Childress has bent quite a bit from his "my way or the highway" demeanor out of necessity during the Brett Favre Era. He hopefully entered into that marriage in 2009 knowing he would have to be flexible; if he didn't, he quickly learned. But while Favre might be a master manipulator who takes subtle shots at the state of affairs off the field -- nothing as frontal as Moss, but still notable -- the effort he brings between the lines is one thing that should never be questioned. Love or hate Favre for the drama he seemingly adores -- again, both on and off the field -- he is the ultimate competitor (as cliched as that sounds, it's true). At the end of the day, that has to mean a lot to Childress.
Moss, of course, is not like that. He loves to win, but he drifts. When things aren't going his way, he doesn't double his effort. He cuts it in half. The replays from New England didn't lie. When he was double-covered and jammed at the line, he was coming off the ball at less than full speed. On the single-coverage play where he finally beat his man and drew pass interference, he jogged through the rest of his route and probably cost the Vikings a TD on the play (one, mind, you, that would have saved Favre from getting knocked out from a blow to the chin a couple plays later).
The Sunday post-game stuff surely couldn't have helped. But we're guessing that if Childress saw Moss play with a passion equal to the love he seemingly had for the Patriots in that rambling diatribe, No. 84 would still be in purple. Should Childress have known all these things about Moss when he brought him in? Of course. The more you think about it, the more you realize it was just a poor fit from the start. Now it's over, and time will tell if releasing him was a better or worse idea than signing him in the first place.