With the wrench of a facemask, the Minnesota Vikings may be done for in 2024. Too early to call, you may say? Not so, according to recent history. 

Since the Minneapolis Miracle, the Vikings have been chasing an ethereal, crowd-roaring high. Either that, or they’re just plain undisciplined. How else can we explain the remarkable glut of 1-score games they’ve found themselves in?

But now, coming off of a 30–20 loss to the Rams and with a rosy 5–0 start now a distant memory, the year is quickly getting spooky for Minnesota.

Remember that small, snowy town in “Fargo” where everything goes awry? Imagine it was invaded by a group of purple people-eating monsters — towering behemoths, both strong and smart enough to detect and diffuse every potential defense mechanism.

All except for one tiny trick.

Flip.

Let me just go ahead and turn the lights on. That’s it. Even a flashlight should do, and the purple people-eaters ought to leave you alone. Almost anyone could stave them off in the clutch — at least if your Wonderlic score is high enough. And when they fold, they melt like the Wicked Witches of the NFC North. Under the lights, the Vikings will wilt and shrivel as would an Uncrustable in the car wash.

These Minnesota Vikings are different, you say? Different from the Vikings of the 2000s with Daunte Culpepper and Randy Moss? Well, the first thing that comes to mind from that period is Packers wide receiver Antonio Freeman doing witchcraft against the Vikings in 2000 to keep the football off the ground and win the game. Those Vikings were good, just not good enough to beat Brett Favre and the Cheeseheads.

So, what did the Vikings do? Surely they looked towards the draft and used data driven football operations to cultivate a young homegrown quarterback talent to rival that of their division rivals. Ha, nope. They just went and maneuvered themselves into getting decrepit Favre. They even waited for him to marinate and get thoroughly pulverized in Green Bay for a football eternity before creaking his way over to Minnesota.

Just as the Vikings tried to jumpstart success while trying to see how far they could “purchase” the future, the welfare wizard himself came through with the anti-Minneapolis Miracle. Against the New Orleans Saints in the 2009 NFC Championship Game, the veteran Favre, who had ended countless prior Green Bay Packer postseason runs with mind numbingly inane interception heaves, tossed a horrific duck to a Saints defensive back to lose the game. It was a moment that only fit into Vikings lore: the hated Brett Favre came into town one last time, but this time he wore the purple jersey and still managed to spite the fans, to hurt them even deeper than he ever could have in green, white, and yellow.

Seeing any ghosts yet, Sam Darnold? It’s been a while since he excoriated the demons he saw against the Patriots some years back, but the Vikings have some QB demons of their own. And around Halloween, they come out to roam. After a dream 1998 year, Randall Cunningham’s wheels fell off in 1999, and the Vikings moved right along. And Jeff George, who had the snappiest arm in NFL history, never grew up in Minnesota or ultimately anywhere across the NFL. Today, Darnold’s a seasoned veteran, a calm leader — one with confidence but a markedly limited ceiling. The Vikings are familiar with the situation. Brad Johnson, anyone?

I’m not saying that the Vikings are cooked for the season, but I’m not confident in much else otherwise. We’ve heard things about Brian Flores that might lead us to believe that he’s not exactly the most cheery guy in tense situations, and I’m unsure as to what top secret, classified New England Patriots-certified coaching methods Kevin O’Connell is crafting up.

But the Vikings are still the Vikings. Like in 1969, back when Berkeley’s Joe Kapp threw seven touchdown strikes against the Colts in the season’s second game and led the Vikings to the Super Bowl against the Chiefs. They lost, Minnesota cheaped out, didn’t pay Kapp, and let him walk out of the door. It must have taken confidence for the former CFL quarterback to hold out, but it’s hard to see a similar situation playing out in 2024. They’d just pay him and set the league standard, and it would move right along.

But winning in the NFL has always been about setting the curve, not following historical trends. And like in “Fargo,” Viking football too often feels like a team of Jerry Lundergaards, where the whole deal feels just a couple plays away from the whole thing falling apart. No, there is no escape from history. Not for Minnesota, and not this year. To make good with their past will take time, which alone can bury the prancing playoff ghosts of a cold Vikings past, and, one day, send the purple people-eaters onward to achieve their long awaited glory.