And now Joe Kapp.
Joe Kapp, who threw the football like a loaf of bread and lowered his head and ran over guys when you could still lower your head and run over guys, and behaved like no NFL quarterback you ever saw. He played quarterback the way a longshoreman would, is what he did.
Or an ironworker. Or a coal miner. Or Joe Szymanski from the local works, sweatin' out third trick in that maw of hell they called a steel mill.
Blue-collar all the way, that was Joe Kapp. And this week he passed, and two months ago Bud Grant the Emperor of the North passed, and the question is, why is God so hot at the Minnesota Vikings?
Because, listen, Grant roaming the sideline in his parka and Kapp manning the offense with two clenched fists were the Vikings, back in the day.Bud never won a Super Bowl, and Joe lost the only one he played in to the Chiefs and their yippy chihuahua of a coach, Hank Stram. But you knew you'd been in a fight when you played them.
Most iconic photo in Vikings history, aside from Bud and his great stone face on the sideline?
Joe Kapp calling signals with a dusting of snow atop his helmet, like snow on a Halloween pumpkin.
And now he's gone. And Bud Grant is gone. And, dammit, I'm not 13 or 14 years old anymore, watching Joe and Bud and Alan Page and Jim Marshall beat up on my poor Bears every Sunday afternoon in the fall.
Never mind the Vikings, Lord. Why are you so hot at me?
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