MINNEAPOLIS -- The air at the Metrodome was pungent with the odor of vengeance.

Viking fans didn't forget the 41-0 drubbing the Giants handed them last January. Randy Moss set the tone with a 28-yard TD on the opening drive, and for a few moments the crowd noise reached a fever pitch. But with four seconds left in the first quarter, after Tiki Barber skipped into the end zone, tying the score, the crowd and the team came down from it's emotional high. It was then that thoughts turned to Monday night's other vengeful subplot -- Kelci Stringer's planned $100 million wrongful-death lawsuit against the Vikings.

Just left of where Barber scored, along the wall of the north end zone, there was a not-so-subtle reminder that retribution wouldn't be limited to the field. Hanging along that wall were 13 six-foot-tall purple banners, each one bearing the name of a Viking player and the name of his charity. Wedged in between Otis' Troop and Randy's Purple PeopleEaters, is a banner emblazoned Korey's Crew -- for the late Korey Stringer.

After the teams entered the tunnel at halftime, the other plot unfolds. In retiring Stringer's jersey, Vikings owner Red McCombs and Stringer's widow, Kelci, share the same uncomfortable space. At midfield, the combatants are surrounded by Viking greats like Alan Page, Carl Eller and Jim Marshall. Their solemn and grizzled presence gives the tribute a fallen-comrade theme that just seems all too familiar these days.

In the middle of the circle stood a frame on a tripod, draped by a purple shroud, covering Stringer's No. 77.

As McCombs takes the podium, there's a smattering of boos. The 64,283 fans are fully aware of the millions Kelci Stringer stands to collect from the team. And they know that early last week, the team went public about finding a bottle of "Ripped Fuel" in Stringer's locker -- fueling rumors that the ephedrine-based supplement led to Stringer's death in August.

McCombs, wearing an impossibly ugly purple blazer, makes the required statements. "Korey was the ultimate team player," he says in a slow drawl. Stringer was an offensive lineman, a man whose job description was to protect the passer and move people out the way for the runner. What else could he be but a team player?

Next to McCombs stands Kelci Stringer. Fashion-wise, she's his polar opposite. Wearing a blue green blouse and denim skirt, she stands staright-backed and dignified. Earlier in the week Stringer said that she would do the tribute, then leave the field and "put the gloves back on." That metaphor comes to life in this ring of people at midfield. For just a moment, gazing from beneath a black hat, Stringer actually stared down her opponent like a fighter at the weigh-in.

But after she had taken the podium, Stringer softened as she thanked all the Vikings for their support. She even accepted a half-hearted hug from McCombs. She wore the sad smile of a woman who is fueled -- at least for now -- by this fight against McCombs and the Vikings.

But should she succeed, her victory will mirror the one on the field Monday night. Sure, the Vikings' 28-16 win gives them a 4-5 record, and momentum to start the second half of the season. But it doesn't eclipse what's already happened. The Giants, not the Vikings, are the NFC champions. And Korey Stringer is still dead.

Not even the sweet aroma of financial victory can overpower the odor of tragic loss.

Alan Grant, a former NFL defensive back, writes football for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at alan.grant@espnmag.com.