According to my calculations, I have spent more than half my life as a Minnesotan, after deducting a little more than three decades of fall weekend afternoons and weeknights cheering for my home state’s beloved Badgers and Packers (or any other NFL team playing the locals).

While growing up, I saw plenty of bad Wisconsin and Green Bay football, while the purple team kept winning games – or at least games that didn’t contain the word “Super.” That trend continued into the 80s and my move to Minneapolis, where I’ve always been in the high-spirited company of many Wisconsin natives, who frequently filled much of a drab concrete stadium with familiar headgear, humorous signs, and prideful cheers for our teams.

It was even more fun to be in that group in the 90s, and the last decade and a half have been very satisfying to us cheeseheads, the term often muttered with both glaring disdain and jealous envy. We had Favre, then Rodgers and their combined five MVP seasons, while the local purples have had nearly two dozen quarterbacks start during those years (yes, even counting one outstanding quarterback who made a horrific, but now forgiven, career decision for the 2009 and 2010 seasons).

And down in Madison, a superhero named Barry set new heights for Badger fans, taking us out of the Little 8 and into that New Year’s Day bowl game in 1994 that couldn’t possibly be won – until it was. We have the Axe for another year, and hope to never give it back – something we haven’t had to do since 2003.

A tiny confession (admission against interest, as the litigators would say). On Jan. 24, 2010, I involuntarily cheered for that team for about an hour, during the late stages of the NFC Championship game. Many of you will recall who got them there, and how we always enjoyed and respected Favre’s love of football and ability to scratch out many wins on sheer talent and guts and gunslinger moves.

Both teams sit tied at 7-6 as I write this, so there is hope for another holiday-season- ending march or a Christmas Eve Lambeau win over the lavender locals.

I’m not going to lie to you. This season has been tough so far, especially the first month or so, including a pancake-flat nationally televised night game in a mega glass palace sitting next to my nervous, but still vocal, Viking pal. Late in the game, it looked like good green might triumph again over evil violet with another Aaron Rodgers game-ending drive and dagger, but a devastating interception led to one of the five wins (in a row!) that the purple team managed to cobble together, before losing five of their next six.

Both teams sit tied at 7-6 as I write this, so there is hope for another holiday-season-ending march or at the very least, a Christmas Eve Lambeau win over the lavender locals, to put under those glorious green trees sparkling with golden garland and ornaments up here and behind the lines. That would bring some much needed “ya, hey der” karma to the part of the football universe I now call home.