Let's Stop Living in the Past, Chicago
You may remember a few weeks ago when we held a little contest here at Foul Balls for the NCAA tournament. We had a pool where readers were free to enter, with the winner of the pool winning the right to write a free post here. Well, Dr. C of Chicago Bull won the pool, and he got his free post. Here it is.
Before I take you through my little spiel here (he's a big dumb animal, folks); I would like to thank the Rockchalk Jayhawks for propelling me to victory to write on "Fornelli Fantasyland" also known as Foul Balls. For those of you who don't know me (and judging from the Sitemeter, you don't!) I'm Dr. C from Chicago Bull. I post infrequently, drink too often, and hate Juan Uribe with a passion. In other words, I'm the blogging version of Danny Pasqua: I have a decent nickname, do something good every once in a while, and make you wonder when something better will come along.
Speaking of coming along, were just days away from one of my favorite weekends: The NFL draft. I find few things in life more enjoyable then watching the scrolling ticker repeat the draft order with teams' associated picks. I love watching the gravitational pull of analysis that floats around Mel Kiper's head much like the rings around Saturn.
Unfortunately, something else has it's own gravitational pull around here in Chicago that seems inescapable when you mention a certain NFL team. It's like a black hole of pride that everyone trumpets around the area. Broadcasters pound it in your head at least 20 times during the course of the season. The measuring stick that every team in the past 23 years has been prodded with: The 85' Bears.
What wasn't there to like? Da Coach, Payton, The punky QB, the 4-6 Buddy Ryan Defense. The Super Bowl Shuffle. All of it is something we'll probably never see again. And that's why I'm imploring all of you: LET IT GO.
With every passing year that the Bears fail to win the big one, the ominous year dropping becomes an almost Cubs like "Wait Til Next Year. " At least we had 85'. For me, I don't get to say that. I was a bald-headed drooling 1-year old in 85'. I do not get such fabulous memories to look back on. Instead, my earliest Bears memories consist of Jim Harbaugh coughing up another lead. Of Mike Tomczak coming in and fucking things up even more. PT Willis. Steve Walsh...Garbage.
I am so sick of hearing about the 85' Bears that I don't ever want to hear their names again. Dent, Hampton, Fencik, Suhey, Gault. Banish these thoughts. You know what's worse? How much the current players must hate that team. Could you possibly imagine how many questions they must have gotten during the week leading up to Super Bowl XLI?
Is this team good enough to win it all like the 85' Bears? Do you think your defense is similar? Do you know any of the players from that team? That would be equivocal to spending time at a family reunion. A endless cavalcade of what is your name? What do you like to do during your free time? Are you enjoying your refreshment? Fuck and no.
The only problem with this reunion is it's not a 4 hour event; its revolving door that comes around all season.
I understand that everyone will always have a special place in their blue and orange colored beer guts for that team, and as well they should. Having seen the Bulls dynasty take place and the 05' White Sox tear through the postseason, I know that special feeling one gets when you reflect back. But please, I ask you. That was then, and this is now. Let the 85' Bears rest in peace.
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