The Minnesota Vikings opened 2025 on the edge of something new. JJ McCarthy, the rookie quarterback they traded up for, was supposed to usher in a new era — poised, confident, fresh. Week 1 hinted at that promise. Week 2 crushed it.
Atlanta didn’t just beat the Vikings. They mauled them. By the end of the fourth quarter, McCarthy was limping off with a high ankle sprain, and Vikings fans were left wondering if Kwesi Adofo-Mensah had mortgaged too much on the Michigan kid.
Enter Carson Wentz.
A Familiar but Inverted Story
Wentz has been here before, only in reverse. In 2017–18, he was the MVP frontrunner, the golden child who went down with injury before Nick Foles took over and delivered a Super Bowl. The Eagles raised the Lombardi, while Foles, not Wentz, secured immortality.
That was seven years ago. Since then, Wentz has played for five different franchises. He’ll start Sunday for his sixth team in six seasons — something no quarterback in NFL history has ever done:
- 2020: Eagles (12 games)
- 2021: Colts (17 games)
- 2022: Commanders (7 games)
- 2023: Rams (1 game)
- 2024: Chiefs (1 game)
- 2025: Vikings
Journeyman? Yes. But also survivor.
As Wentz put it this week:
“I grew up rooting for this team. It’s one of those things, when you play long enough, you kind of forget about those things. Running out of that tunnel this week will probably hit me a little bit different.”
The Brosmer Detour
The subplot was Max Brosmer, Stillwater’s own, a local legend-in-waiting who lit up the preseason. Fans clamored for him. But Kevin O’Connell went with Wentz.
The reason is clear: Justin Jefferson, Jordan Addison, and T.J. Hockenson aren’t here for a developmental year. A month of Brosmer could have been charming; a month of Wentz could keep the Vikings in contention.
What Wentz Still Brings
Strip away the reputation, and Wentz still flashes competence. In his last meaningful run (2021 with Indy), he threw 27 touchdowns to 7 interceptions, ranked 12th in QBR, and posted a respectable EPA/play of +0.08. Even in his limited snaps with the Rams and Chiefs, his arm strength was evident — the intermediate windows he can hit still jump off film.
The problem, as ever, is pressure. Last year, Wentz’s pressure-to-sack rate sat at 22%, one of the worst marks among spot-starters. Through two weeks of 2025, the Vikings’ offensive line ranks 29th in pass-block win rate, which is like trying to stop a flood with a roll of paper towels.
This is where O’Connell’s scheme matters. Wentz doesn’t need to be Superman. He just needs to be a professional operator. O’Connell echoed that sentiment this week:
“He’s played a ton of football. He’s carried teams on his back before. He is not gonna need to do that. He’s gonna need to just go out there and simply do the things that he’s widely capable of doing.”
That’s code for: Hit Jefferson in stride. Find Addison in space. Let Hockenson chew up the seams. Don’t freelance.
The Practice Buzz
O’Connell also hinted at why he trusts Wentz:
“I don’t think it (the football) hit the ground more than one time.”
That was during Thursday’s practice, when Wentz worked with the first-teamers while McCarthy was away helping deliver his baby. Coaches notice efficiency like that. Veterans know how to show up in moments that feel small to outsiders but huge inside a facility.
What’s at Stake
This is still McCarthy’s team. A high-ankle sprain is annoying, not season-ending. The Vikings need him to develop, and they need him to justify the capital spent to acquire him.
But the NFC North won’t wait. If Wentz steadies the ship for four weeks — even going 2–2 — Minnesota will still be alive in December. If he sputters, the season could slip away before McCarthy is ready.
Wentz, at 32, isn’t chasing MVPs anymore. He’s chasing relevance, competence, maybe even redemption. Sam Darnold did it last year with San Francisco. Ryan Tannehill once did it in Tennessee. Why not Wentz, back home, in purple and gold?
The Bigger Picture
The NFL doesn’t hand out clean narratives. But every so often, it slips into poetry. A North Dakota kid who grew up rooting for the Vikings, now wearing their colors, asked to keep their season alive while holding the place of the quarterback who’s supposed to be their future.
The guy once replaced at his peak now becomes the replacement.
Sometimes football is cruel. Sometimes it’s just weird. For Carson Wentz and the Vikings, this Sunday, it’s both.
EN 
ES
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