Vikings, Saints, and Mixed Emotions

It has been more than a week since that remarkable NFC Championship game in New Orleans, and I am still mixed about it. Don't get me wrong -- the end result was just what I wanted. But the Favre element has me feeling conflicted.

Before we turn to my own mixed emotions, though, let's savor for a moment the emotions of Viking fans. Having lived through some pretty devastating losses as a Cleveland fan (multiple Browns losses to the Broncos, Michael Jordan's shot over Craig Ehlo, and the two modern-era Indians World Series performances), plus the assorted heartbreaks experienced as a Packers fan, I have a little sense for what the folks in Minnesota went through on Sunday.

There was very little doubt that the Vikings were the better team on the field that day. Their defense had largely stifled the vaunted Saints offense, and their offense was gaining ground very effectively against the New Orleans defense. The only thing that really stopped the Viking offense, in fact, was the Viking offense.

Fumbles. An unbelievable, embarrassing epidemic of fumbles. Now the Saints have a reputation for takeaways, and so they may deserve some credit. But any impartial observer -- and certainly any Minnesota fan -- recognized that the Vikings gave that game away.

Still, heading down to the final moments of the game, Minnesota had the ball and the score was tied. In spite of their horrific ball security, and in spite of playing on the road in a notoriously loud dome, the Vikings were still in position to win the game. Indeed, they were literally in position to win the game, situated just inside Ryan Longwell's range with first down and not much time left on the clock.

A first-down run went nowhere. Nothing lost, nothing gained. Fine. Same story on second down.

What to do on third down? It was easy to imagine a play-action fake, with Peterson running into the line pretending to have the ball, while Favre hits Harvin or Rice straking down the field for a nail-in-the-coffin gain down inside the Saints ten-yard-line.

A 12th man in the Minnesota huddle, however, eliminated the play-action fake. Now the Vikings were -- unthinkably -- backed up outside Longwell's range, and they had to pass it.

Favre rolled right -- a good call. He had lots of field in front of him, and he had only a few yards he needed to gain in order to give Longwell a decent shot to win the game. But he threw it. Across his body. Late. Into the middle of the field.

Ah, the familliar "bad Brett." Alas, we knew him well.

Favre never touched the ball again. Indeed, perhaps never will touch the ball again in an NFL game. And that is where the mixed feelings come in for me. I hated to see him in a Viking uniform this year, but I didn't begrudge him the move personally, for I feel that he was forced out of Green Bay. I rooted against him all year because of his team, but still I hate the thought of his final pass being an intereception. A memorable, game-killing, Super Bowl squashing interception.

It was a remarkable game. And it will take a long, long time for Viking fans -- and Favre himself -- to get over it.