Every time Randall Cunningham dropped back in 1998, it felt like something ridiculous was about to happen. Moss streaking down the sideline. Cris Carter working the middle like a surgeon. Robert Smith breaking a run that looked routine until it suddenly wasn’t. That Vikings offense didn’t just score points. It overwhelmed people.
Minnesota finished 15 and 1 and put up 556 points, an NFL record at the time. Think about that number for a second. This was the late 90s, not the modern era where everyone throws for 5,000 yards. The Vikings averaged nearly 35 points per game and made elite defenses look slow. Defensive coordinators spent all week preparing and still ended up shaking their heads by halftime.
Cunningham’s comeback season felt unreal. After bouncing around the league and nearly disappearing from the spotlight, he threw 34 touchdowns against just 10 interceptions and posted a 106.0 passer rating. But the real shockwave came from a rookie wearing number 84. Randy Moss didn’t just arrive in the NFL. He detonated it. Seventeen touchdown catches, countless deep balls that turned Metrodome noise into something closer to a jet engine.
Week after week, the highlights stacked up. Thanksgiving against Dallas where Moss torched the Cowboys for three long scores. Blowouts where the offense looked like it was running a different playbook than the rest of the league. Even close games felt tilted because you knew Minnesota could strike in one play.
And yet, Vikings fans already know how this story twists.
The NFC Championship Game against Atlanta on January 17, 1999 felt like a coronation waiting to happen. Gary Anderson, perfect all season, hadn’t missed a single field goal or extra point. Late in the fourth quarter, Minnesota led 27 to 20 and lined up for a kick that would have pushed the lead to two scores. Inside the Metrodome, people were already thinking about the Super Bowl.
The miss didn’t just shock the crowd. It changed the energy of the entire game. Atlanta tied it, dragged Minnesota into overtime, and suddenly the most explosive offense in football never touched the ball again. One deep pass from Chris Chandler to Terance Mathis ended it. Silence. Disbelief. A season that felt historic suddenly felt unfinished.
That’s what makes 1998 so complicated for Vikings fans. It wasn’t just a great offense. It was an offense that felt inevitable. They had speed everywhere, confidence everywhere, and a quarterback playing the cleanest football of his career. When people talk about all time offenses, this team belongs in every conversation.
But legacies in Minnesota aren’t built on numbers alone. They’re built on moments that almost became history.
The 1998 Vikings didn’t just fall short. They reminded everyone that even the greatest scoring machine the NFC had ever seen still had to survive one more snap.