I blame myself.

Around 2 p.m. mountain time yesterday, I felt elated. I was watching the Vikings own Rex Grossman. I was watching Mewelde Moore battle--no, juke, jive, spin, claw--for an impossible first down against the vaunted Bears defense, then do one of the more entertaining celebrations in recent memory, crawling for more yardage after the play. And then, in a move of utter stupidity, I said to myself, "I don't believe it, the Vikings are gonna win this thing." I then spent the next hour reenacting Chris Farley in an old SNL sketch, constantly repeating,

"I blame myself."

Now, I'm not a superstitious man. Far from it. I do happen to believe that God is not a Vikings fan, but beyond that, all bets are off. But lets look back at some of the more memorable highlights of the last few years of my football fandom:

January 1999. The Purple handed a shellacking to the entire NFL that year, going 15-1 and cruising to the NFC championship game. In the last week of the regular season, they beat the division-leading Jaguars by a score of 50-3. 50-3! Then Atlanta rolls into the Metrodome. Gary Anderson misses the only field goal of the year. Denny Green, who has the most potent offense in NFL history up to that point, inexplicably kneels with over a minute remaining to send the game to overtime. Duh. Falcons win, they go to the Super Bowl.

January 2001. I don't really know how it happened, but the Vikes found themselves in the NFC championship again, this time facing the Giants. This one, in a perverse sort of mercy, never got off the ground. The beatdown we received was so bad that the only conceivable explanation was that they were stealing our play calls. 48-0, the Giants go to the Super Bowl.

January 2004. The Vikes start the season 6-0, then stumble to 9-6 with one game remaining. Win, and we make the playoffs. Luckily, our opponent was the lowly Arizona Cardinals, led by the dreadful Josh McCown. With time dwindling in the fourth quarter, McCown leads the worst team in football that year down the field and scores a miraculous touchdown on fourth and 20-something with no time remaining. The Vikings go home.

I blame myself for thinking that my team could ever have a game in the bag with time remaining on the clock. What happens? Fumble, Bears recover, suddenly Grossman looks unstoppable (of course he does), chucks the game-winning touchdown. Vikings lose.

After the game, as I was pouting, my wife said, "Honey, this is the Vikings." This coming from a woman who just last year had to have the concept of a first down explained to her. And even she knew better than I did that the Vikings will always choke in big situations. I spent the next ten minutes trying to lay out all the points of why I think that this Vikings team is different. New coaches, new attitude, new ownership, whatever. It didn't matter for jack when the game was on the line. This is still the same franchise whose biggest favor to me as a fan was losing their four Super Bowl appearances before I was born. Thanks a lot guys. If you need me I'll be slamming my head in a car door.

But will I learn? Heck no.

I'll be cheering for my Purple just as loud next week when they go to Buffalo. Even now I'm searching for signs of hope, and there are plenty. This game had no direct playoff implications. We took one of the elite teams in the NFL down to the wire. The defense looked fantastic for 57 minutes. We're still 2-1 through a brutal first three weeks of the season. I guess this is the life of a fan. We'll gladly take innumerable stabs to the chest just to hold onto the hope that someday the joy of seeing our team win it all will be worth it.

Just make it quick boys.