Line of Succession

By now most have heard that Carl P., the grandaddy of 'em all, the patriarch, the owner, the man so many of us loved to hate, has passed away.

I know that most fans (myself included) have had few positive things to say about Carl. He rarely spent a dime to keep our best players, despite having more money than almost every other owner. He demanded tax payer money for a new stadium, despite having more money than all but 101 men in America. And he tried to sell us out for a little bit of cash after our most recent renaissance had just begun. 

But at the same time, we aren't cruel here in Minnesota. We aren't the kind of people who take joy in others despair. I saw Carl come and eat. I served him Pepsis. I watched him happily eat turkey sandwiches with the crusts cut off. I got to know his employees, people who knew a different man and thought the world of him, and, as they mourn him, I can't be glad that he's gone.

Even though we wear devil horns around here, we send our condolences to the Pohlad's, their friends and extended family, and all those who knew and loved Carl, and look forward to making fun of his successor, whomever it may be.