41-DONUT’S OPEN LETTER TO VIKINGS FANS

For the better part of two decades, I’ve had to live with endless ridicule. I’ve attended endless self-help classes. I even enrolled in an on-line course at the University for Self-Esteem Lift-Off, from which Stuart Smalley received his doctorate.

I’ve been the butt of every joke imaginable. I’ve been mocked by friends and strangers alike. People don’t even have to say who played in my game.

Thanks to Randy Moss, who coined me, they just said, ‘‘Forty-one donut,’’ and every football fan, certainly every Vikings fan, understood the shorthand for the Vikings versus the Giants, Jan. 14, 2001, Meadowlands Stadium, for the right to advance to the Super Bowl.

I ain’t gonna lie. It started out bad, got progressively more grotesque. First, the laser-focused Moss got into a tiff with security folks trying to get a couple of his buddies on the field. Then the game began. First play from scrimmage, Kerry Collins completed a 16-yard pass to Amani Toomer. On the second play, he completed a 10-yard pass to Toomer. On the fourth play, he completed a 46-yard pass to Ike Hilliard for a touchdown.

On the ensuing kickoff return, Moe Williams fumbled. The Giants recovered at the Vikings’ 18. On the next play from scrimmage, Collins completed an 18-yard pass to Greg Comella and it was, well, 14-donut after two minutes, seven seconds, and the game was essentially over.

The Giants scored 20 more points in the second quarter and another seven in the third. In the fourth, they tried NOT to score. The Giants, leading 41-dounut, took possession at their own 20 with 12:53 to go. They then kept the ball on the ground for 15 of the next 16 plays before three conseucutive kneel-downs by the Giants backup QB starting at the Vikings’ 24-yard line, to end the game. They had the ball for the last 13 minutes.

So, yeah, it was bad. It was embarrassing. It was mind-blowing. In the week leading up to me, Denny Green, staff and players privately made it clear they thought overconfidence was their only enemy.

They not only expected to win, they expected to win easy.

But if my on-line Self-Esteem course ---- and I did all of my own work, I promise ---- has taught me anything, it is that I need to stand up for myself. So I woke up today feeling the best I’ve felt about me in oh, 17 years.

Today, I demand an apology.

They tell me that in the Apolodazzle culture of the day, everybody is demanding one. Everybody needs a safe space. So I want mine.

See, I think, 38-7 (does it have a name yet? Philly Flop? Skol Scaldings? 38-7 doesn’t really roll off the tongue) last night in Philadelphia was more embarrassing than me. Certainly more injurious. And far more inexcusable.

I submit to you that by the time I am done with this lecture, you will consider the unthinkable:

That, 41-donut is almost respectable.

First of all, I don’t recall Giants fans wearing dog-masks, or mocking any Vikings chants.

Second, I think 38-7 was crueler, because what came before it was that thing you call the Minneapolis Miracle, which got everybody’s hopes up that finally rarified air could be breathed by the Vikings and their fans. All was possible, including hosting the Super Bowl. In 2000, the Vikings got to the NFC title game with a fairly non-descript 34-16 victory over, believe or not, the Saints. They entered the NFC title game that year 2 1/2 point underdogs. These Vikings were favored by 3 1/2 in Philly.

(Yes, the 2000 Vikings should have been able to at least show up offensively, but the 2017 Vikings were considered far better balanced than the 2000 Vikings, the better team.)

Third, so far there is no accusation that the Eagles intercepted the radio signals of the offensive and defensive calls from the visiting sidelines, the way the Giants supposedly did.

Fourth, the Vikings defense that rolled into the Meadowlands had given up 104 points in its last three games, all losses, as that team backed into the playoffs. The 2017 Vikings gave up 87 points ---- in its last seven, with the Vikings winning six.

The 2017 Vikings defense was supposed to be all-world, ranked No. 1 in the league in total defense and points allowed, choreographed by a defensive savant. Media jackals worked overtime to search for a worthy nickname. They were constantly quoting former Purple People Eater greats such as Alan Page, Carl Eller and Johnny Randle.

Trust me when I tell you nobody was searching out Page, Eller and Randle in 2000. The 2000 Vikings were ranked 28th in total defense, 24th in points allowed. Starting corners were Wasswa Serwanga and Robert Tate. Enough said.

So what’s worse: The 2000 Vikings yielding 41? Or the 2017 Vikings yielding 38 unaswered? The 2000 Vikings giving up 518 yards or these Vikings of Mike Zimmer and Harrison Smith and Anthony Barr yielding 456? In Philly, against a team that was supposed to only be able to throw short, the Vikings gave up a 53-yarder, a 41-yarder and a 36-yarder. And the short stuff. And 10 of 14 third-down conversions. This historic defense never really planted its feet and took a stand. It didn’t even look prepared to play.

Yes, the 2000 Vikings should have been able to at least show up offensively, but the 2017 Vikings were considered far better balanced, the far better team.

Kerry Collins, the Giants quarterback in my game, and Nick Foles, the Eagles quarterback last night, both looked like a combination of Unitas and Montana against the Vikings. Neither is headed for the Hall, but at least Collins was in his sixth year as a NFL starter, and would start for another six. Foles is keeping the seat warm for Carson Wentz.

For the record: Collins’ QB rating was 120.8. Foles’ was 141.4.

And then there’s this, I think my most persuasive argument of all: These 2017 Vikings played so abominably, opening up their fans to such widespread abuse, that when half of Philadelphia comes to soil their state for Super Bowl 52, Minnesotans will be cheering unreservedly for the AFC team everybody else outside of Massachusetts can no longer abide.