwback from the Bud Grant days. The team went through a spirited workout and seemed ready to keep the losing streak at one game.

A Jets fan, showing himself a superior half-wit, decided to verbally attack Randle. Meadowlands security personnel at first seemed mildly amused but soon realized that this verbal attack could have an adverse reaction on Big Dog. Namely, it could fire up the Viking sack leader to the extent that he could dominate the game.

The security people turned to the fan and told him to shut up lest he fire up an already quarterback-hungry Randle. The fan didn’t shut up. But he soon ran out of vocal cords, and Randle was animated beyond belief. Unfortunately, so were the Jets’ special teams.

On the first punt of the game, Walsh, now in pads instead of shorts, missed his tackle and the Jets were up 7-0. Walsh was beside himself on the sideline and probably would have imploded had not several teammates intervened to settle him down.

The Vikings then drove for the end zone, quieting a boisterous Jets crowd along the way. I positioned myself along the goal line and knelt to take a photo of what I hoped to be a touchdown. Noticing Jake Reed lining up on the near side, I concentrated my lens on him. Reed made such an exceptional catch that I was left with my mouth open and camera unused; the shot missed but the game tied. I turned to sneer at the New York crowd as if to say, “In your face!”

Word of my defiance must have gotten to the Jets sidelines. Early in the third quarter I was kneeling on the 30-yard line with my lens focused on Keyshawn Johnson and Corey Fuller running an out pattern right towards me. The pass from Neil O’Donnell was thrown and I stayed with the players, not noticing that the ball’s slightly overthrown trajectory was taking it straight to me. The hard-thrown ball landed squarely on my upper right thigh. Four more inches upward and I would be a soprano unable to keep up certain contractual wedding vows to my lovely wife....namely, children.

It was at this point that I saw the defense start to take back some control of the game and some light comes back into the offensive players’ eyes. Reed made another great touchdown catch, dropped another one, but played a solid game and, unlike the week before, was one of the few players to give his all.

Let me try to summarize the last two minutes of the game, chaotic as they were, from my sideline perspective. Because from down there, my Purple Faithful, the game moves at lightning speed compared to the comfort of your easy chair and the great television camera angle.

Did the team seem hurried or unorganized? My assessment: no, not in the least. Communication from sideline to huddle was clear and without panic. Did Cris Carter cross the goal line on the 33-yard pass play? From my perspective he did before he fumbled and I was right on the goal line. I have yet to see any television reply and, frankly, I don’t care. I saw what I saw. Did Brad Johnson score on the one-yard quarterback sneak? Same answer and situation as I distinctly saw the ball cross the line with Brad’s right hand reaching forward.

It was at this point that I lost my professional demeanor and began barking at the side-judge, and everything became a blur that stretched out in slow motion. I remember Jeff Christy in severe pain and Walsh bending over him, screaming for Christy to get up and off the field. Christy struggled valiantly to do so with a strong will but an unresponsive body. Finally, just a few yards from the sidelines, nose tackle Jason Fisk assisted Christy off the field.

More images: The touchdown toss to tight-end Andrew Glover. The extreme joy amongst the Viking personnel on the field. Exchanging high-fives with fellow Viking photographers. The sudden realization that a two-point conversion must be made. The thought that the Vikings had not failed a two-point conversion all season long. The hand off to Robert Smith. A hole on the right side suddenly closing. The look on Robert’s face as he lay on the turf. The dejection apparent on David Palmer’s face on the sidelines.

The feeling that somewhere in New York City, the Viking Nerd is still out there, stalking the streets.....

Posted by maasx003 at October 27, 2004 07:09 AM