Jim Souhan: The new man Moss lightens the mood

Randy Moss plays to the crowd when he wants to play to the crowd.

Ready to run a fly pattern from the podium, Moss, the newest old Viking, answered a question about his previous misadventures in Minneapolis by saying, with a broad grin, "I had a few mixups here, but who didn't? What if I had been on that boat? Then there really woulda been some problems."

If what Moss is saying is that he's a better guy than Fred Smoot, and that he wasn't the only Viking to get into trouble on a Love Boat or other party vessel, who's to argue?

Moss -- the linguist who gave us "I play when I want to play"; "Straight cash, homey"; "Super Bowl, homeboy"; and "Y'all a bunch of ..." -- left 'em laughing Thursday. That's a new strategy for a guy who has left three teams seething. He made his first speaking appearance in Minnesota on Thursday, five years after the Vikings imposed upon him the ultimate indignity in sports -- trading him to the Raiders, the Elba Island of the NFL.

He was blunt, brief, stubborn and funny, batting away one question about his "off-field" problems and admitting he's lost a step.

The word that sounded strange coming from the mouth that has formed so many sneers was "obligated." Moss has been petulant so often, in so many different settings, that we may not have suspected he would ever use a word hinting at the presence of a conscience.

"All I can really say is there is no other place that I would want to get traded to besides Minnesota," he said. "I started here. I feel obligated to this organization for drafting me. At the time it was coach Dennis Green and his group that drafted me, and by me leaving here, it's still a bad taste in my mouth. Very depressed.

Moss, like his new quarterback, can tear apart or build up a team depending on his mood. That's what makes the Vikings' trade with the Patriots a fascinating experiment. Moss is still good enough to elevate the Vikings; he's still unruly enough to blow up the season like a pack of Acme TNT in a Roadrunner cartoon.

What we have now at Winter Park is a Hall of Fame quarterback who doesn't get along with his coach but who loves his new receiver, who, if he doesn't get enough passes thrown his way, could stage a palace coup with the quarterback to get the coach fired, which might suit a front office still reeling from the 12-man-on-the-field penalty that sabotaged a Super Bowl berth.

Or Moss' arrival could energize Brett Favre and create an offense that brings Moss and Brad Childress their first Super Bowl titles and hero status in a state where meter maids must purchase Moss insurance.

You thought Favre was unpredictable? Moss brings every dramatic possibility into play.

Here's the tough question for the Vikings' brass: Do you sign Moss to a contract extension now?

I'd sign him to a short extension. The Vikings are already all in on this season, which could be Favre's last. If Moss is happy, and he and Favre click, both could be back next year. The risks of not signing Moss are greater than those of signing him.

Five years ago, Favre and Moss were Midwestern icons and rivals. Two years ago, they looked to be playing out their careers on the East Coast.

Today, somehow, they're in the same huddle, speaking with distinctly different drawls about the same goals.

As Moss might say, Carpe diem, homey.