we lost a friend the other day. He was
everything to us. Leader, buddy, teacher.
He was part of us. He inspired, motivated,
cajoled.
His memory sparkled in my brain this
past Sunday, for he was a Vikings fan. He
would have loved every minute of this most
recent drama and, like Brett Favre, it may
have even made him cry - for joy.
A father living in a house of Packer
fans, he never seemed to mind, but
believed only in purple. Nobody could sway
him - at least outwardly.
Inside, we knew better.
I sat next to him, squeezed into the
inner recesses of his 1965 recliner,
watching the Packers clobber the Oakland
Raiders in the second Super Bowl. He
cheered for Green Bay.
Pre-television Sundays in our house
were spent with a radio on - somewhere- it
could have been anywhere. Outside while
he shoveled dirt; In the car while we
motored; in the house when winter
whipped.
The Packers were always there... until
the Vikings invaded.
Yochen, claiming his allegiance was
due to the close proximity of our home
with the Twin Cities, took to them,
clapping and huzzahing every time they
beat the Packers.
We still knew better. His loyalties were
always suspect.
He knew we knew, but he kept the
facade. He loved bantering about who was
better. He would read Don Riley columns
from the St. Paul Pioneer Press during
dinner just to ignite the flames.
Really, he didn't care who won over
whom. His concern was teaching us that
there is so much in this world worth
experiencing and that we should take the
time to enjoy as much of it as we can. Thus
his love for both the Vikings and Packers.
During the last year of his life he saw
probably one of the greatest seasons in
Viking history. Like all Viking fans, he
was crushed by the team's final playoff
game. He had seen the four Super Bowl
losses, he watched players like Paul
Krause, Joe Kapp, Ahmad Rashad, Chuck
Foreman, Bill Brown, Darin Nelson, and
Randy Moss get so close and then fail to
win championships. But that didn't matter.
A quiet riot roared in him while
witnessing the success and subsequent
failure of the Packers over the past three
decades. Winning Super Bowl XXXI made
him happy - but he said he was happy for
us.
We knew better.
When this past Sunday's game loomed
near, I felt him. He was there when
Randall Cunningham made all of
Packerdom wince by leading his team 96
yards on their opening drive for a
touchdown.
He saw Antwan Edwards' interception
return and when Randy Moss caught what
appeared to be the winning touchdown, he
was smiling. But when Brett Favre threw the real winning touchdown with 12 seconds on the clock, he was laughing. We always knew better.