My prediction was something like Saints 45, Vikings 17. Had I elaborated it might've said "Vikes trail 28-10 at halftime, Favre gets knocked on his butt time after time in the first half and announces his retirement at halftime." Then, after his bruises heal and the Vikings go 3-3 to start the season he'll unretire and decide that maybe he can survive a 10-game season, and his wife will get sick of him constantly slapping her on the backside. "Go play football," she'll say. "Slap some of those guys on the backside."
Stinks to have to be tempering my expectations for the third time in 13 years in the wake of disappointment against the Falcons, Giants (41-dohnut) and Saints. I am going to start whittling away at that ambilacle chord (sp?) so I'm not totally crushed when they move to LA. There has to be a life out there for me somewhere.
That being said, I'm sure I'll be on the edge of my seat, stomping and kicking at every false start, dropped pass and missed tackle, and I'll remind myself at 10:30 p.m. "it's not how you start, but how you finish."
Purple Pride, Purple Pride, Purple Pride.