When the "Love Boat" scandal sent reputation-destroying shrapnel flying around the Vikings locker room, owner Zygi Wilf commissioned an exhaustive code of conduct.
Wilf missed the days of Onterrio Smith and his Whizzinator, and Keith Millard telling cops that his arms were more powerful than their guns, and the drug-smuggling allegations aimed at Donald Igwebuike. Wilf had yet to deal with Brett Favre playing a "Monday Night Football" game in the New York area as tabloids reported on his alleged harassment of Jenn Sterger.
Until the Love Boat scandal, Wilf probably had no idea that an NFL locker room could be a cesspool.
Now, he knows what everyone who has worked in an NFL locker room knows: If any team was legally forced to reveal what is said behind the scenes, that team would be embarrassed.
I won't take a side in the Vikings' legal battle with Chris Kluwe, because I couldn't stand to be aligned with either.
In one corner stands a former punter who claims the Vikings released him because of his activism. He's wrong. The Vikings cut him because punters who become a pain in the rear while making more than a million dollars a year always will get cut, as will punters whose performance declines.
Kluwe's stated goals are admirable. We should applaud his efforts to eradicate homophobia and religious intolerance. But the same man who claimed to be offended by special teams coach Mike Priefer's homophobic statements made light of child rape.
In the other corner stands an organization that has lightly punished Priefer, with a three-game suspension that could be shortened to two games, and a $100,000 gift to gay, lesbian and transgender charities. A hundred grand? The Vikings spend that much on cortisone.