Green Bay 38, Minnesota 10:  my fondest Vikings memory.

By way of explaining how I could possibly refer to a bad loss at the hands of a hated rival in such a manner, I wonder if I might deviate from my typical Vikings Time Machine custom of recapping a bygone football game and be allowed simply to tell you a story.

It's the story of a trip I took with my buddy Tom a few days before Christmas in 1996, shortly after we both turned 19.  It's the entire story of the Vikings and the Packers, really, encapsulated in one short weekend.  And it's the best story I can give you about being a sports fan.

* * *

It was once said of the late Pauline Kael, for decades an influential and well-respected film critic at The New Yorker, that a movie simply wasn't a complete experience until you'd read her review of it. In much the same way, schoolchildren in Marshall, Minnesota in the late '80s and early '90s could hardly consider having experienced a Minnesota Vikings game until they'd gotten my buddy Tom's reaction to it the following day.  I remember a particularly (and, given the nature of the loss, appropriately) vivid display of emotion one winter morning twenty years ago, after the Vikings were beaten by the Browns in Cleveland on a fake field goal in overtime, of all things.  I wouldn't quite say that Tom and I lived and died with the Vikings (nobody who does that could survive for long), but the Vikings were certainly an integral part of our friendship.  Of our childhood, really.

And what goes hand-in-hand with loving the Minnesota Vikings?  Why, hating the Green Bay Packers, of course.  And if one's business was hating the Packers, then during my formative years as a football fan business was good.  The Packers hadn't made the postseason since 1982 (when I was too young to care), and had managed to win exactly one playoff game since beating the Oakland Raiders in Super Bowl II.  They were barely even a real team; they played half their games in Milwaukee, for heaven's sake!  There were even a couple of gloriously bad 4-12 seasons for the Packers when I was a kid, sprinkled in among a few almost-but-not-quite years.

What turned things around for the Green Bay franchise?  Well, if you're bothering to read this then you don't need me to tell you it was the acquisition of a little-known quarterback out of Southern Mississippi named Brett Favre.  Favre replaced an injured Don Majkowski in Week 3 of the 1992 and, after a so-so start, led the Packers to six consecutive late-season wins, a streak that was snapped by the Vikings in the final game of the year with a decisive 27-7 win that, delightfully, kept Green Bay out of the playoffs.

But the Packers got better.  And they kept getting better, while the Vikings did not; from 1991 until 2000 the Vikings never had a losing season, but they also never won two playoff games in a row. Over the course of the decade, as the Vikings continued to bring in some of the best quarterbacks of the mid-to-late '80s (Jim McMahon, Warren Moon, Randall Cunningham), Brett Favre spent the bulk of the 1990s becoming a huge, huge star, a beloved national figure, a guy who -- as announcers have yet to tire of telling us -- "still looks like a kid out there," "just loves to have fun," and "plays the game like it was meant to be played."

For some reason I love hearing that stuff about Brett Favre now, but back then I hated it.

* * *

Packer Mania may well have peaked in 1996 when, despite a humbling Metrodome loss to the Vikings (naturally), Green Bay got off to an impressive 8-1 start during which they were rarely challenged and clearly deserved consideration as one of the best teams in the league.

The Vikings, though, started 5-1 that year and had yet to begin their customary late-season collapse when Tom and I, off to different colleges two time zones apart but staying in touch via something called "e-mail," noted that on December 22, right in the middle of Christmas break, the Vikings would be travelling to Green Bay.

And so, therefore, would we.

The notion of buying things over the Internet was in its infancy back in the fall of 1996, but we nevertheless secured two tickets to the game (as part of a package that also offered two free admissions to the Packers Hall of Fame, which to Tom and I may as well have been East Berlin) and the phone number of a perfectly nice (if "cozy") Green Bay hotel.  This was it:  Tom and I were going to make the 10-hour drive from southwestern Minnesota to Green Bay, Wisconsin and, on December 22, we were going to enter the belly of the beast. We were going to Lambeau Field as Vikings fans.

We survived the icy winter drive across the bulk of the Central Time Zone and found our hotel in a quiet, unassuming area of Green Bay (i.e., "in Green Bay").  I noticed that a local publication had a cover story on brand new Packers wide receiver Andre Rison, and I couldn't help but think that when the local media is putting out glowing features on Andre Rison, you know two things for sure:  you know you're in a town that really, really loves its football team, and you know that football team must be doing tremendously well.

Tom and I checked in, dropped off our bags, threw on our Cris Carter jerseys and it was off to dinner.  The city of Green Bay did not disappoint; the very first person we encountered after leaving our hotel room was a manager at Applebee's, and as he saw us walk through the front door he growled, with a noble attempt at mock disgust, "What are you guys doing?"

The evening somewhat remarkably passed without incident (the Packers were better than the Vikings that season and everybody knew it, including Tom and me, so perhaps two young punks in Vikings attire strolling around town didn't raise the ire of the Green Bay faithful quite like it would have during, say, one of those aforementioned 4-12 seasons) and before we knew it, it was Sunday.

It was time.  Time to make the pilgrimage to the football Mecca that is Green Bay's Lambeau Field. Every NFL fan should get such a chance to experience such a trip, and to see your favorite team play there on a freezing December afternoon, well … it's difficult to imagine a better moment in a football fan's life.  Off to the stadium the two of us went.

* * *

At this point I must tell you how crucial it is, if you plan on attending a live sporting event, to make sure that you do so with Tom.  We live in different parts of the country now and don't get to any games anymore, but back when we were in school Tom was, and I can only assume he remains, indispensible.

Tom and I once went up to Minneapolis for a late-'90s Twins-Pirates game (I'd love to come up with an analogy to explain how dreary an affair that was, but the problem with that is as follows:  if I were trying to describe something that was exceedingly dreary, I'd be telling you that it was "as dreary as a late-'90s Twins-Pirates game").  We took our seats in the left field section just a few rows from the field and, young troublemakers that we were, resolved to heckle and holler at whomever the Pirates had playing there.  When Pittsburgh took the field in the top of the first inning, however, I noticed with dismay the name "Smith" stitched across the back of their left fielder's jersey.  I was just beginning to think of how difficult it would be to make anything out of that, of how our plans for the afternoon may have come to a screeching halt, when the dull, quiet hum of the sparsely populated Metrodome was interrupted by Tom's loud baritone shouting out, "Hey Smitty, we're gonna run all day on your pus arm!"

When some friends and I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to go to a Vikings-Buccaneers game during our senior year in high school, Tom saw someone he thought he recognized as we walked toward the stadium.  The man was painted up in Vikings colors and was clearly insane, but Tom shouted, "didn't I see you at the Green Bay game?"  (We had indeed seen the same fan a month earlier at what Viking fans remember with affection and Packer fans remember with horror as "The T.J. Rubley Game").  Before we knew it the two of them were screaming and chest-bumping their way into the Metrodome and, in what I can't imagine is a coincidence, the Vikings ended up beating Tampa Bay by two touchdowns.

Tom is also the guy who, when we were walking around inside the Metrodome concourse prior to a Twins-Yankees game, glanced up at a TV monitor displaying the starting pitchers and exclaimed -- casually, as if he weren't coining the single funniest and most effective phrase I've ever heard for expressing how old someone is or how long something has been going on -- "Jimmy Key; boy, he's been pitching since Nam."

So you can see how important it is, if you're going to any kind of sporting event, to have Tom there.

* * *

The game on December 22, 1996 was important to the Packers because a win assured them of home-field advantage throughout the NFC playoffs. It was important to the Vikings simply in the context of the Minnesota-Green Bay rivalry, as the Vikes had already clinched a Wild Card berth.  Tom and I had decided before game that due to the weather conditions the Vikings' most effective strategy would be to keep the high-powered Green Bay offense off the field by protecting the ball and grinding the clock.  We figured the Vikings should be able to eat up yards on the ground with capable backup Leroy Hoard, who was starting at running back in place of the oft-injured Robert Smith (there was a point where I came to believe that "The Oft-Injured Robert Smith" was simply Robert Smith's nickname, much like Reggie Jackson was known as "Mr. October" or Julius Erving was "Dr. J").

It's no leap to say Leroy Hoard was a valuable part of the Vikings during his years in Minnesota.

"Give it to Leroy!"  That was to be our rallying cry.  "Give it to Leroy!;" that was the key to finishing the season at 10-6 (which somehow looks so much better than 9-7), the key to carrying the momentum of a four-game Vikings winning streak into the playoffs. "Give it to Leroy!," and all would be well.

Clad in Vikings purple and gold over several layers of winter clothing, Tom and I took our seats to good-natured jeering of the Packer fans around us.  As we did so I was struck by how small Lambeau Field looks from the inside (in a good way).  Lambeau had almost 61,000 seats at the time, and not one of them was bad.  The wide open, gently sloping bowl design of the stadium makes even those spectators in the very top rows feel like they're right on top of the action.

The Vikings took the opening kickoff and on their second offensive play they followed our advice; Leroy Hoard ran for a 4-yard gain, and shouts of "Give it to Leroy" may well have been heard in certain upper sections of Lambeau Field.  The Vikings would go three-and-out, however -- no surprise, since on third down they declined to give it to Leroy.

On Green Bay's fourth play from scrimmage, after Packers left guard Aaron Taylor was whistled for a false start penalty, Tom yelled out, "He's been getting away with that all game!"  Clearly Tom was firing on all cylinders.

The Vikings defense was not, though, and an Edgar Bennett touchdown run gave the Packers an early 7-0 lead.  At this point Tom and I were entreated by several Green Bay fans to head back to Minnesota, as the rest of the game was undoubtedly a mere formality.  The Vikings answered back, however;  Brad Johnson connected with Cris Carter on a gorgeous 43-yard touchdown pass to tie the game. Tom and I loudly wondered to each other why the players were still on the field, as after the first Packers touchdown we'd been informed that the game was over.

And if we were unpopular in the Lambeau Field stands at that point, then I'm surprised we even survived when the Packers fumbled away the ensuing kickoff.  The Vikings had the ball, had excellent field position and were about to take the lead.  This was going to be great.  Freezing our butts off, surrounded by angry Packer backers, too young yet as Vikings fans to have learned about the grave dangers of hope and expectation; how could things get any better?

Well, they didn't, that's how.  The Vikings went three-and-out and, what's more, after yet another underwhelming run by Leroy Hoard it began to seem as though one Packer fan a few rows in front of us may have been inspired by Hoard's early struggles to use our own "Give it to Leroy" battle cry against us.  I know!  The nerve!

Green Bay fumbled again early in the second quarter, and again the Vikings couldn't take advantage on offense.  It, as it were, continued to be given to Leroy (and other Vikings) with varying degrees of ineffectiveness, and a Chris Jacke field goal eventually gave the Packers a 10-7 lead.  Shortly thereafter a well-executed 87-yard Vikings scoring drive culminated in a field goal on the final play of the first half, tying the game at 10.  I suspect Tom and I would have reacted far less boisterously to that kick if we'd known that those three points would be the last ones the Vikings would score all day.

Desmond Howard returned the second half kickoff 40 yards to set up a discouragingly effortless drive finished off by a touchdown pass from Favre to Dorsey Levens.  The Vikings were trailing 17-10.  But they'd been down before, hadn't they?  And they'd come back to tie the score in each instance, right?

Not this time.  After a screen pass from Johnson to Hoard went for a nice 18-yard gain (Tom and me:  "Yeah, Leroy!"), Hoard was stuffed for no gain on the subsequent play (Packer fan a few rows down:  "Ooo, Leroy! …") and two incomplete passes later the Vikings were punting yet again.

After that it didn't take long for any hopes Tom and I had of a crushing, enthusiasm-ruining, playoff-momentum-derailing upset to vanish into the frigid Wisconsin air as the Packers marched right down the field for another score.  Favre found local hero Andre Rison in the end zone for his first touchdown catch as a Packer, Green Bay had a 24-10 lead, and a certain Packer fan could be heard wondering, in essence, what Leroy was going to do about it.

The Vikings responded with a 4-yard drive and a punt, after which the Packers took a 31-10 lead on a touchdown pass from Favre to Keith Jackson (the veteran tight end, not the elderly college football announcer.  Although Keith Jackson the announcer would probably have been able to score on the Vikings defense that day as well).

The fourth quarter had just begun and the Vikings trailed by three touchdowns; stranger things have indeed happened, but a comeback looked unlikely.  And there's not much you can say -- not much even Tom can say -- when your team gives up 21 unanswered points to a hated rival and you have little choice but to sit there and watch it all unfold.

Still, Brad Johnson did manage to move the Vikings into Green Bay territory with a couple of passes to Jake Reed …

And that's when it happened.  The Vikings offensive line pushed back the Packers rush and, like the clouds parting to let in the sunlight, a large hole opened up in the Green Bay defense and through that hole burst none other than Leroy Hoard.  As he ran untouched all the way to the Green Bay 40 yard-line Tom and I, summoning our last remaining reserves of enthusiasm, cheered Leroy on and yelled his name to the heavens.

And then he fumbled.

The great Reggie White stripped the ball from him, to be precise, and Green Bay recovered it.

Our Packer fan friend from a few rows down turned around and shouted, "Ooooooh, LEEEEROY!"

That got a pretty good reaction from the surrounding crowd, and the two of us were done.  Tom was rattled; he had nothing.  And I don't respect him any less for it; all the greats have off days.  Michael Jordan occasionally missed a game-winning shot.  Babe Ruth was once caught stealing for the final out of Game 7 of the World Series.  It happens to the best of them.

Green Bay would add another touchdown for a 38-10 win that was more a coronation of the Packers as the best team in the NFL than a mere end-of-the-season victory over a divisional foe.  Tom and I half-heartedly told a few Packer fans on the way out of the stadium that the Vikings would "be back here later on in the playoffs," but we both knew they probably wouldn't.

The only thing I still regret about the entire experience was the fact that I put on my winter coat over my Vikings jersey to avoid further confrontation as we walked to the car after the game.  A good fan should take his medicine, which I declined to do.  I was young.  Live and learn.

The Packers, as we all remember, went on to win the Super Bowl a month later.  The Vikings went on to never win the Super Bowl, ever.  Still, despite the Vikings loss, despite the bitter cold, despite the taunts from opposing fans and despite the Leroy Hoard fumble (OK, maybe a little bit because of the Leroy Hoard fumble), my experience at Lambeau Field remains the highlight of my sports fan life.

Green Bay 38, Minnesota 10:  my fondest Vikings memory.

--JOE MULDER