Of all the great misconceptions about Chicago – and there are many – the most perplexing and misinformed is, without a doubt, the common line about our relationship with football, which generally goes like this: the Cubs and Sox divide us, the Hawks are dead to us, the Bulls have something to prove to us, but everyone loves the Chicago Bears. And while this sounds nice, the people who say such things really have no idea just how wrong they are about that last part.
When people from anywhere besides Chicago talk about the Bears, they usually talk about Ditka, or Sweetness, or Singletary, or Dent, or the Punky QB. They conjure up images of real-life Superfans trading notes in impending gridiron destruction at neighborhood bars up and down pull-ASK-y. They talk about sold-out games at historic Soldier Field, and while all of those things are great, those people doing the talking are missing the point: it’s not that we all love the Bears, but they simply win our entertainment vote by default. It’s not that there’s nothing better than watching football, it’s that there’s really nothing better to do on Sunday in Chicago in wintertime than watch football.
Consider the sad histories of both of this town’s baseball franchises and ask yourself how often the Sox or Cubs are on television on a Sunday in October. Ask yourself what you’re going to do with your Sunday when the temperature averages 8 degrees from November to February. Ask yourself where you’d rather be than inside and possibly drunk. Ask yourself what people in Chicago like eating more than ribs, wings, burgers, polishes, brats, chili, and all the other trappings of a pre-football feast. Ask yourself what, exactly, most people have the energy to do in these hateful winters of ours but stay indoors and watch television. And what, pray tell, is on TV on Sunday? Da Bears.
DA BEARSS.
People forget how the Bears, generally speaking, are an historically awful football team. Okay, 1985 was great but there’s a reason people still talk about that year – not so much for what it was, but for what everything since then was not, namely something to be proud of. Something to cheer about. That greatest football team ever assembled? Those were our guys. They play in our stadium. They’re doing it for our city.
You wonder sometimes why other sports don’t instill the same kind of steadfast, ritualistic devotion football does. Why aren’t Indians fans as hardcore as Browns fans? Why don’t A’s fans wear chain mail and skull masks to the ballpark? Why, with the exception of Los Angeles (which doesn’t have an NFL team), New York (which doesn’t count) and Detroit (ha!) is every city more of a football city than, say, a basketball city or a baseball city? Because no matter where you live in America, two things are true: there are always better things to do during the week, and there are always better things to do during the summer.
It is for this and this alone the Chicago White Sox must stay on top. The Bears are favored by most to be the laughing stock of the NFL this year, and there is nothing worse than bundling up, heading out to some dive bar, and spending four hours watching the guys representing your city get mauled on national television. Unfortunately, there’s not much in the way of alternatives. . . unless baseball is on later.
Bad football, hopefully, never had it so good. Believe.