Kevin Hagstrom Betwixt the haunting ghosts, moaning ghouls and cackling witches you’ll find one costume trick-or-treating from door-to-door who can spook us all come Halloween night. Dennis Rodman? Please. Sam Cassell? Too extraterrestrial. The Undertaker? He’s something else entirely. This man is so frightening that I can barely type his name… Minnesota Vikings quarterback Tavaris Jackson. The guy sends me chills for all of his ills. If not for Jackson’s broken index finger, Minnesota head coach Brad Childress would actually be starting this monster. Jackson is more disturbing to watch than any of the “Nightmare on Elm Street” flicks where Freddy Kruger slices and dices victims like Emeril slices meat on his cooking show. Jackson can’t complete a pass for the life of him, or one of his victims, connecting with targets at a 45.9 percent rate. Nor can he really do anything (48.7 quarterback rating), except suck on the lifeblood that is an otherwise OK football team. He’s so heinous that his receivers live in fear that, by never seeing a hallowed ball come their way, they won’t ever be able to cash-in on a free-agent deal somewhere else. It doesn’t stop there. Like a zombie, Jackson’s play wakes other deranged personas from the dead. Ray Lewis, an accused Killer! Killer Night!, will rise from the darkness to feast on the floating pigskin thrown by Jackson (no, not Michael). Pacman Jones shall return to strip more than just burlesque queens. And Vinny Testaverde, the world’s oldest man, Alzheimer’s and all, may extend his incessant career by finding a job with the purple and gold next year. I think I’ve made myself clear that if you’re looking to provide a scare tonight go as Jackson. But beware. You just may never be able to throw again. Point: Childress’ pure folly. Ben Voelkel When it comes to Halloween, there are no decisions more important than what to be. As a sports fan, you will naturally be drawn to a costume that reflects your interest in athletics. There are countless options for picking the sports identity you choose to don for an evening (and early morning) of revelry. You could go the snarky, smart route and parody something in sports news today, like dressing up as Michael Vick’s dogs or Barry Bonds’ steroid needle. The risk you run with that line of costumes is some sports-illiterate folk not understanding your costume, leading to an awkward, time-consuming attempt at an explanation that still renders the dumbfounded unamused. You could try for the team concept, order some jerseys and go with some friends as a professional sports team. This has its benefits, because even if you get separated from the group, you still have a reasonable costume. Or, you could completely cop out and throw on the jersey you have sitting in your closet and go “as” that player. But the best sports Halloween costume is equal parts genius, convenience and spookiness. Throw on a facial tattoo, find some boxing gloves and get intoxicated enough to not make sensible sentences and voila — you are Mike Tyson. This costume really works well for a multitude of reasons. First, Tyson is one of the scariest humans on the face of the earth, athlete or not. What’s worse, some goofy Scream mask or a man who once bit another man’s ear off? Second, if your festivities wind up ending with you spending the night in jail, you can plead your case that you were only taking your costume to the extreme and acting out your character. Odds are it won’t get you anything more than a scornful look from the judge, but it’s worth a shot. Finally, you can say the most outlandish things you can think of (“I want to eat his children”) and, for once, no one will even bat an eye. Iron Mike. Winner by KO.