I don't remember exactly how I became a Vikings fan as a kid. My earliest memory of it is playing knee football with my brother in the hallway of our first house, with me wearing a Herschel Walker jersey.

I know my grandpa has been a huge fan since the team was founded in 1961, passing down the fandom to my dad, who got to see the Vikes play in (and lose) four Super Bowls as a teenager.

Naturally, I was excited for my kid to be old enough to watch football with me on Sunday afternoons. The snacks, the lounging, wearing purple- the whole bit.

Charlie is almost three and this year he has shown a passing interest in watching football with daddy. "Go Bikeens!" he proclaims randomly, sometimes after another humiliating mistake by the Purple.

During the Vikings' latest loss to the Colts, I started to feel guilty about making him a Minnesota fan. Here I had a blank slate standing in front of me with an endless selection of competent teams to choose from.

Defending champion Kansas City, upstart Baltimore with Lamar Jackson, heck even the Packers, who are capable of actually winning a Super Bowl (two in fact!) during my lifetime.

Selfishly, I took this beautiful canvas and painted it purple and gold. I feel gross about it.

A lifetime of letdowns, of being close but never good enough. A lifetime of frustration, of wondering why you even bother with this team. I feel like I have sentenced him to some sort of existential prison.

Am I a bad parent for making my kid a Vikings fan?

Old Holdingford Chuch Converted Into Private Home

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