The impending Vikings playoff game this Sunday versus the Seattle Seahawks at the TCF Bank Stadium, where the temperature is expected to be in the low single-digits and the windchill temps far below zero, reminded me of one of my fondest memories of my dad.

This was back in the early 1970’s when Vikings regular season tickets were very hard to get.  The vast majority of seats were held by season ticket holders, and the only way to get tickets was to stand in line out at the Vikings office in Edina in August when they went on sale and hope for the best.  Somehow, back in December of 1974, my dad managed to get us two tickets to the playoff game against the St. Louis Cardinals for the game on December 21 and I was ecstatic.  My hero, Fran Tarkenton, had rejoined the team, and with stars like running back Chuck Foreman, wide receiver John Gilliam, tight end Stu (Chainsaw) Voigt and placekicker Fred (Freddy The Foot) Cox, we were looking good enough to have a chance at the Super Bowl.  The bad news was that the game was going to be played in Met Stadium with temperatures in the low teens, and our seats were on the third deck behind the first base line.

I was attending the U of M at the time, and was as accustomed to battling the cold as any Minnesota boy.  I walked to my grade school, and had to walk a quarter mile or so from the bus to De La Salle High School, which included a bracing jaunt across the Mississippi River.  And, looking back, I take some pride in my Boy Scout days which included winter camp-outs and an assortment of Klondike Derby events.  So Minnesota winters held no surprises for me, but I remember a distinct feeling of dread at the thought of sitting aloft at Met Stadium for three hours in that kind of cold.

Dad and I bundled up the best way we knew how.  Dad wore his army coat over his shirt, tie, sportcoat and sweater, with a scarf around his neck and the Cossack hat my sister gave him for Christmas covering his bald head.  I recall having longjohns on, with a thick Irish wool sweater and some thick rubber boots that I’d come to rely on for snow shoveling duties.  I’m sure I had a knit cap, scarf and earmuffs, too.  Mom armed us with a huge thermos full of hot coffee and a nifty blanket, and sent us on our way.

We had a fabulous time.  I was so amazed at how snug and warm we were under the blanket that I couldn’t help laughing most of the time.  And everyone around us was having as much fun as we were.  It didn’t hurt, of course, that the Vikings pretty much trounced the Cardinals 30-14.  And our view of the field was much better than I expected.  We were up high enough to see the entire field of play, so we saw everything like you do on TV.  It was one of the best days I ever had with my dad.

It’s funny how your memory changes over the years.  When I started to think about that day again, I would have sworn it was well below zero and I’d always been secretly proud of our enduring it so handily.  My dad hated the cold as much as I do – so much so that Mom had him buried in his longjohns underneath his Army uniform.  But when the news said that this coming Sunday was going to be the coldest Vikings playoff game ever, I looked up the record to see for myself.  To find the number was in the teens was a very rude awakening.

If you’re going to the game this Sunday, follow the experts’ advice.  Dress in layers and pay extra attention to the extremeties – head, hands and feet.  If they let you take a blanket to NFL games these days, by all means, do.  Take advantage of the free hand warmers and coffee that will be available.  There will be warming stations, too, I believe, and getting up and moving around once every quarter will help keep you comfortable.  Good luck!