Forgive Me

Why would I blog a Vikings game? I am supremely unsuited for the task. My vast and superior readership will click away in a heartbeat. Truthfully, I know not the ways of the pigskin. The only players I can name offhand are Red Grange, Brett Farve, and Randy Moss. I know that Red Grange is dead, Brett Farve is a Packer, and Randy Moss is relentlessly bitchy and bumps traffic cops with his horseless carriage. I guess what I'm saying is: the die is cast. I'm blogging the Vikings game until I lose interest, which will inevitably occur within the first 15 minutes of the game.

Pyrotechnics. Smoke, and so forth.

X kicks off. Others fly down the field. Well done, Others. That's exactly what I would have done.

26th yard line. I can't make sense of this. One fellow's surname is Wiggins. Wiggins, I'm smitten.

Culpepper goes off the edge. Writes postcard, resumes play.

Smashing, mayhem, wanton leg grabbing. Olde Wotsizname was right, football is a suitable substitute for war.

Fellows, why not PLAY?!? I say, stop STOPPING and POSING. Run around a bit, earn something, kick a ball.

Andersen breathes fire through nostrils, kicks ball into the massive thing. Earns three points for Vikings.

Commercials.

There they go again. "Nice move," Not-Madden said. Crowd cheers.

Players walk around, then fall into formation. Very good. Drink Gatorade.

I am seething with ennui. Blood pressure rising.

Incomplete pass. This I am familiar with. Okee, time for pie.