NFL – Diary of a Mad Millennial

Have you ever had that feeling when you know something is going to stay the same but you hold out just the tiniest, teensiest, most minuscule little modicum of an iota of a hope that THIS time, things may finally get better? Like, the law averages will work in your favor as opposed to the 9 million times before?

For instance, when your favorite sports team drives the same shitty 1997 Camry that’s barely survived on the freeway despite it’s battered engine, fucked up suspension, and 161,000 miles that’s beaten it into a faded rusted out hunk of shit that’s one wrong turn from crumbling into dust? And instead of trading in the dumbass car for a brand-new, current, from-this-century model that can handle the conditions of modern-day driving, they change the transmission to a slightly newer formula praying that the damn engine doesn’t cook itself and kills the power steering in the middle of making a left turn while trying to beat the oncoming traffic??

Because that’s absolutely what I’m thinking as reports trickle out that general manager Ryan Pace and head coach Matt Nagy are both coming back for another season in Chicago.

WHY on the memories of Sayers, Payton, and Halas I thought NOW would somehow be different, I have absolutely no idea. But one would think after getting pantsed on Nickelodeon of all places that maybe, perchance, your team finally wakes up out of its decades-long hibernation and kicks some asses to the curb.

But, alas, you’re a Bears fan.

Your team doesn’t get the concept of wanting more than being a perpetual disappointment. A roster chock-full of all-pro defenders, a couple of offensive weapons, and the remainder filled out by undrafted free agents, long-past-their-prime vets with bodies held together by Silly Putty and spare tape from the training table – helmed by the same generic-ass Mitch or Kyle or Jay or Rex or like three different Jims, a Shane, and three seconds of a Kordell.

It’s been this way since the end of 1987 at least. Every 5-7 years, a group has an inspiring 11-5, 12-4, or the odd 13-3 season, storms into the playoffs with homefield advantage, and either through being totally outgunned, helmed by the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time, or sheer shitty luck, they lose. The season ends, they miss the playoffs the next year, and then the team spirals back into the center of mediocrity.

Surprising as it may seem, the Bears are rarely a straight up top-10-in-the-draft dogshit Covid-ridden grease fire. The worst it gets is 7-9, something they’ve done 7 times since the NFL installed the 16-game schedule in 1978. In that same amount of time, they’ve gone 9-7 three times, and 8-8 five times, the same record they’ve now had for two years straight under Nagy.

All in all, it’s typical.

Sprinkle in a handful of 11-5’s and 10-6’s, and you’d think this team had won at least one Super Bowl since 1985.

Another hilarious sign of this current regime’s impeccable mediocrity shows itself in one strange little stat: Points Differential, or the difference between the amount of points the Bears offense scored versus the number of points surrendered by the defense.

Three times in Bears history did the team finish with more points scored than allowed by a single-digit margin: 1951, 1977, and 1993 (2, 2, 4 respectively).

The 2020 Bears finished with a Points Differential of 2, something they hadn’t done in 27 years.

I guess it’s an improvement from the PD of -18 of 2019, but that’s irrelevant.

For a regime to generate any confidence, the ideal trajectory of a team would be to go from a 12-4 surprise season to maybe dropping as low as 10-6 before rebounding and winning 11-13 games.

Two years later, and it’s two eight and fucking eights.

Khalil Mack.

Eddie Jackson.

Kyle Fuller.

Akiem Hicks.

Roquan Smith.

Danny Trevathan.

These guys are good. Like, really fucking GOOD.

You have just two of these players on your defense and you’re bound to win at least 10 games…..provided you have an offense that isn’t an old Toyota Camry submerged in the middle of Lake Michigan.

As NFL offenses go, the fucking Edmund Fitzgerald shows more promise than this heap of shit.

Sure, David Montgomery rushed for over 1,000 yards and Allen Robinson notched 1,250 receiving yards.

Aside from rookie slot receiver Darnell Mooney, there’s nothing to be excited about this offense. Hamstrung by Mitchell Trubisky and the festering cadaver of former Super Bowl MVP Nick Foles, the Bears’ more than capable D does all the lifting, heavy and otherwise.

There’s one more piece of this shit puzzle that really ties this whole thing together, however.

Back in 2017, Ryan Pace had $63 million of cap space to work with. In 2018 when Matt Nagy arrived, Pace quickly put that space to use by signing Allen Robinson, Taylor Gabriel, Trey Burton and Cody Parkey (doinkety-doink!). Aside from that grievous last signing, these players all contributed an upgrade to the Bears’ fortunes. The cherry on top came in the form of Khalil Mack. The massive trade and corresponding contract extension instantly vaulted the Bears into overnight contenders, storming through the league that year with a 12-4 run into the Wild Card round against the Eagles.

Then, well, doinkety-doink.

Damn, that sucked. Oh, well, we’ve got Mack! We’ve got a stud in the making in Roquan Smith! Trubisky looked better (note: he absolutely did not look better but I was comforting my fragile mind at the time).

We’ll be just fine!

NARRATOR: They were NOT just fine.

The 8-8 crash back down to earth prompted the Bears to make more moves prior to the 2020 season. Part of their struggles in 2019 were due to the offensive line profusely sucking its own dick, allowing 45 sacks and committing 47 offensive penalties. In 2018, blindside blocker Charles Leno committed six penalties total: 5 false starts, 1 offensive hold and 1 illegal formation. The next year, he doubled that number to 12 penalties total. 7 offensive holds, 3 false starts, 2 illegal use of hands and 1 ineligible downfield receiver (because sure, why not commit the most random fucking foul you can?!).

On top of their lack of professional starting-caliber depth and the loss of long-time right guard Kyle Long, Ryan Pace didn’t sign a single offensive lineman until weeks before OTAs in August.

Nor did he draft any offensive linemen until the 7^th round.

On top of not improving the O-line, Ryan Pace had another issue to take care of: re-signing star wideout Allen Robinson to an extension. Robinson wanted $20 million a year, but the Bears wouldn’t budge from their desire to pay just 15-17 million.

At the time, the Bears had around $5.5 million in cap room before cutting some players to create some space, including two of Pace’s big signings from back in 2018 – Trey Burton and Taylor Gabriel. They’d go on to cut long-time guy-just-waiting-for-his-big-break Leonard Floyd to free up even more cap space. With this newfound freedom, Pace did the smartest thing a GM of a middling franchise could choose to do when trying to put on the tourniquet and stop the bleeding.

He pissed away his money.

First, he signed Jimmy Graham’s 34-year-old busted ass to a two-year, $16 million deal, $9m guaranteed. Then, he dropped $70 million on the recently-rebounded pass rusher Robert Quinn, strengthening a position that frankly could have been improved with picking a much younger and therefore much cheaper rookie to replace the departed Floyd. Quinn’s cap hit is $14.7 million a year.

And then to finalize Pace’s summer of stupidity, he made the best worst-decision I’ve seen in some years. Thanks to Nagy’s lost trust in his titty-kissing QB, the Bears traded a compensatory fourth-round pick to the Jacksonville Jaguars for Big Dick Nick Foles. Along with his reportedly massive schlong, Chicago also inherited his ludicrous $6.6 million a year cap hit.

In Graham, Quinn, and Foles, Pace committed a combined $31.2 million.

31.2 MILLION.

ON. THREE. GUYS.

PAST. THEIR. FUCKING. PRIMES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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*writer rebooting*

*beep-boop-bee-doop-doop*

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Bravo, dingus!!!!!

As a final fuck you to Allen Robinson, Pace extended Tarik Cohen’s contract right before said running back tore the shit out of his ACL in Week 3 at Atlanta.

The Bears never worked out an extension with Robinson, and he’s now let it be known that he’s more than likely getting the fuck out of this hellhole the moment he gets the offer he’s been looking for.

It’s more than worth noting that Robinson expressed his desire to not only remain a Bear for life, but to become one of the all-time greats in franchise history.

So, Ryan Pace rewarded his dedication by fucking around and disgruntling the only worthwhile player on this godforsaken offense. Oh, AND as of this writing, the Bears are projected to be around $187,000 over the salary cap with only 35 out of a total possible 53 players under contract.

And thus, here we find our unlovable dillweeds walking blindfolded into busy traffic. They’ll be ripped apart and splattered into a million pieces, obliterating any chance to finally turn away the tide of generations of suckage.

If only Mitch really was a young Drew fucking Brees.

You see that picture?

Look at that photo.

Tell me what you see.

Do you see four different people wearing the jerseys of the Chicago Bears?

I’ll tell you what I see.

I see the same pale-faced over-rated failed dipshit.

Not ONE of those blank stares contains an individual worth a lick of paint on their own.

They represent the amorphous, unremarkable, non-descript grey void that’s occupied the NFL’s most important position at Soldier Field for as long as I can remember.

And these are just four of the well over 25 other unimportant, unremarkable white guys that have occupied the role of Starting Quarterback of the Chicago Bears – specifically, the four long-time starters since I began seriously watching football back in 2005.

American Idiot was the top of album in the country. Green Day wrote that record as a middle finger to the then-worst administration in US presidential history.

They just as well could easily have been writing about the McCaskeys and their bumbling brain trust of front office cronies.

Those cheapskate fucking skinflints learned it from the best. Papa Bear Halas succeeded in co-founding the National Football League. Other than the two hands-full of pre-merger titles they won before 1964, the last major accomplishment Halas achieved was throwing out Black players for 12 years before finally standing up to the racist piece of shit owner of the formerly-known-as Washington R******s and un-segregating the league he himself segregated!

What a legendary man whose initials should be emblazoned on our jerseys until the end of time!

The majority of Chicago’s retired numbers belong to men like Bill Hewitt, Clyde “Bulldog” Turner, Bronco Nagurski, George McAfee, and even Halas himself – great players instrumental in helping the NFL morph into what it eventually became. But, nonetheless, men whom chiefly played in the ‘40s and ‘50s, long left in the dust of an unrecognizable league that has since supplanted them in memory.

Honoring history is important, yes. But one would prefer it if their favorite team could do so without resorting to running different versions of the goddamn T-Formation for their offense, something that “thrilled the nation” back in the fucking ‘20s. Instead of embracing the modern-day pass-heavy systems that successful WINNING franchises have employed (IN GREEN BAY NO LESS), these jackasses spent the majority of the ‘90s and early 2000’s trying to play “Bear Football” – that is to dominate the opponent with an otherworldly successful defensive unit and a caretaker offense that could score just enough to eek out close wins.

And the damndest thing is it nearly worked in 2006.

Lovie Smith’s 4-3 attacking scheme brought the Bears within two quarters of their second Super Bowl title, and their first since Daaaa Bearrrs of 1985 fame (or the only year that matters to your average braindead Grabowski or Pulaski in the Chicagoland area or anywhere in the country really).

Only problem: Peyton Manning read them like a titty magazine.

Since then, Smokin’ Jay “stabilized” our QB situation for the seven agonizing seasons he gunslinged his way to more wins than any Bears QB has ever achieved…while throwing away the second-most number of interceptions. Second only to the notorious Sid Luckman. A legend of the ‘40s, he’s the last Bears superstar QB, whom also has his number retired.

42.

Keep in mind, the average QB jersey has been anywhere from 1-19 since roughly the ‘60s give or take.

In other words, the last time the Bears had a worthwhile champion quarterback, signal callers wore numbers you’ll find are now worn by special teams linebackers or safeties, a.k.a. not superstars.

This may mean nothing to someone who doesn’t give a shit about sports.

For a person obsessed with his stupid teams, this is yet another slap in my face.

An insult to my eyes.

Condescending mediocrity.

And it never ends.

This illustrious season saw our heroes start off 5-1 only to careen into a mountainside, cratering to 5-7 and on pace for a top-10 draft pick and thus a shot at possibly – finally – landing a franchise quarterback.

And then they…..rebounded.

Four weeks in a row against the league’s fodder, two of whom right in the top-10 of next year’s draft as of this writing, and now the morons find themselves one win or one Arizona Cardinals loss away from making the playoffs, albeit in the seventh seed wildcard spot – a playoff position created in response to the pandemic.

It took a literal act of G-d to put this garbage excuse of an organization in this position.

And what do I see online?

I see Bears fans – tormented, disillusioned saps who’ve sat through the same shit I have (in some cases far LONGER than I have) – celebrating.

They’re happy.

They so desperately wish to stave off the inevitable offseason, a period of never-ending draft circle jerks while chasing down the latest obscure rumor about “changes” coming to Chicago, that they WANT this heap of toxic waste to get anally probed on national TV by the corpse of Drew Brees, possibly even Russell Wilson.

Four weeks ago after pissing away an easy win against the Detroit Lions, football’s pre-2016 Chicago Cubs, fans rightly flooded social media with wishes of a season-ending losing streak into the top 10 of the draft board.

Three wins later, and not only should human straightjacket Matt Nagy be commended for un-fucking the situation he fucked up in the first place, he should be given another shot!

The man who spent all of 2019 forcing his entire team to re-watch the double-doink on a never-ending loop in a real-life Clockwork Orange reenactment too much for the Marquis de Sade to bear (intended).

The man who took Mitch Trubisky, an athletic, out-of-the-pocket running quarterback, and beat him into trying to become a pocket passer, promptly overloading the kid with a complicated playbook designed for a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT ARCHETYPE.

The man who refused to give up his atrocious play-calling duties until AFTER five losses in a row and the Bye Week.

That man.

That dunderheaded asshat.

That waste of a fucking headset.

THAT man.

Am I….am I losing it?

I must be out of my mind.

It can’t be possible for this entire fanbase to be so tortured into accepting this current regime merely after they beat a dead Texans squad, a heap of burnt-out Vikings, and the now 1-14 Jags, future home of Trevor Lawrence.

I mean play to win sure, but play to ensure the fucksticks in charge of running the team into the ground stay next year to continue pile-driving towards the Earth’s core?

Maybe it’s this year. Perhaps, I’m too numb to any feeling that even a futile moment of joy can’t lift my spirits. I’m just a football Grinch, hating my own team that I’ve wasted so much emotional capital and bandwidth on.

I’m the asshole.

But how could I NOT be?????

We know what will happen!

The fucking owners will count their checks once the fans can come back, ignore the problem, and mediocrity will reign, undefeated since 1986.

Phew….

……………….

That’s as much effort as I can put into this rant.

Like the title says, call me when these dinguses get a quarterback that’s worth a shit.

They’ve been in hibernation for at least 30 years.

It’s high time I get in on the zero-fucks-given ground floor.