There’s no way of knowing if Mitch Trubisky is going to be the starting quarterback of the Chicago Bears for the next decade plus. But he could be.
There’s no way of knowing if Matt Nagy is fifteen years away from opening a fish restaurant in the Drake Hotel’s old Cape Cod Room space. But he could be.
There’s no way of knowing if the men chosen to improve the league’s worst collection of pass catchers in 2017 – Robinson, Gabriel, Burton – will be the right ones. But they could be.
There’s no way of knowing if the Bears will be playing meaningful football games in December 2018. But they could be.
And why would any fan choose to believe anything else?
Optimism in sports is a perfectly-poured pint of Guinness, served with the harp facing OUT. It’s frothy. It’s delicious. Every time you lift the glass to your lips you think, “this is going to be the one that gets everything right.” And most mortals drinking “the dark stuff” – much like those overly optimistic – omit a noxious plume that those within a five-foot radius find…disconcerting.
