EAGAN, Minn. — The chieftain of this ransacking Minnesota Vikings defense takes a seat on a leather sectional in the lounge area outside the locker room. Piece by piece, he starts removing his body armor. There’s the 2XL gloves. There’s the bulky arm brace that resembles something those literal Viking tribesmen wore in the 10th century. Jonathan Greenard tears apart the tape covering his hands and drops the remains into a pile at his feet.
Scars cover his knuckles. A pronounced 2 ½-inch scar is on top of his right hand.
The purple thread on that “V” of his practice jersey is tearing off.
His winter beard is coming in early.
All smiles here, he’s been all pain for opposing quarterbacks this season. Greenard pinpoints the first domino that tipped in his football life, the moment that led to all the carnage we see. He was 5 years old in Hiram, Ga. Playing the glory positions in Pop Warner — running back and linebacker — eyes were always fixated on him. Especially those of his father. That early, Dad would film his games on a camcorder and then the duo meticulously broke down the footage. If Greenard showed any weakness? If he let a smaller player hit him? Dad showed no mercy. It didn’t matter if Jonathan took a handoff 70 yards to the house in the same game.
Once Dad took over as coach, he handed film duties over to Jonathan’s sister. His critiques were never confined to what happened between the whistles, either. Mack Greenard Jr. would catch a “lackadaisical” Jonathan chewing his mouthpiece and lose it. “What are you doing?!” he’d ask. “Fix your pants or something. Look like a football player. Don’t look like a fucking kid out there.” Jonathan’s older brother played center which meant Mack would often set up pass-rushing drills in the middle of the kitchen. Dad beckoned “You better go as hard as you can!” and they’d work to an all-out sweat as dinner went cold.
Of course, this was only the beginning. Greenard would soon get tested in more profound ways throughout his life.
He knows he’s not sitting here without those roots.
“Kids don’t like to be coached or held accountable,” Greenard says, “and I feel like my Dad was that one who did. I’m that same person that I was as a child wanting to be the best, wanting to make sure I critique every little thing about my game.”
Naturally, Greenard was this team’s signature signing last offseason. The coaching is different here.
Which brings us to another scene. Walk inside the locker room and veteran cornerback Stephon Gilmore is a happy man again. The defensive player of the year in New England experienced a totally different world in Indianapolis, Carolina and — most recently — Dallas. Younger players around him refused to work how he worked. He’s seen the game soften over his 13 seasons in the NFL. But he’s more critical of the soft coaching. Gilmore was not impressed by Mike McCarthy in Dallas.
It’s a different story with Vikings DC Brian Flores, whom he knew from their Patriots days.
“There’s a lot of bad football throughout the league,” Gilmore says. “Coaches being soft. Players not being able to take criticism or hard coaching. And it’s showing. So hopefully we can change that back. You miss it when you don’t see it and then you come back to it. You’re like ‘Man, that’s what I was used to when I was winning football games. I’m glad I’m back in that environment.”
Which leads us to another veteran cornerback on the roster. This coaching requires tough men… and a few screws loose. Shaquill Griffin looks around the locker room and shakes his head. He’s not sure why there are so many pissed-off players on his defense, but damn. He likes it. He loves it. He points toward Byron Murphy Jr., the team’s 5-foot-11, 190-pound playmaker.
Earmuffs, kids.
“He’s one of the smallest guys, but he’ll throw his whole fucking body into somebody,” Griffin says. “Angry as fuck! Everybody plays like that for each other. That’s the best thing about it. Everybody depends on each other. We play this defense where everybody plays their own spot and we’re not sure who’s going to make the play, but we’re going to be just as excited as if it’s one of us.”
He expects the Vikings to finish with the No. 1 defense in the NFL, and that’s not all. He doesn’t flinch when asked if they harbor aspirations of being an all-time unit. “Fuck yeah! Why not?! We can get ahead of ourselves. We’ll take that pressure.”
Back when the Vikings were universally picked to finish last in the NFC North, players started feeling this confident. The sight of their new quarterback throwing darts helped. Clearly, this was a different Sam Darnold. Longtime Vikings like safety Harrison Smith and right tackle Brian O’Neill had a sneaking suspicion 2024 could be special midway through training camp. O’Neill knew this edition would fight more than any Viking squad he’s been on. “No matter what happens,” he adds, “we’re going to scratch and claw and fight for every last inch.”
Which brings us to the locker three stalls down from O’Neill. Inside you’ll find a practice jersey, t-shirts, hoodies, a knit hat, a Vikings cap, a stick of deodorant and a bouquet of flowers.
The stall belongs to Khyree Jackson. The Vikings rookie was killed on July 6 in a car crash.
At no point has Kevin O’Connell tried to bury this trauma. Jackson is also given a locker at all road games. When the head coach first spoke to the entire team in the wake of the tragedy, he stressed the need to cherish every moment. “When you think you’re finished” — guard Blake Brandel recalls O’Connell saying — “go a little bit further.”
That’s exactly what they’ve done. O’Connell’s speeches are always A+. The reason Go Long headed to the Midwest for this story were the coach’s words to players after dismantling the Houston Texans, 34-7. He told his team that this run “feels real,” assuring he’d never, ever lie to them. “And I can tell you right now,” O’Connell continued, “we are capable of absolutely anything that is out in front of us right now. … Special, special shit is going to happen to this football team.”
Upon closer examination, he’s right. The old-school tenants fueling these Vikings transcend football. They’ve worked for 100 years.
The Vikings improved to 7-2 on Sunday with a grimy win in Jacksonville, and they’re not close to finished yet.
On defense, Flores coaches players hard. Nothing slides. There’s an immense level of accountability with emotional sensitivities considered secondary. That stands out in 2024. On offense, Darnold refuses to play the victim. If anybody has any right to bitch about a horrid set of circumstances as an NFL starting quarterback, it’s him. It’s the USC kid drafted by the pathetic New York Jets and traded to the rudderless Carolina Panthers. Sure, he’s got O’Connell designing plays and Justin Jefferson making ungodly catches. But the person who deserves the most credit for Darnold’s success is Darnold himself.
Back when 99.9 percent of the populace dismissed him as an abject bust, it would’ve been awfully easy to drown in self-pity.
He did not. He manned up. That, too, stands out in 2024.
These Vikings have modernized in all the necessary ways with ownership pouring money into all of the correct departments. You won’t find better facilities in the NFL. Minnesota may also have the single-best sports performance program in the NFL and general manager Kwesi Adofo-Mensah, a former Wall Street commodities trader who earned a master’s in economics at Stanford, once described himself to me as a “numbers guy.”
Yet at their core, this is a football team simply living in a new world with an old soul.
That “special shit” may be inevitable.
Know two things about Stephon Gilmore. One, he’s seen it all through 190 career games. Two, this is a professional who does not sugarcoat a thing. He speaks quietly. He’s efficient with his words. But since his days as a young corner for the Buffalo Bills, Gilmore has always spoken with brutal bluntness.
His answers are the diametric opposite of a word salad.
Be it on the topic of a young “prima donna” named Odell Beckham Jr. or his goal to be the best of his era.
To him, the topic of Hard Coaching is not complicated. Bring up what players down in Miami have said about Brian Flores — most notably the shots delivered by quarterback Tua Tagovailoa — and he doesn’t even wait for a question. Gilmore cuts in.
“He holds everybody to a high standard,” Gilmore says, “and if you’re not playing up to that standard, he’s going to let you know. If you’re not strong-minded enough to take it and be better? This generation now can’t handle that. We need that to become great players. You’ve got to be mentally strong. It ain’t always going to be great. You’ve got to be able to take coaching and get better.”
Coaches can evolve. Both Blake Cashman and Harrison Smith heard the horror stories from Miami and insist that Flores — described as a “dictator” by players — has evolved. Tagovailoa famously skewered his former head coach in August. Flores, as a DC, has not been telling players repeatedly that they suck. Coaches who chastise players to this extreme are dinosaurs. Mike Zimmer, Matt Patricia and Urban Meyer are not exactly in high demand. Yet, it’s also true that many coaches swing too far the opposite direction.
Back when the Vikings won an NFL-record 11 one-score games in 2022, Harrison Phillips indicated to us that defensive film sessions with Ed Donatell weren’t as critical as they should’ve been. Too often, those Vikes were riding high off a mind-boggling win. Under Flores, mistakes are not conveniently ignored. Flores has been stern, direct, fair. Gilmore — a man who has encountered every type of coach, from Marrone to Rex to Belichick to Matt Rhule, Jeff Saturday and McCarthy — knows this gives the Vikings an edge. Because this is rare.
Nobody’s spared. At the very top of his game, Gilmore remembers Flores berating him in New England. Didn’t matter if it was the fourth quarter of a playoff game or a Wednesday practice in September. Give up one catch in practice, and you’ll hear it.
“You can be the best player or the worst player,” Gilmore says. “He’s going to hold you to that same standard. That’s what you need.”
Those who cannot handle such criticism, Gilmore adds, are effectively “weaned out.” They won’t be reliable in January anyway, so everybody wins.
Too many coaches in today’s NFL operate like paranoid CEOs. They’re afraid of offending a 23-year-old because that 23-year-old may tune them out. Flores is not. So a Vikings defense that has rattled Brock Purdy, C.J. Stroud, Jordan Love and Aaron Rodgers at full strength has become a dangerous anomaly. On Sunday, Mac Jones didn’t look worthy of a practice-squad spot. The nature of this scheme lends itself to individual accountability. If you “do your job” within a play — like those Super Bowl defenses in New England — good things will happen.
There’s no telling which player will blitz from which position.
What may appear to be a herd of unruly sixth-graders at the playground is actually a well-crafted, well-rehearsed symphony. Vikings defenders crowd the line of scrimmage before zigging ‘n zagging every direction — with a purpose. Within a play that’s called, they’ve also got the freedom to do what’s most comfortable. As the safety Smith says, “it’s not like we’re out there making stuff up.” There’s a plan. There are systems in place. Week to week, the defense can completely change. High football IQ is demanded. Asked for the identity of this Vikings defense, Smith chuckles.
Other defenses can pinpoint one specific strength.
This unit? It’s an ability to be so fluid, so flexible.
“I compare it to pickup basketball,” Smith says. “We’re doing things that make sense. Guys are going places that are reasonable.”
The Vikings are essentially flipping behind-the-back passes to each other and lobbing oops on 3-on-2 breaks. Nothing’s overly regimented, but there’s a natural flow. There’s an elegance to everyone seeming to be in the right place at the right time. The Vikings don’t plug specific gaps in the run game or demand stringent steps in coverage because Flores doesn’t want 11 robots on the field. Instincts, not memorization, is valued. Greenard says the Vikings will often call “three or four” different plays at once. Your job is based off the offense’s formation. An edge rusher like himself cannot simply line up and feast — “good and bad at times,” he admits — but Greenard knows this always gives the Vikings the upper hand. They dictate the play.
As the play clock ticks, as both sides match wits, the last thing Flores wants is hesitancy.
In this elaborate game of pickup basketball, the Vikings treasure conviction. Playing fast. No ball hogs are allowed.
“I don’t want to put any young guys in a box, but it’s hard,” Smith says. “It helps to have experience and helps to not just have one guy like myself. You need multiple guys. We have a great mix of guys who love playing together and play unselfishly. Nobody’s out there trying to play hero ball. We know we’re all going to get our chances and just play our role and it really is true. Everybody’s had a chance to make splash plays.”
The Vikings did not match what the Atlanta Falcons were willing to pay the sport’s greatest business man (Kirk Cousins) — four years, $180 million — and even released a team statement lamenting the inability to get a deal done. “We are moving forward with plans that allow us to continue building a roster that can compete for a championship,” Adofo-Mensah wrote. An organizational decision that hinted at the Vikings taking a conscious step backward in 2024 for better long-term health in ‘25 and beyond. In the greatest twist of the offseason, however, freeing up that money allowed the Vikings to compete in the present.
After not paying Cousins a monster deal, they opened up that Sears catalog and went shopping for high IQ players capable of doing what Flores likes to call “high-level shit.”
Flores inked one of the most eccentric defensive talents in the NFL. Miami’s Andrew Van Ginkel returned to his former coach at $10 million per year. From Houston, the Vikings poached Greenard ($19M/year), Cashman ($7.5M/year) and Griffin ($4.55M). In August, Gilmore signed at $7 million. Young players are not rushed onto the field until they’re able to keep up. Alabama edge rusher Dallas Turner, the 17th overall pick in April, has exceeded 20 snaps in a game only twice this season. The vivacious Griffin turns around and points toward everyone he’s played with at some point in his career, locker to locker to locker with his voice rising above the rap blaring. Flores knew the benefits of reuniting teammates. They’d have an intrinsic feel for each other’s tendencies.
Usually, a reconfigured defense isn’t firing on all cylinders until late September, Griffin says.
Here? The Vikings were on that level the first week of camp. That’s why he’s so bullish this can be a historic group.
Griffin is backing up the bravado with lowest completion rate allowed in 1-on-1 coverage of any cornerback in the NFL this season.
Smith smashed receivers on back-to-back hits in the fourth quarter to spark a win in Indy.
Cashman was back to his “F my body” ways in Duval.
And if we’ve learned anything the last few years, aggressiveness wins in the postseason. Not playing on your heels. Not sitting back in coverage and predictable alignments. Choose to play a boring game of “Four Corners” in this pickup basketball game, and you’re toast. Quarterback play today is too good to sit back and expect mistakes. Ballsy pressures called by defensive coordinator Steve Spagnuolo against Josh Allen, Lamar Jackson and Purdy fueled the Chiefs’ 2023 Super Bowl run as much as Patrick Mahomes’ heroics.
In the Super Bowl, “Spags” blitzed on 52.4 percent of dropbacks.
During the regular season, the Chiefs generated 73 unblocked pressures and an 11.3 percent unblocked pressure rate, both NFL highs.
It’ll be interesting to see if Sean McDermott finally changes his playoff approach.
The Vikings aim to play as fast as possible — with zero apologies — even as the flags fly leaguewide. Griffin has seen the sport only change for worse since he caught the tail-end of the “Legion of Boom” Seattle Seahawks as a third-round pick in 2017. More rules. More ways to make the life of a DB miserable. “Every single year!” he says. “I don’t know how they find more things, but they usually do.” The key? Not caring what decisions are made on Park Avenue.
He confirms this unit will forever take a Screw It approach, and attack offenses “head-on.”
They’ll blitz, they’ll hit and only the mentally tough can thrive in this Vikings defense.
Good thing the tip of this spear is Jonathan Greenard.
Those film sessions were harsh. All Jonathan wanted to do was relax between snaps as a 5-year-old and Dad wasn’t having it. Mack Greenard Jr. told him the offense might snap the ball when he’s fussing around with his mouthguard. Jonathan never met his grandfather but he’s positive Dad’s hardnosed discipline came from his own father’s time with the Navy. Youth football could feel militaristic at times.
Hard as Dad could be, he’d still spoil his youngest child. If Jonathan scored a couple touchdowns, he’d get a new video game. He calls himself the “baby” of the lot who got everything he wanted.
There was a ton of love. Tough love.
“If I didn’t have that and I was just allowed to do everything I wanted to do,” Greenard says, “who knows where the hell I’d be.”
All while Dad dealt with his own demons as a functioning alcoholic. He wasn’t physically or verbally abusive. Nor was he over-the-top “shit-faced,” son says. Simply, there was always a drink in his hands and he smoked cigarettes frequently. Looking back, Jonathan knows that’s why Dad pushed his three kids so hard. He didn’t want them making the mistakes.
Gradually, his health deteriorated.
By Jonathan’s freshman of high school, Dad could hardly walk. Diabetes started to develop and both his hip and knee went bad. It got harder and harder for Mack to attend his son’s games into 10th and 11th grade. After that junior season — when Jonathan still had zero D-I offers — Dad called him on the phone. His cough was hoarser this time and he admitted he was getting sick. The kids didn’t think much of it because Dad always bounced back. One week later, Mack was found unresponsive in his house.
Medics were able to revive him but when Jonathan got to the hospital on this Saturday in March 2014, he noticed a new emotion in his father: Fear.
“He was scared,” Greenard says. “That was the first time I saw my dad really scared. Like he had no control. You could see it in his eyes.”
Dad’s kidneys shut down and he got jaundice. His eyes were yellow.
The very next day, Greenard’s family needed to leave church ASAP. Dad’s health was nosediving. They all rushed over to the hospital and Jonathan can still picture his aunt in tears. The End was near. The next morning, Jonathan received the news while getting ready for school: His father had died from congestive heart failure. Mom was at work but thankfully his stepfather, Washington Varnum Jr., was in the house. Varnum gave Jonathan a huge hug.
Sixteen years old at the time, Greenard stayed at home and cried all day.
“That fucked me up,” Greenard says. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to think.”
The following morning, he could hear his Dad’s voice in his head. The same one imploring him to hit someone on the football field as a tyke.
He wiped his tears away and went to school.
“The world had to continue on,” Greenard says. “I had to continue to live a purpose out in my life and understand that wasn’t everything. As close as I was to him — from that point on — I had to take everything with a grain of salt. Understand that it’s OK to deal with emotions and feel what you feel, but then there’s a point in time where you have to press on. The show goes on and, honestly, if you’re being real, nobody cares. When you go through things, people care to a certain extent. But when you get to this point where everybody’s job is relying on you to do your job, you have to find a way to put those things to the side. You have to find a way to maneuver and be the best version of yourself because it’ll eat you up.”
Wallowing in sadness wouldn’t accomplish a thing. Greenard pressed on with Varnum assuming a greater role in his life.
He fought his way onto Louisville’s football team, and see that distinct scar on his hand? That’s from the first game of Greenard’s 2018 collegiate season. Against Alabama, he lasted all of six plays before tearing his wrist up and missing the entire year. The injury could’ve dashed pro hopes on the spot. Instead, he hatched a plan. He vowed to graduate… transfer to an SEC school… get drafted and that’s exactly what he did. At Florida, in ’19, Greenard led the conference in both sacks (9.5) and TFLs (16).
That offseason into his rookie year, 2020, it was hard to find anywhere to work out through Covid lockdowns. The Houston Texans selected him 90th overall, a whole 88 selections after Ohio State’s Chase Young.
Then, after a quiet first season, more heartbreak rocked his world. On Feb. 1, 2021, Varnum passed away with Covid. A total shocker. And this was tough because Varnum was at his side this second phase of his life. Every step of college and the pros. “When he passed away,” Greenard adds, “it put it all even in more perspective.” Again, Greenard told himself to “keep pressing” and tried to take lessons from their crushing deaths. Unlike his biological father, Greenard has never smoked and rarely ever drinks. His stepfather was amazing — he’s still grateful for Varnum stepping up — but Greenard cites a poor diet.
That ’21 season, Greenard busted out with eight sacks. Through offseason foot surgery, he told himself: Nothing can stop you. And the greatest wake-up call of them all was finding out in January 2023 that he and his wife were having a baby. That’s when he repeated four words to himself: This has to work. The sight of his daughter served as a constant reminder that there was no other option. That ’23 season, Greenard racked up 52 tackles, 12.5 sacks, 22 quarterback hits and earned his whopper of a contract in Minnesota.
With the Vikings, he knew he’d have an opportunity to step in as a leader.
“I felt like my presence was going to be felt — not just on the football field but in the locker room and around everybody,” Greenard says. “The locker room was amazing. It worked out perfectly.”
This fall, Greenard has been wrecking games. He’s up to seven sacks and 12 QB hits through eight games. The 6-foot-3, 259-pounder has always been slimmer than his contemporaries. For years, he was told he’s too small to play on the defensive line. Not strong enough. Criticism he still hears today.
“You can look at me and say, ‘Easy day at the office,’” Greenard says. “OK, cool. You’ve got to see me all game. I love when I’m doubted. Being an underdog. I hate being overtalked. I hate being hyped up.”
Bittersweet emotions are inevitable. He lost two fathers in less than a decade and cannot imagine what they’d be thinking right now. The same Dad dissecting film of a 5-year-old juking defenders on camcorder video would beam as his son smiles for the camera while sacking Indianapolis quarterback Joe Flacco. There are many days Greenard wishes both were around to witness this breakout season. Their deaths still hurt. Yet, something special is building here. He never wants to be the reason “energy” in this building wanes because he takes pride in being this team’s lightning bolt of positivity.
“Whenever you’re this person who’s high energy like I am all the time, as soon as you have a day where you’re just chilling — not even mad or sad — they’re going to think something’s wrong,” Greenard says. “And I don’t want that. I don’t want any pity parties at all. I always attack the day and try to be as positive as possible. Some days I fail at that. I’m human. It definitely does affect me. It still does.”
That’s when Greenard looks at his wife, his daughter and promises to do everything in his power to not only see her graduate from high school but see her kids graduate.
Motivation is in high supply throughout the roster.
Just look around.
O’Connell has players pin their “Why” on a sheet of paper in their lockers. Names of loved ones fill the locker room. Greenard posts his wife’s name because she’s the one who keeps him grounded day to day. Everyone has a story, too. Cashman overcame Jets dysfunction and more injuries than he’d ever like to remember — he nearly quit the sport. Tight end T.J. Hockenson recently returned from a torn ACL. In the back of the room, running back Cam Akers is seated in his locker with a plate full of food. All he did in 2021 was come back from a torn right Achilles in five months to win a Super Bowl with the Los Angeles Rams. Two years later, with the Vikes, he ruptured his left Achilles.
Akers signed with the Texans and the Vikings traded for him a second time. O’Connell wants his influence in this room.
Through two tears, the hardest part was waking up every day. The monotony. Seeing no progress for stretches. Akers leaned on loved ones best he could. But as those rough mornings replay in his mind, Akers makes it clear that he wouldn’t want it any other way.
“A lot of people come in the league and their journeys are like peaches and cream,” he says, “but I got a story and I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful to overcome and have a testimony, so I just want to keep writing my story. I don’t want the injuries to be my story.”
Akers authored a fresh chapter in the Vikings’ win over the Colts with 46 clutch yards on six carries.
He’s not the only one rewriting his story.
The most important player on the team is completely changing what everybody thought about him.
He was destined to be nothing more than a drunken trivia answer. One of those “Remember That Guy?” names you and your buddies bring up 15 years from now. Like so many Jets quarterbacks before him, Sam Darnold was swallowed whole by the New Jersey swamp.
Usually when a Top 10 pick at the position flops, they never resurface.
They latch on as a backup somewhere — if they’re lucky — then disappear into oblivion. Most are permanently scarred by the experience and wary to ever explain what went wrong. Especially those staining the back pages of the NYC tabloids.
Of course, what stings most here, is that Darnold was selected ahead of Josh Allen (No. 7 overall) and Lamar Jackson (No. 32) in the 2018 NFL Draft. Adam Gase was hired to springboard Darnold to the next level, Darnold famously saw “ghosts” in an all-time horrid outing vs. New England and his Jets career ended with a 13-25 record. Daredevil tendencies didn’t help. Darnold completed only 59.8 percent of his passes for an average of 213 yards and 1.2 touchdowns per game, with 38 interceptions and 20 fumbles. Two seasons in Carolina weren’t any better.
Yet after Darnold spent the 2023 season in quarterback rehab with Kyle Shanahan and the San Francisco 49ers, O’Connell granted him one more starting opportunity at one year, $10 million.
Even after a miserable start on Sunday, Darnold still has the 11th-best passer rating in the NFL (99.2) and is on pace for 4,000+ yards and 32 TDs. The general consensus is that everyone else in this building has performed CPR on Darnold: the head coach’s rhythmic playcalling, the offensive line play, Justin Jefferson. At one point, Harrison Smith even nods toward Jefferson and says it sure helps to have that guy as a receiver. But Smith also knows the No. 1 reason Darnold is thriving. The quarterback had “legitimate confidence” all along.
“Normally, if you are searching for your confidence — or you don’t have it — you might look back and say, ‘Well I didn’t have much of a chance there and it wasn’t all my fault,’” Smith says. “He’s not worried about that. He’s worried about being here and being the best player he can.
“It doesn’t happen that often. Normally when a guy starts out bad and goes somewhere else and it doesn’t go well, that’s pretty much it. It doesn’t really matter where you go after that. There’s definitely perseverance that needs to be respected there.”
The list of quarterbacks who emerge from such a prison is short. Baker Mayfield and Geno Smith both redefined themselves, but it’s safe to declare Darnold as the QB with the best chance at a ring this season. At no point, has he come remotely close to pointing a finger at the Jets when — honestly? — he could. He should. Ahead of Minnesota’s game vs. the Jets this season, Darnold was asked if he thought the team failed him. Darnold was quick to say “no,” adding “I had a lot of opportunities in New York, and I always felt like I could’ve played better there.”
The week prior, O’Connell said the truth out loud on the Rich Eisen Show: “Organizations fail young quarterbacks before young quarterbacks fail organizations.”
Darnold’s approach is simple. As far as he’s concerned, pity accomplishes nothing. Failed QBs who allow themselves to feel victimized do not last. You blame others at your own peril. You’re only accelerating your own demise. One of the greatest busts in NFL history, Ryan Leaf, has articulated this point. A bad attitude is more poisonous than any piss-poor play design or meager supporting cast.
The teammate who’s around Darnold most in Eagan comes from a totally different world. Nick Mullens is Alabama; Darnold is So Cal. Yet, they’ve been hitting it off. Mullens says Darnold, dry at the podium, actually has an underrated sense of humor. Through their many 1-on-1 conversations, Darnold has never relived those vile Jets/Panthers days.
Instead, the quarterback’s play this 2024 season has been a direct extension of his refusal to be a victim.
“It’s a strength,” Mullens says. “Go back and look at the way the games have flowed. If adversity has hit, he’s done a great job of bouncing back. Once you go through it, it’s hard. But once you can get to the other side and earn yourself a new opportunity, it’s awesome to see guys take advantage of it. And he’s definitely done that.”
Mullens points to the Vikings’ field-goal drive in London against those Jets to go up 23-17 and force Aaron Rodgers to play for a touchdown. Fresh off an interception, his completions of 25, six and 20 got Minnesota within range. Last week against the Colts, he lost one fumble that was returned for a touchdown. He threw a pair of interceptions, too. But Darnold’s three touchdowns in the second half were the difference. One third-and-9 completion set up one score. One TD came on third and goal from the 7.
After mistakes, he doesn’t go into a shell. He keeps gunning the ball downfield.
Earlier in the season, against the Texans, Darnold suffered a scary knee injury. The stadium went mute, he missed one play, he picked up where he left off.
All three of his interceptions vs. the Jaguars were inside the opponent’s 30-yard line. It was a nightmare outing. But nobody should be surprised when he bounces back next week at Tennessee.
While his identity was cemented in the public sphere — Bum! Bust! Turnover Machine! — Darnold kept improving. Mullens knows that’s not easy.
“It’s a challenging position,” he says. “That’s kind of the beauty, isn’t it? It’s why we love it as much as we do. We know that it’s hard, but that makes success so much sweeter.”
Blake Brandel and Brian O’Neill, two behemoths blocking for Darnold, didn’t know much about the quarterback before teaming up. Both were too preoccupied with their own pro careers to give a damn about someone on another part of the country. It didn’t take any time at all for Darnold to assert himself behind the scenes. Brandel says the QB brings a “phenomenal attitude” to the building. He calls him a “true professional” who never looks backward. At all.
O’Neill sees the same icy demeanor — “a quiet, humble confidence” — adding that Darnold has been spinning the ball well since Day 1.
He’s frank about life in the NFL, too.
“Nobody cares if you’re banged up. Nobody cares what the circumstances are,” O’Neill says. “It’s a kill-or-get killed league. And hopefully we can provide him with favorable circumstances.”
This may be the best supporting cast in the NFL. In addition to Jefferson, the Vikings have two more first-round talents catching passes: wideout Jordan Addison and Hockenson. Running back Aaron Jones, at 29, is still averaging 4.5 yards per carry. When Christian Darrisaw was lost for the season with a torn ACL and MCL in his left knee, Adofo-Mensah swiftly traded for veteran Cam Robinson. Competent left tackles are an endangered species in the NFL. Losing one can be a death sentence for any offense. Minnesota was proactive and, now, should keep humming right along.
Akers calls this offense a well-oiled machine with answers for everything.
He does not see one defense in the NFL that can outright stop the Vikings.
“The only way we don’t get to where we want to go,” the running back adds, “is if we don’t do it.”
That Houston blowout, it was Mullens who ran onto the field for one snap. That’s life as a backup. Any given moment, you could get thrust into action. He had no clue how bad Darnold damaged his knee, and neither did the 66,843 in attendance. Generations of tormented Vikings fans were certainly wondering if their magic carpet ride with this reclamation project was over before it truly had a chance to even begin.
Darnold returned and Darnold will need to be peeled off the turf with this opportunity in front of him. The quarterback with “legitimate confidence” has a legitimate chance to bring the Vikings right back to where Randall Cunningham (1998), Daunte Culpepper (2000), Brett Favre (2009), Case Keenum (2017) left off and — this time — win that NFC Championship Game. Not bad for a franchise that all but declared to their fan base this was a rebuilding year.
The underdog trope is overplayed. At this point, which teams haven’t received the viral “Nobody Believes In You!” pep talk from Kyle Brandt on the league’s television network? All coaches, all players try to conjure motivation from “haters,” whether the “haters” are real or perceived. That’s been the case in pro football since Otto Graham wore No. 60 at quarterback.
Even the two most recent NFL dynasties have tried painting themselves as The Team Nobody Believed In — the New England Patriots in 2018 and the Kansas City Chiefs last season.
But every so often, it’s real. And when it’s very real, the results can be very powerful. Kevin O’Connell knows this, so the Vikings head coach has made a conscious effort to inform his team how the rest of the world viewed them into this season. At the podium. Inside the locker room. During team meetings. O’Connell was a quarterback himself from 2008- ’12.
Brilliant as he is designing an NFL offense, his greatest strength as the 10th head coach in Vikings history is grasping the human condition.
For seven months, the NFC North narrative was written in stone.
Detroit was the powerhouse that came within a gamble or two from the Super Bowl.
Green Bay was piloted by the hottest quarterback in the NFL the final 1 ½ months.
Chicago was on Cloud 9 with the arrival of Caleb Williams.
These Minnesota Vikings? As meh as meh gets in the NFL. Two seasons away from competing with J.J. McCarthy — at best — and there was no telling if the Michigan quarterback was any good. The more the Vikings practiced together, the more they started to believe this was no transition year.
“We knew that outside the locker room expectations weren’t how we saw ourselves,” Brandel says. “Knowing that you feel overlooked, you just prepare that much harder and it can be a difference-maker for sure. So I think that’s how we’ve attacked the season — with this chip on our shoulder and guys doing their job, working hard. We have an awesome locker room in here.”
Unlike his predecessor, this head coach always strikes the right chord. Players won’t forget O’Connell’s poignant address to the entire team after Khyree Jackson’s death. This news could’ve rotted the Vikings from within and (justifiably) capsized the entire season. This was no torn ACL, no loss that can be remedied with a transaction. Two weeks before training camp, one of their teammates died. By then, several players had grown close to the cornerback out of Oregon. Bring his name up and it is clear players still think about him often.
O’Connell never whistled past the tragedy. He reached out to everyone that next day, talked about it openly in camp and keeps Jackson’s legacy alive with that locker today.
Upon taking over in 2022, the head coach explained to us why culture’s so important.
Three years in, the soul of the team is strong. Players want to be challenged. Nobody’s a victim. Everyone’s having a blast. All week, the music blares loudly inside this locker room.
Harrison Smith has been on one 5-0 team that flopped and another team with a backup QB that reached the NFC title game. The NFL is a wild ride, so he never listens what anybody else says about the Vikings. Good or bad. Even then, he admits, it’s good to have those reminders from O’Connell.
These Vikings have seen hopeful seasons end with missed kicks and last-minute picks. Maybe this is the Vikings team that finally makes the crucial play with everything on the line.
One of the rare players who’s won a ring on this roster knows the telltale signs of a champion.
His food’s getting cold, but he doesn’t care.
From the very back of the locker room, Cam Akers stares ahead.
“It’s a Super Bowl team,” Akers says. “Special teams, offense, defense. The only way we don’t get to the finished goal that we’re trying to get to is if we do something to get in our way.”
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