and I'm not gonna take it anymore! Alright, maybe I will take it some more. But I am mad! And I feel justified in my anger. Who am I mad at? The media. I'm angry with what I feel is "emotional journalism." I'm specifically mad at the criticism leveled at Jay Cutler. I think its' extremely unprofessional to throw out accusations of immaturity. These so-called "experts" sit perched like vultures, awaiting the phrase; any phrase, that can be construed or misconstrued as an attempt to throw someone under the bus. If Jay says, "we played bad," they can accuse him of attacking his receivers. If he says, "we need to score more points," they can accuse him of attacking his defense. I know, I know; that's what they're paid to do. I get it. But an accusation of immaturity is hard to disprove. Think about it. If you say he's slow, let's look at his 40 time. If you say he takes too many risks, let's look at his TD/INT ratio. If you say he's inaccurate, stats will bear out the truth. If you say he's immature, well...ok?

I have referenced, numerous times, how the media always railed on Peyton Manning for his supposed inability to "win the big one." Nevermind that only one QB can boast the honor of "winning the big one" each year. Nevermind that football is a team sport. "He couldn't do it in college, and he can't do it on the big stage," they'd say. Question: did anyone ever hear one of these "experts" say, "You know, I was wrong about that guy. He can win the big one!" I never did. Instead, the media jumps him from the choke artist to one of the greatest of all time. I like Peyton. But my complaint isn't about him. It's about irresponsible accusations by the media.

Jay had a bad game. So did his receivers and tight ends. The stats bear that out. But questioning his maturity? How could ANYONE defend their maturity? Does competitiveness make you immature? Or should it be based on, oh, I don't know, running a dogfighting ring, shooting yourself in the leg, getting drunk and running over a pedestrian, etc...? And his accusers? He's been accused of being immature by a certain coach that blew a head gasket over a question about whether or not his team will make the playoffs. The playoffs? The playoffs? Even Da Coach blew a head gasket when told of comments by a certain Defensive Coordinator. Again, my point simply is that I wish the media would tread lightly when making accusations that can not easily be defended by stats and police blotters. And until they do, I guess I'll continue to be mad as hell!     

As we find ourselves on the cusp of yet another NFL season, I once again find myself pondering what the Chicago Bears mean to ME. My wife, on numerous occasions, has accused me of being an obsessed Bears fanatic. She first made the accusation as I intently watched the Combine, wondering who the Bears would select. She accused me again when I mentioned my excitement during the Draft, watching all of Day 1 just in case the Bears traded back into the first or second round. She accused me of being obsessed on Father's Day, even while giving me a brand new Orange Cutler jersey. Heck, she even accused me of it as I planned my days around watching every preseason Bears game on NFLN (twice). Maybe she's onto something?

So, in the face of these accusations, I was forced to stop and think about what the Chicago Bears mean to me. I've always been a Bears fan, having grown up in a town just across the border in Indiana. But at 18, I definately took it up a notch. I joined the USAF in 1983 and by 1984, landed at a small Air Base in Germany. I didn't know anyone, as I walked into my Squadron's breakroom, that first day. Although I tried to look cool, I was extremely nervous. An hispanic dude walked up to me and asked, "Where you from?" I answered, "A small town in Indiana, close to Chicago." The next question? "Bears fan?"

As I continued my career, I found that this same pattern would follow every time, whether I was the new guy, or whether I was merely walking up to some nervous new kid to make him feel more comfortable. The statement always followed a "Oh yeah? Me too!" or  "Hey Joe, you got another Bears fan!" Immediately we would break into players names, stats, and expectations. Sometimes we were positive. Sometimes. But regardless, there was always that immediate bond of two people on the other side of the world rooting for the same hometeam. We were color-blind. Ethnicity took a back seat to who your favorite team was. Rather than black and white, it was orange & blue, or silver & blue, or green & yellow. And even when a dude's team flat sucked, leaving him completely heartbroken, you always said something positive, like, "Yeah, but that Johnny Blank, he's gonna be a superstar for you guys!" And they'd always agree!

So, in a sense, the Bears kinda traveled with me throughout my life, as my perennial ice-breaker and friend-finder. I suppose, as more and more people leave their hometowns in search of better employment opportunities, this pattern sort of plays itself out with most of the professional sports teams. I recently read that the Chicago Bears are worth a little over a billion dollars today. I'd have to argue that they've been worth much more than that to me for most of my adult life. Yeah, looking at it, I suppose my wife is right. I am an obsessed Bears fanatic.      

I was fortunate enough to have witnessed, firsthand, the Chicago vs Denver preseason game. Although much has and will be made of the demonic boos and hisses that seemed to flow down the stands and wash onto the field everytime Jay as-much-as exposed a toe to the field, what probably won't be talked about is the wonderful cheers and applauses that also came form the same area throughout the game. Yes, my friends, Chi-Town was well represented at this magical event. Am I exaggerating by decribing this as a "magical" event? Perhaps. Maybe not. Depends on your opinion and sensibilities, I suppose. You see, I haven't been "home" for years. I spent 20 years stationed all over the world. Still, I ALWAYS kept my Bears close to my heart. I watched Superbowl XX through a gasmask at o-dark thirty while hunkered in a musty building during a chem warefare exercise in Germany. Because of my service, even in my mid -forties, I've been to only a handful of games. So, to me, there was magic, here.

The magic of this game wasn't the importance of it; it was, after all, just a preseason game. The magic wasn't the hype of Jay Cutler going back to face his nemesis Josh McDaniels, nor the way Jay Cutler exercised his demons and slapped a muzzle on his detractors. We know the media will continue to question his mental fortitude throughout his career, much the way they railed on Peyton until he finally "won the big one!" The magic, in my humble opinion, was in the mile-high walk down a winding ramp from the fifth level (yeah, we were in the nose-bleeds) to the exit of Invesco Field. The winding ramp enabled us to continually see the same group of people over and over. And everytime a certain guy, whose crusty blue and orange face was dis-figured from three-plus hours of smiling, yelling, and probably drinking, would see me wearing my bright orange Cutler jersey, he would point and scream "Da Bears" at the top of his lungs. The entire crowd would then erupt in the same chants and joyous screams. I must have high-fived that dude 20 times by the time I reached the exit. I figure my wife and I must have high-fived about 50 different people, all told.

Personally, I prefer to watch my games at home surrounded by my family and friends. I have the ticket and a 42 and my wife goes all out making a spread and even baking muffins (weird, but the guys love'em.) I don't have to deal with drunks (yeah, there was at least one obnoxious guy looking for a beating) or long lines to get food or use the restroom. And with Jay Cutler's tight missile passes, you MUST have Instant Replay to see if he receivers were able to maintain their grip as they roll to the ground.  

Still, if I were to put a value on the price of watching a live Bears game, I would seriously have to factor in the walk down the winding mile-high ramp to the exit of the building. As the commercial so-famously quoted, it was "priceless!"

If I had a wish, I would probably choose (after all of the usual stuff like world peace, disease cures,etc..) that the 32 NFL teams start their own legitimate farm teams. We'd have the Chicago Bear Cubs, the Miami Fins, the San Diego Bolts, the Dallas Pokes, etc. This league would run after the NFL ended, giving us competitive pro football all year round! The franchises would own their farm teams, utilizing the same venues, the same offensive and defensive philosophies, and even the same fan-bases but with second tier coaching staffs and players. Their drafts could even be combined, adding additional rounds. This would not only give the nation more games; it would also give many players an opportunity to prove themselves worthy of the "next step." And it would give us an extra 16 weeks of competitive footbalI!  think alot of people are put off by the other major sports because of the amount of games they have. Teams can literally take several games "off" and still make the playoffs. But with the NFL's farm teams, they, too, would have 17 weeks and then the playoffs. With the NFL's popularity arguably at an all-time high, I believe people would attend the games and/or pay for a Sunday Ticket-like package (if somewhat cheaper than the NFL) to watch these games. I just think its time for the NFL to finally put the death nail in the heart of the competition and give the nation what it wants: year-round competitive football!