Don Glover, Latter Day Philosopher and #1 Vikings Fan
For those of you who don't know, Don Glover is my dad. A lot of you who come here on Sundays or Mondays during the football season have been able to peek into the mind of sports madness with a 'Don Glover quote of the day', which started out as snippets from my ever quotable, very old school father.
It's kind of grown, especially this past season, as the Vikings struggled to put a quality product on the field. As the Vikings sucked more, my Dad's comedy gold grew, and I started incorporating a quote of his either into the game thread or into the Stock Market Report, or both. For those of you that are kind of new to DN, some sampling pearls of wisdom from my dad:
After the game at Detroit:
'Jesus Christ son. I could coach this team better drunk than Muskrat or Frazier can sober."
--Immediately after Ponder threw his first pick which was followed up by the 57 yard Titus Young TD 3 plays later. You know, the one in which there was no safety to be seen for several hundred miles.
You know, Dad, sometimes I think you could.
As we were watching the Detroit-Green Bay Thanksgiving game:
Good Lord, the Lions keep shooting themselves in the foot. It’s like watching the Vikings.
On our way to my house right after Donovan McNabb got cut, the day of the Denver game:
So my dad lives literally a block from my house, at an assisted living facility. The conversation during the 1 minute drive from his place to my house is usually a quick preview and prediction from him. But yesterday was a bit different, as the release of Donovan McNabb and his subsequent clearing of waivers was the topic of conversation:
Dad: So did anybody claim McNabb?
Me: Nope, he cleared waivers and is a free agent.
Dad: So the Vikings are on the hook for his whole salary?
Me: Yep, sure are.
Dad: Well, I guess he'll never have to throw himself a welfare party, will he?
Finally, during the debacle that was the game at Chicago, where the Christian Ponder era began, and the game conflicted with the Cardinals NLCS game 6 (I'm a big St. Louis Cardinals fan). I kept changing the channel back and forth:
Me (after Donovan McNabb threw yet another pass in the dirt): God, McNabb is terrible.
Dad: He's beyond terrible. He's worse than beyond terrible. And quit changing the goddamn channel back and forth. The Cardinals are kicking the hell out of the Brewers. At least something in Wisconsin is getting their ass beat.
So it's time to let you know a little bit more about my Dad. He was born in Benson, Minnesota in 1931. He grew up during the Depression and World War II, and served in the Air Force during Korea. He came back and got out, got a job and worked for the same company for 33 years. Got married, raised a son who tried his damnedest to be an idiot in spite of what his Dad taught him, and retired to Florida in the 1990's.
My dad was a Green Bay Packer fan until 1961, the moment the Vikings came into being. The Packers have been right below the anti-Christ in terms of sports hate since then. There's no such thing as a good referee in the NFL, Drew Pearson pushed off, Hank Stram is a punk, Joe Kapp is a demi-God, and the Vikings haven't had a coach worth a shit since Bud Grant. He's never met a dumb Republican, a smart Democrat, and if you don't vote in elections you can just shut the hell up, because you have no goddamn right to bitch about how screwed up the country is. And trust me, these goddamn hippies have screwed this country up like you wouldn't believe.
My Dad says goddamn a lot.
But in an endearing, Missouri Synod Lutheran sort of way.
Anyway, I hadn't seen my Dad in a couple of days, but I had to go over there today to drop off some stuff for him. While I was there I asked him 'hey Pop, have you been following this Saints bounty scandal?'
Oh, he has. My Dad looked at me and went all Marcellus Wallace on the situation:
"Those goddamn cheap shot bastards. I said they were doing that while we were watching that game. You thought I was dumber than Brad Childress."
And I give my Dad credit here--he said that as early as the first quarter. I thought he was going into his Archie Bunker mode, but as usual, he was right.
So Dad, what so you think should happen?
"That cocky punk (see, every coach in the NFL that plays the Vikings is a cocky punk, except Mike McCarthy. He's a dope) Peyton and his sidekick Willie need to be kicked out of the goddamn NFL. If you or I did that we'd go to jail. Those sunsabitches tried to kill Favre, and what did that idiot Childress do? Nothing!! I would've brought in..what's that kid's name with the hippie hair?"
"Brian Robison, dad?"
"Yeah, him. I would've told him to take a cheap shot at Brees and knock his cocky ass out of the game, and do to him what they were trying to do to Favre. And I would've passed the hat to make sure that Robbyson (my Dad, and I think it's intentional at this point in his life, mis-pronounces every player on the Vikings that isn't named Adrian Peterson) didn't pay a dime of that fine out of his pocket. And it would've been the best money the Vikings ever spent. And then I would've walked across the field and kicked Peyton in the nuts."
And as God as my witness, I firmly believe that my father would have.
"That would've sent a message, and nipped that bullshit in the bud."
"Goddamn Saints."
Indeed, Dad. Indeed.