Here a little taste of some reality for you naysayers about Moss. The kind of stuff that gets ignored in sensationlist journalism, the greedy, opportunistic writers that as a whole are no better than the National Enquirer. Maybe some pregnant aliens living in a trailer can abduct them to meet elvis.
When neighborhood kids got word that Moss was around for his son's birthday party, they showed up for autographs. But Moss declined, saying it was a private time to share with his family.
The autograph hounds disappeared, but one enterprising kid showed up on the hill beside the Offutts' two-story house wearing a hand-scrawled T-shirt that said: "Randy Moss Is My Hero."
The Moss scowl was replaced by a private smile among family members.
"We all started laughing," Frank recalled. "And Randy's mom gave him that look and Randy yelled out: 'Whaddya got?' He had two cards and Randy said: 'I'll sign one.' Then he smiled and invited three kids on the porch and signed whatever they wanted."
Moss' fondness for children appears genuine. He's said to be a doting father. He has footed the bill for busloads of West Virginia kids to ride to the Cedar Point Amusement Park in Ohio every July.
In Minnesota, he has handed touchdown passes to kids such as Chad Knapp, who used a wheelchair but is now walking. And he invited a South Dakota girl with leukemia to training camp and to the Metrodome, and he visited her in the hospital.
When a St. Paul mother was murdered and her child testified in court wearing a Moss jersey, Moss invited the youngster to join the team on the field before a home game. He also gives football tickets to kids at St. Joseph's Home for Children in south Minneapolis.
Brad Madson, the Vikings' community relations director, said Moss typically requests no TV cameras at his charity stops.