Something strange happens when football season begins. I become overcome with powerful feelings for my Vikings despite knowing they’re doomed, a combination of optimism and resignation, of excitement and mild dread. That’s why every year I post this story about a team that can see greatness over the horizon and never quite get there.
To my surprise this Vikings affection hasn’t receded over time, despite Kirk Cousins’ presence on the team. On a rational level caring about these games is absurd. Of course rationality has nothing to do with it. But even on an emotional level the payoff for being a Vikings fan is close to nil and possibly enters negative territory. Caring about them invites many forms of aggravation spread out across multiple decades.