Minnesotans, your word of the day is “recrudescence.”
re·cru·des·cence
/ˌrēkro͞oˈdes(ə)ns/
Noun, formal
The recurrence of an undesirable condition
No, I’m not talking about [gestures out window at all that]. I’m talking about that familiar sinking feeling that may have returned to the pit of your stomach last Sunday in the game against the Indianapolis Colts when the Minnesota Vikings’ can’t-miss rookie kicker sensation Will Reichard, the guy with a range rumored to be nearing 70 yards, did just that — missed the hell of it.
First, he pushed one wide from 50-plus, indoors with no wind, which, according to the burgeoning legend of his prowess, should dang near be a gimme. Then he doinked one off the uprights on a field goal attempt that was barely more than a glorified extra point.
Were we watching a case of the yips bloom in real time? Did Reichard have two wolves inside of him, and unfortunately one was a little wolf Daniel Carlson and the other little wolf Mike Zimmer, berating him into obsolescence?
Then the sideline cameras noticed Reichard wearing a heavy wrap on his kicking leg. He stayed in the game and remained proficient on kickoffs and extra points, but he couldn’t put any weight on his right leg after he booted them.
The good news: The Vikings’ boy wonder of a kicker wasn’t having a real-time meltdown on national television. The bad news: The injury is serious enough that the team placed Reichard on injured reserve earlier this week, meaning he will miss at least the next four weeks.
And then, just for fun, long snapper Andrew DePaola joined Reichard on IR, turning Minnesota’s at-long-last stable kicking operation back into a potential clown show.
That, friends, would be a textbook case of recrudescence.
It’s not an ideal situation. But, as my grandpa used to say, “When God closes a door, he slams it over and over again because he wants to remind you that he’s God and he can do whatever he wants. Maybe consider breaking open a window.”
And there is a window of opportunity here, even if the Vikings might need to force it open. The upside of trying to reassemble your whole kicking operation out of spare parts in the middle of the season is that it also liberates you from the temptation to rely on said kicking operation. It forces you to make bold, tough decisions and trust your high-powered offense.
It forces you to go full Dan Campbell.
The Detroit Lions’ weepy hulk of a head coach has been an object of fascination since he took the top job in the Motor City. He waxed enthusiastic about chewing off the opponents’ kneecaps. He bragged about a caffeine regimen that was straight out of a classic Bill Hicks bit. (“I’m just skin covering coffee!”) He gets choked up like a dad during his daughter’s wedding when trying to describe his affection for Jared Goff.
Campbell also believes in his guys so much that he treats fourth downs like a third-down mulligan.
And Dan Campbell wins football games.
The Vikings are better than even many fans expected this season, maybe a lot better. They’re gunning for the playoffs, and not just in the Midwestern-nice sense that, aw shucks, it sure would be nice just to appear in a Wild Card game. They may not be a league favorite, but they’re in the upper tier of football teams who can play spoiler to just about anybody, who have the potential to go on a hot streak at just the right time. They’re only underdogs when you compare them to the very best the league has to offer. They are contenders.
But there’s one nearly immovable object in their way: The Detroit Lions. Despite lacking the perfect record of the not-entirely-impressive Kansas City Chiefs’ 2024 squad, the Lions feel like the team to beat this year. Certainly they are the bullies of the NFC, standing between Minnesota and a shot at a Super Bowl. The Vikings are going to have to beat the Lions at least once this season, and they may well get two shots at it: on January 5, and perhaps again further into the depths of winter.
In a sense, the Vikings are playing against the Lions every week. Detroit is their ultimate foe in both the division and the conference, looming large even when they’re halfway across the country laying a fifty-burger on some second-class franchise.
The Vikings are never going to catch the Lions, never going to best the Lions, by playing calculated, conservative football. They’re going to have to be coffee-crazed kneecap biters themselves. They’re going to have to stand at the steep precipice of a failed third down and boldly declare, “There’s a ledge beyond the edge!”
The Vikings need to start going for it, on fourth down and in every sense of the expression. They have the high-powered offense to make it work, and the defense to bail them out when it doesn’t. They’re converting third downs at a clip of a little over 40%, while their opponents are converting just over 32% against them. Justin Jefferson is an absolute wizard at hauling in passes just past the sticks when it matters most. T.J. Hockenson is back, baby.
Let’s effin’ go. Go for it on fourth down from the 20. From the 30. From beyond, just because they can. Right now, and for the immediate future, that might be the only viable strategy. It also might force them to develop the kind of hyperbolic aggressiveness that may be essential to vanquishing their most formidable foe.
