Tempered Expectations

What up world,

Sorry for the absence. I've been attempting to write something a little longer and more substantial, and it takes up a considerable amount of time. Until I complete this project, the blogging is going to be put on the back burner. My daily allotment of creative juices is being drunk by other pursuits. Does that sound gross in any way? Possibly.

However, there may be some events that cause me to emerge from the shadows to let me voice be heard by the world. To scream from the mountaintop to the gathered masses below...Well, mainly just my father. What's up, Dad? I think you're the only one that still checks this.

The event in question is, of course, the athletic contest between the Vikings of Minnesota, and the Cowboys of Dallas, taking place midday tomorrow. It is an affair that I can think about only in small doses, as it causes my heart to start racing, and small amounts of pee to leave my body whenever I dwell on it for too long.

At the same time, however, it is all that I have focused on for the past week. I have been scanning the interwebs in search of positive news. I wanted to read that the Vikes were going to trounce the Boys, and that I had nothing to worry about. That All Day was going to continue to crush Texas' hopes and dreams (Boomer Sooner y'all). That Percy was going to blow my mind with his speed and ability to smoke massive bong loads. That Favre was going to truly weasel his way into my heart strings after being my sworn enemy for hundreds of years.

But none of this happened. Everything that I heard, everything that I read, pointed toward the Cowboys. I kept hearing about their hot streak, how their defense was going to dominate my team, and how our secondary couldn't cover their receivers. After a week of this, I've started to doubt the destiny of my Vikings. In my mind, they had gone from prohibitive favorites, to extreme longshots. They had turned into the underdog...

And that's when it hit me. I hate favorites. I hate dynasties. I want to root for the underdog. My entire life of fandome has trained me to cheer for the team that all the odds are stacked against. The Timberwolves, the Twins, the Badgers, and the Vikings have never provided me with a feeling of utmost confidence. The only time that I truly believed my team to be the best was in 1998, during the season that cannot be named. The crushing defeat that happened in overtime, to the dirtiest of birds, left me devastated. I still haven't fully recovered.

Victories are always sweeter when they aren't expected, and losses are less difficult to bear. It's a terrible manner in which to conduct oneself as a fan, but it has worked for me for years. It's my coping mechanism.

So, thank you national sports media. Thank you Dallas. If the Vikings manage to pull out an unexpected victory, I will be running throughout San Diego in a thoroughly embarrassing display of joy. If they lose, I will be able to move on with my life, instead of considering a venture into traffic.

I believe in you Vikings. Really, I do. But I'm not getting my hopes up...

-Sota