LONDON — His father thinks he’s nuts. As in: Seriously, Matt? You’re going to take the four-hour train ride south from Hessle to London for this?
Matt understands. His father is a rugby loyalist and prideful man who played the sport and thinks American football is a just silly offshoot. That’s what Matt used to think, too. Why lie about it? Who were these players? Why did so many people in that other country care? He wondered, and then one afternoon he turned on the television for fun.
The purple and gold team was playing the gold and black team. There were lots of starts and lots of stops, and the clock was ticking down for some reason rather than up. He kept watching. For what reason? To this day, he is still not entirely sure. The game neared its end, and the purple and gold team received one final chance. The thrower of the football hurled a pass toward the right side of the screen, and the receiver leaped and not only caught the pass but also spun.
He sprinted forward. The announcers screamed. He raised the ball into the air and held his arms out wide as if he was taking a bow. The announcers screamed uncontrollably. The receiver tossed his helmet. Players hugged each other. Music played. The fans were going berserk. Matt couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. It was as if the joy on the screen had reached out from the television and snatched him, too. He liked this. No, he loved this.
“The Minneapolis Miracle,” Matt says, “it got me.”
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He is sitting at a round wooden table inside of a modern pub in London and smiling thinking about the genesis of his NFL intrigue. Two of his college buddies who joined him on his four-hour train ride from Hessle, Josh and Jack, are laughing.
Years ago, had you explained that they would be here downing pints and waiting to watch an American football game at Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, they would have thought you had plucked them with an arcade-like crane and dropped them into a different dimension.
Now here they are, wearing Justin Jefferson jerseys, clinking glasses in the corner of this pub, and rehashing how they got into this in the first place.
“It had sort of been in the back of my mind a bit,” Jack says. “I had a little bit of an interest in it.”
“And you came to the game two years ago,” Josh says to Jack, “and it kind of got my interest to it.”
“Then we started going down to the pub to watch it,” Matt says.
“And there’s a guy that I work with who supports the Commanders,” Josh says.
“The Commanders,” Matt says, shaking his head.
“Not good,” says Jack.
“But this year …” Josh says.
Sunday visits to their local pubs helped them learn the game. Sky Sports’ addition of an NFL-specific channel eased their want to tune in further. In the offseasons, they watch “Good Morning Football.” During the seasons, they sip coffee late early in the morning to view the prime-time matches.
They’re not alone, either. Sitting in a booth steps away is Ville-Pekka, a young man who flew three hours from Finland. He followed the NHL’s Minnesota Wild. Once his friends kept badgering him to watch the sport where humans collide with one another on grass instead of ice, he stuck with the Minnesota team. Across the bar is Will Harrison, who was paying attention more than a decade ago when the purple and gold team’s old quarterback tossed a pass across the field that was ultimately intercepted by the black and gold team.
London, let’s get it! #Skol pic.twitter.com/TxAyYaj5Gj
— Minnesota Vikings (@Vikings) October 5, 2024
When they all began watching, they had questions. Such as: Why would you start the game, kick the ball off and then pause for nearly a minute before the action continued? To this day, some of them still have questions. Such as: Why are there so many nit-picky rules? Do the referees have to pause the game so often? What constitutes a holding penalty versus a good block? Why are the Thursday night games so hard to watch?
Maybe they just aren’t in the know, they say. Maybe if they were in America they’d understand. Or maybe Americans see these things, too. Regardless, they put their qualms aside to root for their team that is somehow 4-0.
Matt thinks so much of this has to do with coach Kevin O’Connell, and how different he is from former Vikings coach Mike Zimmer.
“We even say it about football here,” Matt says, “but that overbearing style of coaching just doesn’t work anymore.”
Jack and Josh nod.
“Players need someone who is going to encourage ‘em rather than scream,” Matt says.
Ville-Pekka mentions defensive coordinator Brian Flores and describes how he cannot understand Flores’ strategy.
“I just hope nobody figures out how to beat it,” he says.
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They talk about Jefferson’s magic tricks as a receiver and quarterback Sam Darnold’s unexpected performance. Matt, Jack and Josh pull out their phones to show their group text messages sent a few weeks ago when Darnold reared back and chunked the ball downfield to Jefferson, who sliced across the field and raced into the end zone.
“Very happy with this start,” Jack says.
“It’s been very good,” Josh adds.
Matt is about to share his thoughts, then he pauses, and his friends know what’s coming.
“There’s still some skepticism with it,” Matt acknowledges. “Watching it for a few years, and learning about the past as well, I’ve come to temper expectations.”
This comment is both confirming and revelatory. Its clear full-hearted optimism is as core to being a Vikings fan as knowing The Miracle and Brett Favre’s interception. It’s also evident that the beauty in rooting for this team goes beyond the coach and the players and the highlights and the energy — it’s also about the pursuit.
Someday, the purple and gold will attain the ultimate prize. And by then, maybe Matt will even have his father cheers’ing, too.
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(Photo: Zac Goodwin / PA Images via Getty Images)
