I’ve been pretty sour about Minnesota sports in recent years. The epic ineptitude of most Gopher teams, the dismal performances of our pro basketball and hockey squads, the repeated postseason fizzles of the Twins, the absolute kick in the gonads called “12 Men in the Huddle” — it all combined to disenchant me.

Me! The only person at Fast Horse who can personally remember all four Vikings Super Bowl losses! My colleague Bob Ingrassia last year ran the numbers and wrote a Peepshow post proving that we’re in the worst era ever for Minnesota sports.

And with the Vikings posting a Steckelian record of failure this year, the news that Justin Morneau is still having post-concussion symptoms and another likely NIT berth on tap for Tubby, there wouldn’t seem to be much to sweeten my sour outlook.

But.

The other night I actually turned on the TV because I wanted to catch the last quarter of the Timberwolves game. And even though the team squandered a winnable contest, I found that I cared a little. I wanted to see Kevin Love go for 25 and 15. I wanted to see if Ricky Rubio is really as good as everyone says he is (and I was on the record dissing him before he arrived).

In caring about the T-Wolves, even a little bit, I amazed myself. A seed has been planted. Let’s see if it takes root.