There was perpetual giddiness for the Vikings in the '70s. The belief among Minnesotans was the Purple could do no wrong. The only serious obstacle for Bud Grant and his athletes was the officials.
My brother, Mr. Wonderful, and I developed a strategy to take financial advantage of this optimism.
Admittedly, we didn't pick up on this opportunity before the Vikings played Kansas City in their first Super Bowl. What that 23-7 loss did do was cause the Reusse boys to become the first folks to utter the phrase, "Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me."
So, this became our routine on those Sundays when the Vikings won an NFC title game:
We would wait a few hours for the good cheer to spread among the true believers, then head for the saloons of Prior Lake's main street.
Once there, we would begin to poor-mouth the Vikings' chances against the Dolphins, Steelers or Raiders. Soon, the Purple hardcores would become so incensed they would start offering wonderful wagers.
This is true: When the Vikings played the Dolphins of Bob Griese, Larry Csonka and Mercury Morris, the least favorable bet that Mr. Wonderful and I shared was Miami plus 10 points.
The Vikings went into a decline at the end of that decade and so did the giddiness. The '80s and much of the '90s were a time of skepticism for the Purple Faithful.
There were few predictions of greatness uttered by the public as the Vikings reported to Mankato. Even when Dennis Green put his team in the playoffs regularly, the fans understood the season would be short-circuited before the Vikings had their chance to add the long-awaited Super Bowl loss for the thumb.
This all changed in 1998. The exact date was Monday, Oct. 5, when rookie Randy Moss caught five passes worth 190 yards and two touchdowns, and Vikings emphatically ended Green Bay's 29-game Lambeau Field winning streak, 37-24.
A new breed of Vikings follower came to the fore. This group has continued to dominate the public conversation on the Purple eight years later.
These modern Vikings fans convince themselves in the months and the minicamps leading up to Mankato that there will be a winning season ahead. They enter chat rooms to assure one another of the greatness of players named "MeMo" and snatch from nowhere predictions of a 12-4 finish.
And when the reality of mediocrity arrives, the new breed looks for villains to explain this, rather than blaming their naïveté in seeing MeMos as difference-makers rather than backups.
You will have to take my word on this, unless you listen to radio on a specific location on the dial. But in the weeks before the Vikings went to Mankato, and then in the run-up to the season opener, I often asked two questions:
• "Why do people think this team is going to be good?"
• "Why are those people convinced Brad Childress will bring on-field discipline and creativity to the Vikings, when he has no track record as a head coach?"
Turns out, it was the same old answer: naïveté.
And now that the Vikings are 5-7, and this team has been neither disciplined nor creative, August's heroes have become December's demons.
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