What the Hell?

Remember one of those nights when you were feeling a little tired or sluggish, maybe on a Sunday, and you didn't really feel like going out. A friend talks you into it. "Only for an hour or so," you said. Your destination wasn't promising, your expectations were low and you absolutely positively weren't drinking. Then, you get there. There was a band playing that you never heard of and they kicked ass. A bunch of people you knew showed up and they were fired up. The drinks started flowing; you were singing and dancing; you got home at 3:00 a.m. and didn't even mind that you had to get up for work/class at 7:00 a.m. It was a memorable night, but a night you couldn't repeat with a plan or a goal. Unexpectedly, it was as much fun as you could ever have.

That was Sunday night in Indy. No one had lower expectations for this game than me. It was about class, like in horse racing. They had it; we didn't. 60 minutes later, the Bears had dominated the Colts. I can't believe I just wrote that sentence. They controlled the line of scrimmage all night. Who were those impostors on the offensive line? Forte is the real deal, but I could have run through those holes. What the hell is going on out there?

Never doubt this defense. I won't. They were flying around like Killer Bees. Some tackling needs to be better (Kevin Payne), but how about them Bears. Just great. They overcame the mistakes, especially Hester's folly (which finally got Lovie to crack the "Lovie Face"), like a real competitive football team.

All that being said, I worry that the consistency will not be there. I fear that this version of Bears will torment me all season. Can we recapture the magic? I like Kyle Orton. I like his confidence, his courage and his head. But his receiving corps is still a pupu platter. What will happen when the opposition loads up for the run? You see what happens when you can run it well, so well that you are running the ball on third down, converting first downs regularly. Even Ron Turner can't fuck up play calls. I will not indulge my urge to gush. It was a great moment for a Bear fan. The moments over. Here come the Panthers.

Did I mention that this dominant performance was ON THE ROAD! Sorry, I gushed.

John Madden says that every NFL fan is devastated by Tom Brady's season-ending injury. I say "Fuck him!" He cavorted around all summer with his "new-style American girlfriend," flipping the bird to the football gods. He blew a 18-0 season in the Super Bowl. Any jinx-fearing football player would have holed up in Apollo Creed's gym from Rocky 3 and emerged for camp looking like mini-Terminator muscled QB. I don't feel bad. Maybe he will come down to earth, taking over Ditka's role as spokesman for Cialis with all of his free time.

That movie "Sixteen Candles" really holds up. Describing the Bears on Sunday, in the words of Farmer Ted, "I'm at a loss."