There's a Name for That

Until yesterday, if you’d asked me who’s the best quarterback in the NFL right now, my answer would’ve been Patrick Mahomes of the Chiefs, hands down. This morning, I’m not so sure. Against the visiting Bengals in the AFC Championship game, a GOAT went full gunslinger. With Kansas City up 21-10 in the closing seconds of the first half, Mahomes had second and goal from the one with five seconds left. The smart call—or at least the Monday morning quarterback call—would’ve been to kick a field goal. Instead, Mahomes threw what might best be described as a Bears’ sideline bubble left to Tyreek Hill, who was stopped short of the goal line. A shoutout hear to KC head coach Andy Reid, generally acknowledged as the reigning sideline great/genius. You sent that play in for your quarterback? The Chiefs managed all of three points in the second half and overtime. Still, in the closing seconds of regulation Mahomes had his team on the verge of a winning touchdown at the five-yard line, only to get sacked on consecutive plays while looking for someone to throw the ball to. Then, in overtime, he threw deep only to be intercepted, setting up the Bengals’ winning field goal. So, off that performance, I’d rate Mahomes right up there with Rex Grossman, which is not the sort of comparison I’d ever be expecting to make. I’ll give the 26-year old credit, though. He admitted after the game, “When you’re up 21-3, you can’t lose it. I put that on myself.” Gunslingers aren’t typically that self-aware. Or maybe a GOAT just didn’t have it on a sunny Sunday, late-January afternoon in Kansas City. More and more, I think things play out according to fate. That could be true for gunslingers and GOATS alike.

His Choice

Somewhere, Tom Brady is sitting in a beautiful house with his beautiful wife and children (que Talking Heads’ “Once in a Lifetime”). And he’s asking himself, Is it time? Not that he’ll read this, but Brady has a choice. He can go out on top, like Ted Williams, or hang on too long, like Willie Mays or Bart Starr. The 44-year old led the NFL in touchdown passes this season and by just about every metric comes out as the greatest quarterback of all time. Sorry, chuckleheads, but it’s true. Life in the NFL is a lot like walking in traffic. You can get away with it for a while, if you’re lucky. Brady’s been blessed with luck to match his talent. But there’s a truck out there, whether a linebacker, defensive end or safety, just waiting. David Byrne would know what to do. Brady should, too.

Change?

After reading two stories in today’s sports’ sections, I had to talk to Clare. Women are making inroads into baseball. Maybe. If six degrees of separation matter, then Clare has a really strong connection to the new White Sox director of minor-league operations. That’s because she and Jasmine Dunston were classmates in the same sports administration master’s program. And then we have Katie Krall of Park Ridge getting hired by the Red Sox as a player-development coach at Double-A Portland. “Wow!” exclaimed my daughter on hearing the news about her former classmate. She rightly pointed out that women weren’t getting these kinds of jobs five years ago, which is true. I just wonder what kind of jobs these are. Technically, Dunston’s hiring doesn’t involve breaking new ground because she’s replacing a woman in the same capacity. According to a March 2021 post on a blog run by the team, Grace Guerrero Zwit, Dunston’s predecessor, “impressed her peers by assisting with budgets for minor league affiliates, helping to write international prospect contracts, [and] introducing education programs for young players in the Dominican Republic, among other responsibilities.” To me, that kind of sounds like the role of women in the Catholic Church, heavy on responsibility, light on power. The same goes for player-development coach, but I could be wrong. Time will tell.

Same as the Old Boss?

Let’see. Old Bears’ GM Ryan hired Matt, a coordinator with no head coaching experience, to coach the Munsters. New GM Ryan hires Matt, a coordinator with no head coaching experience, to coach the Munsters. Do you see a pattern? I hope not. Unless the McCaskeys try to lowball their intended hire (and it’s happened), Colts’ defensive coordinator Matt Eberflus will take over from Matt Nagy at Halas Hall. If memory serves, Lovie Smith got the job after being a defensive coordinator for the Rams. Do you see a pattern? I hope not. Eberflus may be hiding his offensive talent under a bushel basket; I hope so. Because, if he isn’t, it’s going to be Lovie and Nagy, 2.0, with much ballyhooed moves on offense (think Jay Cutler and/or Brandon Marshall and/or Martellus Bennett and/or Allen Robinson and/or Trey Burton) adding up to absolutely nothing. But the defensively-reinvigorated Munsters will lead the league in turnover differential. Sorry, but if you don’t commit to throwing over the middle, you don’t win. Does hiring Eberflus show the Bears continue to exist in an alternative reality? I hope not, but I think so.

On the Clock

This is how Bears’ obsessed the Chicago media is—yesterday, a camera crew for one of the local TV stations followed new GM Ryan Poles as he started his first day of work at Halas Hall, at 5:30 AM. Really? What’s the point, that he works hard? Will he work harder than his predecessor, that other Ryan who was also in his thirties when the Bears hired him? If lack of time on the job was a factor, that’s your story, not chasing after someone in the January cold. All that matters is Poles getting it right. He appears close to hiring a head coach. We can only hope in the light of day that it’s somebody willing to throw the ball down the middle for as often as it takes to win.

Dodging Bullets

The daycare where baby Leo goes sent an email over the weekend that he may have been exposed to someone with COVID. They were right. My grandson, daughter and son-in-law have all come down with it. But we’re talking adults who’ve been vaccinated and boosted, so everyone seems to be doing OK. I know this in part from photos Clare sends every couple of hours of Leo smiling and/or playing on the floor. I also know this from the phone call I got from my daughter last night to discuss the HOF voting results. David Ortiz got in, Barry Bonds and Roger Clements didn’t. Ditto Sammy Sosa. This would pretty much be Clare’s ballot. She has next to no tolerance for PEDS’ users, which explains why she’s OK with Ortiz. “Next to” excuses Ortiz’s positive test in 2003, before MLB instituted a crackdown. Big Papi also benefits from the eye test. The extra weight he carried looked to be the product of never missing a meal, not playing with pharmaceuticals. And, as the man said, he never failed a drug test. Bonds, Clemens and Sosa now move on to the next phase, consideration by one or another old-timers’ committee. As Paul Sullivan noted in today’s Tribune, they could very well get in, once a younger generation of voters with a different take on PEDs is seated. But that doesn’t look to be anytime soon. And don’t let me forget to mention Curt Schilling; he’s also headed off the ballot and into old-timers’ limbo. That, or he’ll just stay under the rock where he’s hiding. What an interesting bunch of speeches, if and when they occur. Ortiz will do his best Big Papi while Jim Kaat and Tony Oliva should bring the requisite amount of “Gee whiz, we made it” to the festivities. Gil Hodges, Bud Fowler and Buck O’Neil will also get their due, I imagine. But not the PEDsters, which is good news for a child who happens to be a mother and a onetime player of the game of baseball.

Idiots

If today’s The Athletic is accurate, baseball ownership is dumb beyond belief. According to the story by Evan Drellich, deputy MLB commissioner Dan Halem said his side—management, which the commissioner’s office exists to serve faithfully and without question—is willing to sacrifice games on the regular-season schedule in order to secure concessions. Wait, there’s more. Rockies’ owner Dick Monfort allegedly complained about the pinch some owners are feeling these days, what with costs related to COVID and security. I feel your pain, guys. With inflation at a forty-year high, the costs of truffles and caviar are through the roof. This is what baseball does, scorch the earth in search of advantage over the other side. And when fans grow alienated, somebody comes up with a stupid idea like PEDS-fueled homerun races. Idiots.

Over-the-Middle

I am, admittedly, an armchair quarterback (actually, more of a laying-on-the-floor quarterback, a habit picked up from my father) of a football fan. But maybe if the McCaskeys had spent more time in front of the TV instead of the family box at Soldier Field they’d have a better feel for the game. And maybe that even happened over the weekend, although if you told me one or more McCaskeys was spied sitting in an otherwise empty Soldier Field I wouldn’t be surprised. But if by some miracle they were paying attention to the football being played this weekend, they might have learned something. You can only hope. What should be obvious, even to a direct descendant of George Halas, is that playoff football shows why you have a quarterback. Hint: it’s not just to hand off the ball, which is what the Rams started doing after building up twenty-four point lead against Tom Brady and the Bucs on Saturday. No, you throw the ball. And here’s the important part, all you McCaskeys—you throw the ball over the middle. My God, Patrick Mahomes and Josh Allen put on a clinic in that regard Sunday night, with the Chiefs finally coming out on top 43-36 over the Bills in overtime. In fact, this past weekend stands as an indictment of all things ex-Bears’ GM Ryan Pace, who didn’t see fit to draft Mahomes, Allen or the Bengals’ Joe Burrow, for that matter. Then again, Pace was the GM who had no need for Jimmy Garoppolo or Robbie Gould. And neither did the McCaskeys.

Chucklehead Cheeseheads

Oh, this is precious, this is grand, this is karma. Quick, do you know how many more games the mighty Packers played this season compared to the hapless Bears? One, and they proceeded to lose it at home before a full house of screaming cheeseheads, 13-10 to the visiting 49ers. The mighty—and unvaccinated—Aaron Rodgers led his team to a touchdown on the initial series. But after that, nothing other than a field goal. Ten points total for the mighty Rodgers and his high-octane offense. Hardy-har-har. Oh, but it was Packers’ weather, with a temperature of 14 degrees at gametime with a windchill factor of zero. That made it the fifth-coldest playoff game in the history of Lambeau Field. San Francisco’s Jimmy Garoppolo had never started an NFL game in under 40 degrees. That compared to the mighty Rodgers, who went into the game having started thirty-six times with the temperature 32 degrees or lower, going 28-8. Why, he was even 6-3 in the postseason when Jack Frost was nipping at mere mortals. Make that 6-4. And here’s the sweetest part. Ex-Bear Robbie Gould kicked the winning forty-five yard field goal with time expiring. This was Gould’s twentieth straight field goal without a miss in the playoffs. It must make the fans on the tundra so mad to know that a former player from the team their mighty quarterback owns did them in. They must feel like a bunch of chuckleheads wearing those stupid cheeseheads.

Take a Chill Pill

This morning was one of those days I would’ve benefitted from the Tribune’s “if it don’t fit on six [pages], we don’t run it” approach to daily sports’ coverage. That way, I could’ve escaped the irritation caused by reading the lead story in the Sun-Times’ expanded sports section. It started with “WINDOW CLOSING” and went down from there—“Sox figure to be World Series contenders again this season, but given that some key players’ contracts are nearing expiration, they better win it soon.” Who knew that stoking the hot stove involved jacking up my blood pressure? Talk about dumb. We’re supposed to feel the pressure of “fleeting” time because Yasmani Grandal, Lance Lynn and Liam Hendriks all have contracts that could expire after 2024 while Lucas Giolito and Tim Anderson could also walk in the not-too-distant future. Give me a break. Adopting a “win now” attitude when you’re already winning, or want to repeat, is poison. All you need for confirmation of that is to look at what Kenny Williams did after the Sox won in 2005; goodbye, Gio Gonzalez, Aaron Rowand and Chris Young. The really good organizations—and I’m talking about you, Atlanta—plan to win year after year after… It's all a balancing act. A team has to develop and keep the players it can and deal or let go of the players it no longer wants or knows it can’t sign In other words, you try to sign Giolito and Anderson, but, if you can’t, you trade them for even younger talent who can keep you in contention. Last season, Sox actually came up with young players along the lines of Jake Burger and Gavin Sheets, both of whom contributed when called upon. Sorry, but I’m not trading them because of some need to “win now.” Rick Renteria was the wrong guy in the wrong place during the 2020 playoffs. If anything, Tony LaRussa was the wronger guy last October. You want to talk about closing windows and fleeting time, fine, but realize it’s the coaches and managers who speed or slow the process. Again, look at how Atlanta went about things, first in the 1990s and now. Like my father said, don’t talk like a… A broken orifice is an ugly thing.

Sounds of Silence

For reasons that escape me, I have the reputation for being difficult. Like last Sunday, I’m watching the 49ers-Cowboys’ playoff game with my son-in-law, who starts saying all these nice things about the recently departed John Madden. And I disagreed, citing what I think is Madden’s involvement in Darryl Stingley’s injury. I mean, who was Jack Tatum’s coach? I also happened to mention that I didn’t particularly like what I see as Madden’s broadcasting schtick, with the Telestrator and getting all worked up and the Thanksgiving Day turkey. To which my son-in-law replies, “But you don’t like broadcasters anyway.” I should note at this point in the story that the game was on mute, which did little to help my denying it. Then, I see in today’s paper the Sun-Times published their second annual ranking of the top "Chicago sports broadcast media" figures. Jason Benetti ranks number one, followed by nineteen other talking heads. Somebody explain to me how “mute” didn’t finish in the top twenty.

Lost in Translation

My daughter is nothing if not surprising. She called me yesterday on her way to an eye appointment and let me know that Ozzie Guillen was busy being Ozzie on twitter. Clare follows the ex-White Sox manager, and who could blame her? The man has opinions but no filter or inside voice, at least none I’ve ever detected. Here’s the thing—Clare called after reading the tweet in Spanish. Seems that Ozzie professed his affection for David Ortiz before saying he’s not a first-round HOFer. Apparently, Ozzie thinks Sammy Sosa should get in ahead of Big Papi. Really? Is there a second April Fool’s Day I don’t know about? Seriously? It should be interesting to see how Ozzie explains himself in English. Like I said, no filter.

We'll See

Right now, Clare has her hands full with a five-month old who spends just about all his waking moments mastering the skill of crawling and practicing to become the next Pavarotti. There’s not that much a difference between a Leo and a Luciano. So, I was impressed my daughter found the time to forward a story to me about White Sox pitcher Dylan Cease, who changed agents. From now on, Scott Boras will be making comparisons between his new client and Cy Young up to and including the suggestion MLB consider a name change for its pitching award. We’ll see. If the Sox are a franchise with a rich history of pitching (Buehrle, Faber, Lyons, Pierce, Walsh), they also include a long line of pitchers who, for one reason or another, never panned out. Start with Monty Stratton, move on to Bruce Howard and then, for brevity’s sake, jump to the more recent past. Consider James Baldwin; Jason Beret; Gavin Floyd; Greg Hibbard ; Jim Parque; and Mike Sirotka. Each one of those starters had at least one season where they matched the numbers the 25-year old Cease put up last season, 13-7 with a 3.91 ERA. When Jon Garland—now, that was a guy who made me pull at my hair with his “What, me worry?” attitude—was 25, he posted an 18-10 record with a 3.50 ERA. Garland won 64 games by his age-25 season. Compare that to Cease, who has won all of 22 games in his career. I’d rather overpay, and a lot, for pitching over three years than try to satisfy the demands of Cease and Boras. We’ll see.

RIP

Take it from someone who knows, journalism is a lousy profession. The hours and the pay are generally crappy, the job security a joke that nobody laughs at but everyone gets. As for a personal life, the job gets in the way. I walked away after two stints wrapped around a PhD. The journalist’s obit is a kind of consolation prize for anyone who put in the time and may or may not have had the awards to show for it. Right now in Chicago, the papers and air waves are filled with accolades for longtime sports’ journalist Les Grobstein. Because of Grobstein and his tape recorder, the rant of Cubs’ manager Lee Elia lives on. Elia went ballistic after a loss at home to the Dodgers early in the 1983 season dropped the North Siders to 5-14. It was F-this and F-that for a good three-plus minutes as Elia addressed reporters after the game. Listen to the tape on YouTube, and decide on a favorite line. Mine is Elia saying, “Fifteen percent of the F-ing world’s working, the other fifteen comes out here” to Wrigley Field. Elia called the ballpark “a F-ing playground for the c-ers.” The thing of it is, he was right. Wrigley Field—and Comiskey Park, for that matter—was home to a bunch of “fans” who lived to get drunk and boo. They were like Harry Caray, without the polish or self-control. In his own F-ing, fumbling way, Elia was trying to protect his players. In fact, he invited these “fans” to boo him, which I’m sure they took him up on. It was a different time, a different game. It costs a lot more to get drunk at the ballpark these days. Those who can afford it tend not to get so loud. But the reporters still have to meet their deadlines.

In the World Beyond Halas Hall

This was a good weekend for people who either could have or used to work for the Bears. First off, consider Bucs’ coach Bruce Arians, who interviewed with the Munsters to replace the fired Lovie Smith back in 2013. Arians actually thought he had the job, only for then-GM Phil Emery to go with Marc Trestman (!). Arians went on to have a nice run coaching the onetime Cardinals of Chicago before moving on to Tampa. If memory serves, Arians’ team won the Super Bowl behind Tom Brady last season and looks poised for a repeat next month. And let’s not forget the 49ers, who upset the Cowboys yesterday to advance to a showdown with the Packers on Sunday. Jimmy Garoppolo, the quarterback Ryan Pace didn’t seriously go after because he already had Mike Glennon and Mitch Trubisky, led his team to the win. What a shock. The final score was 23-17, the margin of victory provided by kicker Robbie Gould and his three field goals, of 53, 40 and 52 yards, and not a double-doink anywhere. Gould used to kick in the wind tunnel that is Soldier Field, but Ryan Pace got rid of him back in 2016. That’s six seasons ago. So, that’s where Arians, Garoppolo and Gould are. Anyone seen hide nor hair of Emery and Pace?

Nothing to Eat

For a baseball fan, January is like being hungry when there’s nothing in the house to eat. You can look for news, but don’t expect to find anything. The adolescents, aka MLB owners and players, are busy in their little tug of war, unless you prefer calling it the sort of contest that will get a person arrested if done in public. And there are only so many stories on international-player signings that I can read before going blurry eyed. According to the pass I saved (and Adam Engel autographed), it’s eleven days short of three years since Clare and I attended our last SoxFest together. Ah, those were the days, when Nicky Delmonico and Daniel Palka at least had a chance of being part of the rebuild. Some things are not meant to be, I guess. The strike/lockout has me wondering if it’s even worth the bother to look for baseball magazines come March. Everything stopped on December 1st, so what’s to report on? If and when labor peace returns, there’s likely to be a flurry of activity that would make the rosters the magazines print dated the moment they hit the stands. No more Baseball Register, no more Who’s Who in Baseball, no more Street and Smith’s. No more anything? Just for the heck of it, I went on baseball-reference.com to see how many player photos I could identify, and all I got was Joe Torre. Then I checked the In Memoriam listing to see that pitcher Jim Corsi, a good nine years younger than me, died early this month. I’m shooting to match Eddie Basinski, who hung around for ninety-nine years before moving on four days after Corsi. According to his NYT obit, Basinski once serenaded Dodgers’ manager Leo Durocher with a violin in the Dodgers’ clubhouse at Ebbets Field. More of that, please. In a couple of hours, the grandson is coming over. He’s starting to crawl and throw things. Clare reports that he’s holding his spoon left-handed. My daughter always had a bit of Ted Williams in her. Maybe she passed it down.

Ouch

Talk about your reality checks. On Wednesday, the Bulls lost to the Nets at home by a score of 138-112. Then, last night, they fell to the visiting Warriors, 138-96. This was the second game in two nights for Golden State, after losing in Milwaukee by nineteen on Thursday. The Bulls are coming off a recent nine-game win streak, so some sort of streak in the other direction is to be expected. But losing to two very good teams on your home court casts doubt on your being very good, too. Color the Bulls something of a mystery right now. My problem centers on—if you’ll pardon the pun—center Nikola Vucevic. In the eight full seasons Vucevic played with the Magic, his teams never won more than forty-two games. So, I wonder how big the big man is. We’ll soon find out. The one cause for hope is head coach Billy Donovan, who was calling out his team for sloppy play during the win streak. Well, those chickens have certainly come home to roost, now haven’t they? Thirty-one turnovers in the last two games doesn’t exactly spell focus. Donovan strikes me as being new-school old-school. He holds his players accountable without feeling the need to humiliate them. That’s good. God invented January so winter-sports teams would have their own dog days. Approaching the half-way point of the season, that’s where the Bulls are. Maybe they’re just a good team that got hot and is now falling back with the rest of the pack. But they also show signs of being more. That’s why God made February, March and April. By then, we’ll know who the real Bulls are.

I Waited Forty-Three Days for This?

For the first time in forty-three days, both sides in the MLB lockout met yesterday, as the owners offered a handful of new ideas. Then both sides went back into their respective caves without setting a date for the next negotiating session. Shame on me for expecting anyone to act like an adult. If they were in big-boy mode, owners would admit publicly that the players aren’t out to ruin the game, and players would concede that revenue sharing has definite merits. I doubt that even New York could support six teams. Either small-market teams receive financial support, or the game needs to downsize to fit the big markets available. I assume nobody wants that. Alas, bargaining in good faith is so 20th century. Instead of looking forward to the start of spring training in another thirty days or so, fans can watch labor and management engage in a game of Chicken. Thanks, but no thanks.

The Beast Lumbers Northward

The McCaskeys can’t run their football team, but that hasn’t stopped them from exploring a move to the suburbs. They already have an option on 326 acres in Arlington Heights. CEO Ted Phillips, who would be hard-pressed to explain the difference between a blitz and a blintz, is quoted in today’s Tribune that the Munsters envision an “entertainment destination with multiple facets to it that I think could really help put Arlington Heights on the map as a wonderful destination site.” Like I said, blitz and blintz. Chairman George McCaskey, who would be hard-pressed to explain the difference between a seat and a safety, says the property represents an “outstanding, long-term proposition with high potential for the Bears.” And in all probability, no one else. I have relations who live in Arlington Heights, so I can tell you there’s stuff McCaskey and Phillips aren’t addressing, like what happens to the already well-established entertainment district in this community of 74,000 to 77,000 residents. When Phillips talks about an “entertainment destination,” he’s borrowing a page out of Jerry Reinsdorf’s playbook. When Reinsdorf opened his ball mall in 1991, he made sure that fans had nowhere to go but the food court surrounding the field of play. Go to Wrigley Field, and there are bars and restaurants everywhere. Go to Guaranteed Rate Whatever, and good luck finding anything but parking lots in the immediate vicinity. The Munsters want parking lots plus restaurants, all under their control. Bye-bye Arlington Heights bars and grills. Did I mention Woodfield, at 2.2 millions square feet the largest mall in Illinois? The mall is at most six miles from the site the Bears are eyeing. Imagine Sunday traffic come holiday time. Imagine all those restaurants that have opened in and around Woodfield. How happy are they going to be about their customers having to fight all that increased traffic and all those Bears’ fans who won’t be inclined to become customers there after the game? Like I said and McCaskey alluded to, great for the Bears. If everything goes as the Munsters hope, then what? Well, the surrounding community gets screwed while the team gets rich, for openers. And what about all that new revenue coming in? The salary cap means it won’t be going back into the team. No, the McCaskey will just get richer. I thought you weren’t supposed to get rewarded for mediocrity and worse. Oh, wait, we’re talking professional sports, where up is down and billionaires cry poor while the value of their teams skyrockets.

This Could Be Intersting

The Yankees made it official yesterday, naming 34-year old Rachel Balkovec as manager of their Low-A Tampa team. Intriguing, to say the least. Balkovec won’t be like other minor-league hires for the simple fact she’s not an ex-baseball play, which is hardly her fault; the next woman playing for a MLB organization will be the first. So, her experience will be different from that of other first-time managers. Will it matter? I don’t think so, but we’ll see. A former college softball player, Balkovec held strength-and-conditioning positions with a number of organizations before the Yankees hired her as a minor-league hitting coach in 2019. Today’s story in MLB.com quotes her from January 2020 saying, “Swing mechanics are right up my alley,” so she may be big into analytics. I’m more old school. So is Clare, who called to tell me about the hiring yesterday. That’s the thing about managing, you learn what does and doesn’t work. It’ll be interesting to see how Balkovec goes about her job, assuming, of course, the lockout doesn’t wash out minor- and major-league baseball in 2022.

That Ol' McCaskey Magic

By all accounts, Bears’ chairman George McCaskey outdid himself yesterday talking to the media for fifty-nine minutes via Zoom. McCaskey started by going after students who booed now ex-coach Matt Nagy’s son at a suburban high school football game last fall. Adolescent is as adolescent does, George. By hitting rock-bottom right out of the gate, McCaskey was in his comfort zone, as evidenced by his all but calling Olin Kreutz a liar about the $15-an-hour job-offer story. And for those folks out there hoping that George Halas’ grandson had seen the light and was going to appoint a president of football operations, nope. Silly them. All this clowning around, Bears’ style, drew attention away from what happened in Los Angeles, where the 49ers came back from a 17-0 deficit to clinch a playoff spot. The comeback was led by a local-area quarterback the Munsters couldn’t be bothered to draft or figure out how to trade for when he became available and a place kicker Ryan Pace thought was over the hill in 2016. You remember Ryan Pace, don’t you? The best explanation for the Bears not drafting Jimmy Garoppolo in the second round of the 2014 draft is that they didn’t draft Tony Romo back in 2003, either. You see, both quarterbacks played at Eastern Illinois University, and you can’t get there from Halas Hall in Lake Forest. Then-GM Jerry Angelo whiffed on Romo, who signed with the Cowboys as an undrafted free agent. Wow, the Bears love signing those kind of guys. Like I said, it must have to do with Eastern University. Phil Emery whiffed on Garoppolo, picking DT Ego Ferguson in the second round of the 2014 draft. Ryan Pace, who loves to collect quarterbacks, either would not or could not make a deal with the Patriots, who instead sent the Arlington Heights native to San Francisco during the 2017 season. You remember 2017, right, Bears’ fans, when your Munsters had Mike Glennon and rookie Mitch Trubisky lining up behind center? I thought so. Robbie Gould kicked what proved to be the winning field goal in overtime. Gould always kicks field goals. You remember the double-doink, don’t you, Bears fans? I thought so.

Gone

Thank goodness the Bears didn’t stop playing for their now ex-coach yesterday. Otherwise, I would’ve thought getting outscored 31-3 after being ahead 14-0 in Minnesota was proof of tossing in the towel. The McCaskeys roused themselves out of winter hibernation this morning to fire both Matt Nagy and Ryan Pace, the man who hired him back in 2018. It’s fashionable now to talk about Nagy “word salad,” or how he expressed himself. In today’s The Athletic, Jon Greenberg went a step further, describing Nagy-speak as “well-meaning incoherence.” Better late than never in noticing that, guys. Nagy employed the same gibber-speak throughout his four years in Chicago. Nobody outside of Dan Hampton and Ed O’Bradovich, the crazy—and I do mean crazy—ex-Bears, called him out for it in the beginning. The Munsters won the division in Nagy’s first year, so he got a pass. And everyone was too stunned by how quickly they embraced mediocrity the next season to say anything about the coach’s podium ponderings. The Bears have been petrified of throwing the ball downfield ever since they hired Lovie Smith back in 2004. A good start in hiring a new GM would be to answer the following question: What do you do on offense? Hire the first guy/woman who answers; Run it up the middle, throw it over the middle. Same goes for the next coach. Anything else will mean the same old same old.

The Truth Beneath the Myth

This is the Bears in a nutshell. Olin Kreutz, who played center for them over the course of thirteen seasons, reported yesterday that the Munsters wanted him to help coach the offensive line back in 2018. Only one problem—they offered to pay him all of $15 an hour. This brings to mind two other Bears. Mike Ditka accused Bears’ owner and coach George Halas of throwing around nickels “like manhole covers.” Then, there’s the story of Dick Butkus who allegedly saw Halas toss a quarter into a urinal to join the quarter already in it. Halas is reputed to have said he wouldn’t reach in for a quarter but… All myth is based on truth.

This Could Get Interesting

The Astros made it official this week, announcing they’ve hired Sara Goodrum to be their director of player development. Goordrum, who played softball at the University of Oregon, spent last season as the Brewers’ minor league hitting coordinator. She was the first woman ever to hold that post. Now, the question becomes will a woman executive see a woman athlete as a possible major-league ballplayer? If I were asking this about my daughter, the answer would be a definite, Yes. Clare played baseball with boys, and she knows what that takes. From what I can, she also hit ( a lot) better than Goodrum in college. Should that matter? I hope not. But a young woman who hit for power in college might be more predisposed to see if another woman could do that in professional baseball. We’ll see, maybe.

Fan Favorite

As Christians, we’re taught to love the sinner and the sin. That’s how I feel about the Cubs—root for the occasional player while hating his team. Some Cubs I wouldn’t even mind on the White Sox, Ron Santo excepted, of course. One of those players was Larry Biitner, the pride of Pocahontas Iowa, who played on the North Side, 1976-1980. What I remember most about Biitner was his helmet flying off as he ran the bases. The man had a nice head of hair to go with a decent eye. Biitner had a career .273 BA over fourteen seasons. Ted Williams liked what he saw when Biitner came up with the Senators, so there’s that. Biitner’s kids also seemed to have liked their dad. One of them told the story of how, at the age of six, he was walking around in the Cubs’ clubhouse, only to get hit in the head with a bat when Scot Thompson (!) took a practice swing. Daddy Biitner, in uniform, drove his son to the hospital, where he had stitches; drove the two of them back to the ballpark; then won the game with a pinch hit. Biitner told his son, “You should get hit more often.” (Des Moines Register, 1-3-22). Biitner transferred from Drake University to play baseball at Buena Vista; I’m pretty sure Clare played their softball team a few times in Florida. Assuming Buena Vista didn’t move down a division or two since he played, Biitner went from D-III to the majors. So, there’s that, too. Here's what I really like—he moved back home. The Ft. Dodge Messenger (1-2-22) even referred to Biitner as the “Pocahontas legend,” high praise, indeed. I know all this because Biitner died on Sunday, and baseball-reference.com included his name for its In Memoriam section. Just about every story, as well as the SABR biography, mentioned Biitner’s hustle. You could see it from how his hair bounced with every stride as he ran from first to third.

Payback

MLB Network has decided to drop Ken Rosenthal, Mr. Bowtie. Consensus has it that Rosenthal upset Commissioner Rob Manfred with critical comments made back in 2020. Ken Rosenthal too critical? That’s sort of like saying lukewarm is too hot. Rosenthal is someone who strikes me as conscientious in doing his job and someone who cares deeply about the sport he covers. The comments alleged to have upset Manfred would get a caller cut off on sports’ talk radio, for being too mild. It's always sunny in Philadelphia, yes? No, it isn’t, and the commissioner needs to grow a thicker skin. You can’t have Iowa corn—which is good for ratings—without a few corny characters tending the crop.

Silly Season

Some HOF voters are sharing their picks for Cooperstown, and they’d be better off keeping quiet. Folks at The Athletic must’ve been hitting the laughing gas as they were marking their ballots. Nine out of eleven voters picked juicers, with eight going for both Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens. Nine picked Andruw Jones; seven went with Gary Sheffield; and three for Sammy Sosa. The mind reels. Not a person voted for Paul Konerko or Mark Buehrle. Of course, they didn’t.

Diabolical Plan

Finally, I see the method in the madness—the Bears want to flood the NFL with crap, aka ex-Bears’ quarterbacks. Now, that’s how you guarantee victory. Take a look at yesterday, when they faced Mike Glennon and the Giants. That’s the same Mike Glennon Bears’ GM Ryan Pace signed to a big contract back in 2017. Glennon was before Mitch Trubisky and Nick Foles and Andy Dalton and Justin Fields. And how did Glennon do against his old team? He netted a -10 passing yards. You can’t make this stuff up. Now, if Trubisky, Foles and Dalton all start for different teams next year, and they’re all on the Bears’ schedule, and Glennon stays around for another start against the Munsters, that’s four wins minimum the easy way. And let’s not forget ex-coaches. Lovie Smith was 0-2 against his former team after he moved on to coach Tampa Bay. What the Bears have to do is figure out a way to get other teams to hire their ex-coaches. If Matt Nagy goes somewhere like Minnesota, there’s wins five and six next season. Why isn’t John Fox or Marc Trestman back coaching? Well, we all know why, but it’s January and you can dream.

Lightning

So, lightning does in fact strike twice. In back-to-back road games Saturday and Sunday, DaMar DeRozan hit a game-winning three with time expiring. Bulls 120 Wizards 119. According to people who are supposed to know such things, that’s never happened before in the NBA. This is sports working at its unexpected best. Just a game lost in all the talk about snow hitting—and mostly missing—Chicago and the bowl matchups and the Bears getting ready to face off against the Giants and…DeRozan. Maybe the shot deflected the storm off its collision course; maybe not. Either way, an athlete accomplished something that lessened the winter gloom, if only for a buzzer-beating second.

Last Second

We were expecting company at seven, and I was straightening the house (we don’t want people talking dusty tabletops on New Year’s Eve, now do we?) But I stopped to watch the last twelve seconds of the Bulls’ game against the Pacers. DeMar DeRozan had the ball at the visitors’ end and casually proceeded up court. By the time he was ready to shoot (and shoot well beyond the key and off to the right), there was next to no time left on the clock. DeRozan barely got the ball out of his hands before the clock expired; there’d be no rebound on a missed shot. Either it went in for a game-winning three or the Bulls lose, 106-105. And that’s when I realized, sometimes, it’s better to be lucky and good then just good alone. Final score, Bulls 108 Pacers 106.