With Zimmer, I’m on Board the Vikings Ship

I'm on board the Vikings ship
Image courtesy of Vikings.com

“I am not afraid of storms for I am learning how to sail my ship.” — Louisa May Alcott

To say Mike Zimmer is “learning” how to sail would be wrong; he’s navigated the sea’s unforgiving waters from the moment he set foot in Winter Park. From Adrian Peterson’s suspension in 2014 to the passing of his father Bill last season, Zimmer’s stood tall at the helm of the Minnesota Vikings ship.

The volatile nature of the sea, or life as an NFL head coach, is only matched by its unpredictability. Such was the case on Tuesday, when quarterback Teddy Bridgewater dislocated his knee, tore his ACL, and thrust the Zimmer-led Vikings into the most ominous storm of their three-year run.

But as he’s done so many times before, Zimmer took the wheel and kept the franchise on course. There were surely tears and shouts of frustration as Rick Spielman and the front office debated their immediate options; Shaun Hill, Mark Sanchez, Mike Vick? That uncertainty even showed during Zimmer’s press conference — a moment of emotion as the head coach professed his love for his fallen quarterback.

Still, Zimmer did not cry, make excuses, or concede defeat. He challenged his team to overcome, to withstand every brutal wave and violent swell of the ocean. He promised to fight, to stand together as a team, and prove the immediate doubters wrong. No matter how hard the sea hits, one thing is clear — Zimmer isn’t letting go.

And for that, no matter how the Vikings finish the season, I’m on board.

I’ll be honest; when Teddy Bridgewater’s season ended, I was distraught. I didn’t want to watch football, read about the Vikings, and struggled to put my own emotions into words. To have the optimism of the offseason ripped away by the sirens of an ambulance was unfathomable. Teddy wasn’t supposed to get hurt; he was supposed to “make the jump,” lead the Vikings to a second-straight playoff run, and bring Minnesota its first Super Bowl title.

I’m still struggling to come to terms, and I can’t imagine what’s going through Teddy’s mind. He’s two years younger than me and dealing with something very few people have ever experienced. Imagine taking a step and having your leg buckle, shooting red-hot pain up your leg and through your body. Imagine knowing, as soon as you hit the ground, that your season, and possibly career are over. You can’t — it’s unimaginable.

As I sit and write, my heart hurts for Teddy. More than a promising football player, he is the embodiment of everything Zimmer is building in Minnesota. He represents the growth of a young team; the development of a roster from the ground up; the hope that doing everything the “right” way will lead to a successful end-result.

Thanks to Eric Sugarman and the Vikings’ training staff, that hope remains. There’s a chance Teddy makes a full recovery and returns to his rightful place in the huddle next year. There’s also a chance he won’t, but now isn’t the time to speculate or assume the worst. Like you and me, he’s human, with real emotions that make this about more than the game of football.

When Zimmer took to the podium on Tuesday, I saw a man who’s loved and lost, who’s been through something like this before. I’ve been there; when I was 21, my father passed away. Many of us have, and many understand that sometimes, keeping your chin up and looking ahead is the only option. Zimmer surely does:

[quote_center]”It’s tough today but tomorrow the sun’s going to….Hey, my wife passed away seven years ago, right? It was a tough day, the sun came up the next day, the world kept spinning. People kept going to work. That’s what we’re going to do.” [/quote_center]

It’s telling when a head coach compares the loss of a player to the loss of the most important person in his life. And for some, it’s probably hard to put two-and-two together; how is the loss of a loved one anything like an injury to a football player? It’s about passion, love for the game — a genuine dedication to that which is important in your life. Clearly, for Zimmer, and many fans like myself, that raw emotion flows through everything we touch.

Zimmer’s never seen Bridgewater as just a quarterback. He’s more like a son than a prized pupil or ‘Player No. 5’ on the depth chart. I respected Zimmer’s honesty and refusal to look too far ahead. Sure, he promised not to make excuses and assured us he’d keep the team on track, but not without taking a moment to reflect.

He repeatedly praised Bridgewater, telling reporters how much he “loves the kid.” When asked which hospital Bridgewater would be taken to, Zimmer, visibly shaken, paused and collected himself. “You know what, he’s a great kid, let’s let him get healthy and get taken care of,” he said, emotion shaking his voice. “Let’s not deal with all this stuff, please, okay? I’m just asking you because I love this kid, our fans love this kid.”

A moment after finishing his sentence, Zimmer looked down, paused, and nearly began to cry. The same attitude that endears players to Zimmer on the field — candor, raw emotion, blunt respect — is exactly what we saw as Zimmer did his best to keep the Vikings on course this Tuesday. It’s why fans loved him from the start, embraced him as soon as he set foot in Winter Park.

Sometimes, it’s difficult to separate football from the real world. A coach is supposed to be one way on the field and another off of it. With Zimmer, that’s the case, but only to a degree. He’s always been guarded with the media, withholding information and emotions exclusive to the locker room. At the same time, he’s never been afraid to speak his mind, and on Tuesday, we witnessed a Zimmer we’ve never seen before. He took fans and media to the heart of the organization, expressing just how devastating this moment was for the team and for a state so enamored with Teddy. For 10 minutes on Tuesday, he made us a part of Minnesota Vikings football.

Beyond his success as head coach, Zimmer’s made a lasting impact in the community. His organization, the Mike Zimmer Foundation, worked hand-in-hand Vikings Territory and other blogs to raise more than $15,000 this offseason. That money, raised in the spirit of the late Vicki Zimmer, will help children in need throughout Minnesota discover new opportunities for a better life. If not for Zimmer’s daughter, Corri, and his resonance with the fanbase, none of this would’ve been possible.


We rally to Zimmer. We look to him in times of despair and disappointment. Bill Parcells, long Zimmer’s mentor, told him as much on Tuesday:

[quote_box_center]”Once the shock is over, probably 48 hours from now, they’re all gonna come to you and look at you and say, ‘What are you gonna do?’ Because you’re charged with winning games now, no matter what you have on your team. You need to figure out what works – what recipe works. And tomorrow morning, once the shock wears off, nobody’s gonna give a s—. It’s his problem. He’s gotta figure out how to win now.”[/quote_box_center]

Zimmer will figure out how to win. I don’t care if it’s Vick, Sanchez, or even Shaun Hill under center. Teddy or no Teddy, Zimmer is still the captain, and he’ll do everything he can to keep the Vikings competitive. I can’t speculate on what will happen, but I know this much — Zimmer is the head coach, and as long as he’s at the helm, I’ll always board the ship.

In Zim We Trust.

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