Shane Waldron has been relieved of his duties and offensive passing game coordinator Thomas Brown has been promoted to offensive coordinator.https://t.co/KVd0Innr3d
— Chicago Bears (@ChicagoBears) November 12, 2024
Shane Waldron has been relieved of his duties and offensive passing game coordinator Thomas Brown has been promoted to offensive coordinator.https://t.co/KVd0Innr3d
— Chicago Bears (@ChicagoBears) November 12, 2024
Mark and James, both in their early 70s, sit in the same barstools they’ve occupied on football Sundays for thirty plus years. In this bar they talk to no one but each other and the bartender, a lanky fella that knows when one Miller High Life is empty, another should take its place.
Mark: Did it matter?
James: Did what matter?
Mark: What happened there, did it matter?
James: Everything matters.
Mark: Sure, everything matters, in the existential sense, everything matters, but does everything really matter?
James: I guess that’s a question of perspective, isn’t it?
Mark: Is it?
James: I think so.
Mark: Explain.
James: A man walks into a dark alleyway in the middle of the night. He sees a figure lurking in the shadows behind him.
Mark: Eerie.
James: Right?
Mark: Go on.
James. Thank you. (Beat) He sees this figure and knows he has no choice but physical altercation. This figure is set on menace, and diplomacy won’t dissolve the situation.
Mark: He has to fight the figure.
James: He does.
Mark: Does he?
James: He does!
Mark: Okay.
James: The figure emerges.
Mark: I’m frightened.
James: Fuck off.
Mark: Go on.
James. Thank you. (Beat) The figure emerges and it’s a drunken bum. Down on his luck, stinky hobo, hoping to rip this guy off for a few bucks so he can get a 40 of Old English from the corner. Man gives him a shove. Bum falls down. Situation handled.
Mark: Not very impressive.
James. No, it’s not.
Chicago Bears 16, New England Patriots 13
I.
Always.
Like.
THE.
Chicago.
Bears.
I used to write an awful lot about football around here, but that was at a time when there were fewer people saturating the market (with mostly boring material). Now I write about Sidney Lumet, and one-act game reactions. Why? Because no one else does that. And if this isn’t going to make me rich, it’s certainly going to make me smile.
Since the fall of 2000, I have missed one Bears game. 24 years. One game. I was in Ireland and spent more than an hour at a pay phone, as my buddy Josh relayed to me the play-by-play of a Bears victory over the Vikings in 2005. I’ve been late to a grandfather’s funeral. I’ve watched the Bears from a Paris hotel in the middle of the night. If they’re playing, I’m watching, and it’s been that way for two and a half decades.
This Sunday, at the Jacob Burns Film Center in Pleasantville, NY, I’ll be presenting one of my favorite films, the 1957 classic Sweet Smell of Success. It will start at 11 AM, with my introduction, followed by a twenty-minute lecture by yours truly and a Q&A. I won’t be leaving the theater until around 2 PM. There is a bar in Pleasantville that will be showing the Bears v. Patriots, and honestly, I will more than likely hustle over there for the end of Q2 and second half. But why I will do that is becoming something of a mystery.
I was so excited about this team a few weeks ago that I went to Washington D.C. to see them. Now, I’m not despondent or dejected. I’m apathetic. I’ve seen this story before, many times. It’s still boring. You want me to use this space to talk about New England’s turnover differential or third-down conversion percentage? You want me to pick three Bears under pressure? Why? You want me to keep a window on my phone open during the Q&A and double-time it to Foley’s on Sunday? I may do that! But it’ll be more instinct than excitement.
I’ll make a prediction tomorrow, and I’ll probably predict the Bears to win. But honestly, it’s more interesting if they lose! If they lose, there’s something to write about Monday morning, something to talk about. Clearly this structure is not working and it’s not going to work. Something has to change. But this is the Chicago Bears. Something always has to change.
Sunday, at least for me, will be a change.
It is a season drifting away. Again.
Deidre and Colleen are seated in their golf start, waiting for the group ahead of them to tee off at Talking Stick. Deidre smokes cigar. Colleen sips a gin and tonic. It is 6:30 AM.
Deidre: It’s a dry heat.
Colleen: Then why am I drenched at six o’clock in the morning.
Deidre: I hate that word.
Colleen: What word?
Deidre: Drenched.
Colleen: What word would you prefer I use?
Deidre: I don’t care.
Colleen: Sweaty? Saturated? Moistened?
Deidre: Towels are moistened, not human.
Colleen: I’ve been moistened.
Beat.
Deidre: How do you know?
Colleen: How do I know what?
Deidre: When it’s time to go, when it’s time to stop doing something.
Colleen: What are you talking about?
Deidre: We do things, human being. We do things because we’re supposed to, because that’s what you do. But how do you know when to stop doing a thing?
Colleen: You’re talking about Eberflus.
Deidre: I’m talking about Eberflus.
Colleen: It’s time.
Deidre: Is it?
Colleen: Time.
Deidre: Okay.
Beat.
So, what is going to happen on Sunday?
Chicago Bears 30, Arizona Cardinals 20