Under any other circumstances, in any other year, Kirk Cousins being traded back to the Minnesota Vikings would be universally mocked under the You Can't Make Someone Go Back Home statutes. The story of Kirk and the Vikes is one that had been told all the way through, in no great rush at that, and was on the merits not one that would have had the public demanding or even imagining a reboot. But here, now, in the situation in which the Vikings have placed themselves—well, put it this way: No NFL trade has ever had so many people call their shot ahead of time and then nod with approval after it came to pass.
Yes, even though Cousins already titillated and frustrated the Vikings alternately over six years by being Almost That Guy, they brought him back on Tuesday in a desperate admission that they had turned their quarterback room into a lividly radioactive dump site. Cousins, we must presume, went with a song in his heart, because he finally found his nirvana: a place without a young quarterback desperate to make his bones waiting to replace him.
A Cousins trade of some kind had been rumored from the moment he landed in Las Vegas to play for the Raiders, primarily because he was so obviously there to hold the place card until No. 1 overall pick Fernando Mendoza was ready to replace him. Minnesota wasn't much of a trade option until the Vikings made themselves one—well, the only one. After Cousins was lured to Atlanta (illegally, as the league eventually ruled), the Vikings fell in and out of love with J.J. McCarthy, fell briefly in like with Kyler Murray and then watched his hamstring explode, watched Carson Wentz melt into a puddle in real time on Monday night, and rejected Max Brosmer as a viable option on the fly.
Indeed it can be said, as Comrade Roth did, that Kirk Cousins has reached the point in his career where he is that rarest of subphyla: an emotional support QB. Funnier still, he has been handed a 6-2 team with a stellar defense—one that would seem like a proper Super Bowl contender, provided you hadn't watched them play offense for even a few minutes. Cousins's task is to immediately legitimize an offense that has been shaming that elite defense all year long. It won't be any easier than it sounds.
Cousins was surely not the Vikings' first choice, but they've been operating in a state of constant frantic worry since they decided that McCarthy was too me-forward and insufficiently we-winning. The quarterback market has been a lunar landscape for the past several years, but this season has been a carnage-palooza that has left teams grasping for the shiniest moon rocks they can find. Eleven of the 32 NFL teams have had to start two different quarterbacks so far. The Vikings are one of those, but then again, so are the Chicago Bears and New York Giants, so maybe this is a development without consequence.
The difference is that the Bears are 6-2 with a decided preference, and the Giants have McCarthy (unless of course they don't) and a decent lead in a miserable division, while the Vikings are 6-2 and utterly panicked, turning the inconceivable into a coup. And so they were willing go back to someone who left for the magic of Atlanta Falcons football years ago, mostly because they could no longer look at Justin Jefferson and Jordan Addison pulling pouty faces in the huddle while O'Connell made power-nausea noises on the sidelines. Either side could have held a grudge with some justification, but neither is currently in any position to do so.
In all, this is a glorious experiment in the making to see if conventional wisdom is just some familiar clothes worn inside out. If this works, everything we all know is a lie. If it doesn't, of course, everything we all know is a lie anyway. Given the choice between lying and breathing, we would all wear purple tops to match our faces. And if you really can't turn back the clock, and Cousins once again isn't the answer to all that ails the Vikings—well, Carson Wentz is still on the roster and ready to go. Shop accordingly.
