A Chicago Bears fan Away from Chicago

Being born October of 1986 was the worst possible moment for a squalling Chicago Bears fan to come into the world. I missed the only Super Bowl the franchise has won, and I was too young to remember the solid, if ultimately disappointing, seasons of 1986, 1987, 1988, 1990 and 1991. So while others grew up watching Ditka and Payton and McMahon, I grew up watching Dave Wannstedt. It leaves much to be desired when I remember my childhood.

Or, to put it another way, Rex Grossman and Mike Tomczak have the most Bears playoff wins as starting quarterbacks in my lifetime. And despite that, I’m still a Bears fan.

Upstate New York, where I was born, had nary another Bears fan in sight. It was Giants, Jets and Bills country, with heavy doses of Yankees in the spring and summer. My family – while primarily baseball fans – were Giants fans in the winter. Bears games on network TV in the Northeast were an endangered species, especially as the team drifted further into the 1990s with a series of now-blissfully forgettable seasons.

While my parents and brother followed Don Mattingly in the summer and a forgettable Giants team in the winter, I followed the Bears, and to the best of my recollection, without reason. I suspect it was a logical growth from my already illogical support for the Cubs, but I also think it had a good deal to do with Tecmo Super Bowl, where, with Neal Anderson, even third and long was a running down for the Bears.

As I grew up, Anderson – my favorite player – retired, and the Bears descended from their mid- to late-80s glory into a 90s funk, where a good season constituted a playoff win over a mediocre Vikings squad followed by a shellacking by the 49ers (the 1994 season, for those who have blocked out the Wannstache era). Except for 1994, the Bears spent the better part of my childhood mucking about in the 4-12 to 7-9 range, doing just well enough to land a good draft number they could mangle with a Curtis Enis or Cade McNown.

It was a particularly dark period for a franchise that, in the Super Bowl era, has had its clock set to midnight much of the time.

But those eras are what we endure for a season like 2001, right?

That season marked the only time I knew what it was like to feel your team – my team – was the blessed team in the league, and that anyone they played was destined to lose in overtime when a tipped pass landed in Mike Brown’s hands. It was also the first time when every Sunday I was certain the Bears would win.

Jan 31, 2015; Phoenix, AZ, USA; Chicago Bears former linebacker Brian Urlacher on the red carpet prior to the NFL Honors award ceremony at Symphony Hall. Mandatory Credit: Mark J. Rebilas-USA TODAY Sports

With Colvin, ‘Lach and Holdman patrolling the middle, Trayler and Washington clogging the lanes and Brown patrolling deep, how could we lose?

But we did, of course. The offense sputtered in that home loss to the Eagles, and the defense couldn’t push us over the top. It sounds like the eulogy for all Bears’ seasons.

And then it was right back to normal, with a string of poor finishes in the following years, hoping the draft would right the ship and waiting for the offense to emerge from the 1950s. I was still in the Northeast, where my infrequent chances to watch the Bears on TV (still too young to watch games at a bar, at this point) because I was stuck watching the Jets and Bills mitigated the Bears’ struggles and my own growing frustrations with the franchise’s inability to consistently contend.

The 2006 season was the first Bears season I went into with confidence. We had a dominant offensive line and defense, and now we had two good running backs in  Cedric Benson and Thomas Jones that should help us avoid having to let Grossman or Kyle Orton throw too much.

And we had Devin Hester, a pick I hated at the time because I didn’t think he’d ever be anything more than a kick returner. And I was right; he couldn’t play defense and he ended up a mediocre receiver. But he only turned into the best kick returner in the history of the league, and for several seasons he was our best offense and the only excitement the team provided.

Dec 9, 2013; Chicago, IL, USA; Chicago Bears wide receiver Devin Hester (23) returns a kick off against the Dallas Cowboys during the first quarter at Soldier Field. Mandatory Credit: Mike DiNovo-USA TODAY Sports

It started dominantly, and even as Rex struggled and the defense wavered in the second half of the season, I was confident. We survived Seattle in the playoffs, lambasted New Orleans, and our defense and running game were going to beat Peyton Manning.

It was a memorable Super Bowl in two ways – it was the only Bears team I’ve seen in the Super Bowl. And I might have knocked myself unconscious watching it.

I was at college. When it started, and Hester did his Hester thing, I started jumping around my dorm room, eventually smashing my head into the door frame. I remember nothing from my fall down to the ground – whether I was out cold or not I don’t know – but I remember scrambling to my feet only to realize I’d performed the Three Stooges stunt in front of about five people.

The rest of the game was a lesson in frustration. The offense sputtered; the defense did just enough to keep us in the game, but couldn’t quite put us over the top. Like I said about the 2001 loss: the same eulogy for most Bears seasons.

And then it was right back to mediocrity. 7-9. 9-7. 7-9.

I won’t go through the litany of the last few seasons, which I think were some of the more frustrating in my Bears history because of their promise but ultimate futility. Suffice it to say that I’ve never lost my fandom for Chicago’s team, even when I’ve never lived anywhere near Chicago. Now that I’m older, I’m in a position to watch the Bears each week, and even when I can’t, I’ve been able to listen to their games. I wouldn’t have a fall or winter Sunday any other way.

Which is what brought me here, where I can write and listen to other Bear maniacs, even when we don’t agree on everything. That’s what makes this work. We don’t always think the same, but we always have the same goal. Whether the Bears win with or without Jay Cutler is irrelevant. I just want them to win. I know you do, too.

We’re going to fix this, whether it takes one season or three. And no short-term, duct-tape measures (I think they’re called Emery measures in the NFL) this time. I’ll sacrifice one or two rough years for a sustained period of glory afterward. And maybe even a Super Bowl. Or two.