Was euch das Innre stört, dürft ihr nicht leiden.
That which disturbs your soul, you must not suffer
— Johnann Wolfgang von Goethe
Green Bay Packers fans around Wisconsin, the country and indeed the globe doubtlessly just saw what happened in Minneapolis yesterday. So there is no need to rehash that.
Because of that one broken play, it is now effectively a foregone conclusion that there will be a Vikings-Patriots Super Bowl. Brace for impact: for the worst nightmare scenario imaginable.
The Philadelphia Eagles are not beating the Minnesota Vikings without Carson Wentz. They were after all underdogs against the Atlanta Falcons at home. And the Jacksonville Jaguars rolled a flawed, badly-coached Pittsburgh Steelers team, as this game further places Mike Tomlin’s coaching prowess in question as just some guy who rode the coattails of Bill Cowher. They will have no such luck against the Patriots in New England.
This scenario presents a true dilemma. One should never want to see the Vikings win, ever. But I hate the Patriots about as much as the Vikings. And it does not help that with a sixth Super Bowl title under the same quarterback and coach, the Patriots will be out of reach of the Packers ever catching up. Even if Aaron Rodgers wins two more Super Bowls, which now seems less than probable, that will be half as many as Tom Brady.
And in case there is any confusion on the matter, my hatred for the Minnesota Vikings burns as bright as it burns true. I hate the Vikings, Vikings fans, and if you are a Vikings fan or want the Vikings to win a Super Bowl championship, I hate you, too. With every fiber of my being, to my last breath on this planet.
Many find the story about 99-year-old Millie Wall attending her first Vikings playoff game endearing. Right-thinking Packers fans should only find this endearing if the Vikings lost, and if in absolutely heart-breaking fashion, the better. A hatred for the Vikings so strong it turns your heart against little old ladies: this is the proper standard by which all Packers fans should abide precisely because they are the enemy. We do not want to see her team win a Super Bowl, as we hope they go another 50 years without a championship, and another 100 years after that.
But now absent a miracle, that is now a probability — either that or Tom Brady and the Patriots win a record sixth Super Bowl championship. One can almost hear the sycophant announcers and analysts pontificating with gushing praise, replete with a slobbering sort of lisp faintly reminiscent of Sylvester the Cat.
The best strategy is not to watch at all. Forsake the rest of the NFL postseason, to minimize the degree to which this ugly reality is part of your reality. It worked for this author in the Patriots-Seahawks Super Bowl, and it will now, more or less.
For indeed, “That which disturbs your soul, you must not suffer.”
And for much of the time whatever nasty, odious result comes to fruition really will not affect you.