The Minnesota Vikings have evolved. Once a house of ill repute, now Vikingdom can accurately be described as a grown-up business run by grown-up humans.
They are no longer owned by an entity described as the "Gang of 10," a euphemism for "10 Angry Men," or a Texan billionaire carpetbagger bleating buzzwords before stripping the franchise to its studs.
They are no longer run by a general manager, Mike Lynn, who, if he wasn't racist, certainly found a way to persuade many of his Black players that he was.
They are no longer run by a coach who sold his Super Bowl tickets (Mike Tice) or dependent on a player who bumped a cop with his car and walked off the field during a game (Randy Moss).
They no longer terrorize a stretch of Interstate 494 by driving while impaired or acting like it, as they did in the late '80s.
The Wilfs have developed into quality owners. Kwesi Adofo-Mensah and Kevin O'Connell are likable. Kirk Cousins increased his likability with the 2022 season and his shrewd decision to document himself as a family man with a high pain tolerance in the "Quarterback" documentary series on Netflix.
The roster, coaching staff and football operations department are, if such generalities are meaningful, filled with professionals. They have built a remarkable training center to go with their remarkable football stadium, and their reputation as good actors in the community has improved. (Of course, they've also made a huge amount of money because the public funded their stadium.)
So why would they risk their burnished reputation for the sake of a declining backup running back?