Truly, I suppose there is really nothing else the subject matter could possibly be this week, right? It is all anyone is talking about since Tuesday morning. So, at the risk of my sister Darla not reading my column this week, I must talk sports.
It seems all eyes are on the state of Minnesota this week with the Vikings signing of the Grand Cheesehead…the grizzled future Hall-of-Famer…the man Vikings fans loved to hate…Brett Favre. Or as my wife Kathy calls him…He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. My daughter, Lindsay, thinks that when she heard the news, she may have “thrown up a little” in her mouth. Ewwww.
Even my sports-hating sister Darla surely must have heard the news way up there in Cloquet. As WCCO reporter Jason DeRusha posted yesterday on facebook, the state of Minnesota is in the grips of a Favregasm.
Love him or hate him, he has brought nearly unheard-of attention to the Minnesota Vikings this week.
I will watch the Vikings this year as I have in years past. I will have to swallow hard, but eventually the surreal vision of seeing #4 in a purple jersey will eventually wear off. Right? A life-long Vikings fan, it will be difficult to see a man I have loathed so much in recent years manning the position previously filled by people like Fran Tarkenton, Joe Kapp and Tommy Kramer.
If there is a bright side, it is the fact that many Wisconsinites are whining from the depths of their whiny little whiner holes about the fact that Favre has slapped them in the face. Fun.
In Favre’s favor, he has been handed the keys to a sleek and sassy offense with lots of firepower. All he has to do is not screw up, and the Vikings could find themselves deep in the playoffs.
There is always the chance, though, that the first time he tries to lead Bernard Berrian on a 60-yard fly pattern that his 39-year-old right arm will come off right there on the 20 yard line.
Then, of course, there will be those awkward 5-6 weeks where he won’t be able to decide whether he retires or has it re-attached so he can be back in time for the playoffs.
Or there is always a concern that Tavaris Jackson or Sage Rosenfels may slip something toxic in his Metamucil. They seem to have each taken a giant step backwards on the depth charts.
Who knows, at his age if the Democrats get health care reform pushed through, he may have to stand before a Death Panel…
Who knows how this will all turn out when the dust has settled from the Favre Circus arriving at Winter Park. I’ll temper my excitement as I do every year. I can’t let my hopes get so high that they freefall and crash once again.
I CAN report however that a sports figure DID get me excited in recent days. It was my great pleasure, at around 4:00 PM on August 12, 2009, to stand for a few short minutes talking with former Minnesota Twins superstar Tony Oliva at…get this…the Ruthton Mini-Mart.
Mr. Oliva walked in the front door as I was about to depart. My jaw dropped as I recognized the gentleman immediately, and for a few moments I was once again 10 years old, staring at one of my life’s idols. Tony O., one of the greatest hitting outfielders a pre-teen could ever imagine.
As he walked in the door, he flashed that extra-large grin and pointed at the Twins shirt I was wearing.
“Twins fan,” he said.
I reached out my hand and shook his hand. “What the heck are you doing in Ruthton, Minnesota,” I asked. He laughed, and somehow through his thick Cuban accent I learned he was returning from Huron, South Dakota, after visiting his wife’s family.
“If I had a camera right now,” I told him, “you and I would be posing for a picture.”
He shared his easy laugh once again.
This time he reached to shake MY hand.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“I’m Mark,” I replied.
“OK, now what’s MY name?” he asked with a grin, testing me.
“Tony O.” I replied with a bit of a “duh” inflection to my voice. “I lived and breathed you guys when I was a kid.”
Another smile from old #6 and I conveyed to him what a pleasure it was to meet him. As I was backing out the front door, I reverted once again to the 10-year-old in me…
“Tony Oliva!” I shouted to everyone else in the building. “In Ruthton, Minnesota!!!”
Tony threw back his head for one last chuckle and then I was out of the building.
I’m not sure what happened after I left. I’m not sure anybody else had ever heard of Tony Oliva. I might have caused him and his wife a bit of a delay before they escaped, but all I know is that I got to meet a man who I looked up to a great deal in my youth. I met Tony O.
As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot I called Kathy to tell her of my good fortune. I fought the nearly insurmountable urge to turn around and go back when she reminded me that I actually have a camera on my cell phone. I’m not sure if she used the word “bonehead” or “dork” to describe me. I was busy talking myself down from a U-turn.
I was so upset back in 1976 when his knees betrayed him. He could still hit like nobody’s business, but he could no longer run. I felt bad for him.
Thirty-three years later I find out that I needn’t have worried. Tony is doing just fine. A man who can laugh that easily has just GOT to be doing fine…
It seems all eyes are on the state of Minnesota this week with the Vikings signing of the Grand Cheesehead…the grizzled future Hall-of-Famer…the man Vikings fans loved to hate…Brett Favre. Or as my wife Kathy calls him…He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. My daughter, Lindsay, thinks that when she heard the news, she may have “thrown up a little” in her mouth. Ewwww.
Even my sports-hating sister Darla surely must have heard the news way up there in Cloquet. As WCCO reporter Jason DeRusha posted yesterday on facebook, the state of Minnesota is in the grips of a Favregasm.
Love him or hate him, he has brought nearly unheard-of attention to the Minnesota Vikings this week.
I will watch the Vikings this year as I have in years past. I will have to swallow hard, but eventually the surreal vision of seeing #4 in a purple jersey will eventually wear off. Right? A life-long Vikings fan, it will be difficult to see a man I have loathed so much in recent years manning the position previously filled by people like Fran Tarkenton, Joe Kapp and Tommy Kramer.
If there is a bright side, it is the fact that many Wisconsinites are whining from the depths of their whiny little whiner holes about the fact that Favre has slapped them in the face. Fun.
In Favre’s favor, he has been handed the keys to a sleek and sassy offense with lots of firepower. All he has to do is not screw up, and the Vikings could find themselves deep in the playoffs.
There is always the chance, though, that the first time he tries to lead Bernard Berrian on a 60-yard fly pattern that his 39-year-old right arm will come off right there on the 20 yard line.
Then, of course, there will be those awkward 5-6 weeks where he won’t be able to decide whether he retires or has it re-attached so he can be back in time for the playoffs.
Or there is always a concern that Tavaris Jackson or Sage Rosenfels may slip something toxic in his Metamucil. They seem to have each taken a giant step backwards on the depth charts.
Who knows, at his age if the Democrats get health care reform pushed through, he may have to stand before a Death Panel…
Who knows how this will all turn out when the dust has settled from the Favre Circus arriving at Winter Park. I’ll temper my excitement as I do every year. I can’t let my hopes get so high that they freefall and crash once again.
I CAN report however that a sports figure DID get me excited in recent days. It was my great pleasure, at around 4:00 PM on August 12, 2009, to stand for a few short minutes talking with former Minnesota Twins superstar Tony Oliva at…get this…the Ruthton Mini-Mart.
Mr. Oliva walked in the front door as I was about to depart. My jaw dropped as I recognized the gentleman immediately, and for a few moments I was once again 10 years old, staring at one of my life’s idols. Tony O., one of the greatest hitting outfielders a pre-teen could ever imagine.
As he walked in the door, he flashed that extra-large grin and pointed at the Twins shirt I was wearing.
“Twins fan,” he said.
I reached out my hand and shook his hand. “What the heck are you doing in Ruthton, Minnesota,” I asked. He laughed, and somehow through his thick Cuban accent I learned he was returning from Huron, South Dakota, after visiting his wife’s family.
“If I had a camera right now,” I told him, “you and I would be posing for a picture.”
He shared his easy laugh once again.
This time he reached to shake MY hand.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“I’m Mark,” I replied.
“OK, now what’s MY name?” he asked with a grin, testing me.
“Tony O.” I replied with a bit of a “duh” inflection to my voice. “I lived and breathed you guys when I was a kid.”
Another smile from old #6 and I conveyed to him what a pleasure it was to meet him. As I was backing out the front door, I reverted once again to the 10-year-old in me…
“Tony Oliva!” I shouted to everyone else in the building. “In Ruthton, Minnesota!!!”
Tony threw back his head for one last chuckle and then I was out of the building.
I’m not sure what happened after I left. I’m not sure anybody else had ever heard of Tony Oliva. I might have caused him and his wife a bit of a delay before they escaped, but all I know is that I got to meet a man who I looked up to a great deal in my youth. I met Tony O.
As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot I called Kathy to tell her of my good fortune. I fought the nearly insurmountable urge to turn around and go back when she reminded me that I actually have a camera on my cell phone. I’m not sure if she used the word “bonehead” or “dork” to describe me. I was busy talking myself down from a U-turn.
I was so upset back in 1976 when his knees betrayed him. He could still hit like nobody’s business, but he could no longer run. I felt bad for him.
Thirty-three years later I find out that I needn’t have worried. Tony is doing just fine. A man who can laugh that easily has just GOT to be doing fine…
*****
To those of you in the RTR School District, I've been asked to point you to the top left of my page for a link to the RTR Elementary School PTSA facebook page. Click on the link to get the latest...
What a great column, Mark... not only because of your "whiny Wisconsinite" comments, but because of the great humility it took to forget you have a camera on your cell phone. You were awestruck... that's all there is to it! The Vikings needed a quarterback and got Favre out of retirement... how 'bout getting Blyleven out of retirement!!!!!!!
ReplyDeleteJen
I continue to enjoy your columns here - thanks so much for sharing them! I was more into politics as a kid (strange I know) so if I ran into like Vin Weber in a convenience store I'd maybe have the same reaction. Hmmm, maybe I shouldn't have shared that :)
ReplyDelete