Confessions of a bad fan

I'll admit, I feel just a little bit guilty. I feel like I didn't give my all as a member of the Minnesota rooting public. As members of the peanut gallery go, I was a real goober.
I'm not saying the Vikings lost to the Philadelphia Eagles in Sunday's first-round playoff game because I didn't show enough support. That would be egotistical even for me. The Vikings lost to the Eagles because their special teams seems to have an aversion to human contact and their quarterback appears unclear at times on some of the basic concepts of professional football.
Or something. I don't really know football.
I'm just saying that while news about whether Sunday's game would be televised was treated as one of the most important stories in Minnesota last week I was mostly thinking about how a blackout would free up my day Sunday.
Is that wrong?
It's not that I'm a bad fan. Just an indifferent one. I knew that if the Vikings were on TV I'd feel obligated to watch them because — actually, I don't know why; it just seemed like the thing to do. If I'm really honest, I mostly wanted to be aware enough of what happened so I could participate in conversations the next day with in-depth analysis like, "Boy, that Tarvaris Jackson sure does appear unclear at times on some of the basic concepts of professional football."
I can totally talk sports.
With the game relegated to radio coverage, I would have been free to get about important tasks like watching the Sports Night DVDs I got for my birthday. Or clipping my toenails.
It's just who I am, and I've accepted that. With the notable exception of Minnesota Gopher basketball I am at best a fair-weather sports fan. I would enjoy seeing the Vikings win the Super Bowl. But now that they've been eliminated from the playoffs I will go about my life with hardly a second thought about the season that just ended. For the first time in months my Sundays won't revolve around half-heartedly watching a football game and I'm OK with that.
I took the light rail past the Metrodome on New Year's Eve and there was a sign advertising broadband Internet service that's "Adrian Peterson fast." Instead of thinking fondly of the star player's powerful running style my first thought was "Boy, I sure hope they don't drop the connection like AP drops the ball."
My interest in the Twins is nearly nonexistent each season until the Sports section starts talking about Magic Numbers. And I hardly even think about the Timberwolves since they disbanded the franchise a few years back.
I try to be aware enough of what's going on with the local teams that when someone starts a conversation with "How about them Twins" I don't come back with, "Yeah, that Kirby Puckett's really something," but that's about the extent of things.
Most of the time I'm with that. But this feels different. This feels like some kind of betrayal of my duty as a Minnesotan. Of my unspoken and totally non-dues-paying membership in the greater Minnesota Viking community.
I'm pretty sure I'll get over it, though. There's a Gopher game Sunday.