99.1%.
That was the chance the Packers had to win with 3:27 left to play against the Bears last night, just after Green Bay had kicked its field goal to make the score 16-6.
The war of attrition these two bitter rivals were fighting would soon be over, and the Bears could fall to 0-2 against the Packers this year—the opposite of what Ben Johnson bragged he’d do in his opening presser.
Even worse: the Bears had largely lost this game to Malik Willis and Emanuel Wilson, not Jordan Love and Josh Jacobs.
Chicago had its chance to step on Green Bay’s necks early when Austin Booker’s hit unfortunately knocked Love out of the game with a concussion, and the Packers had instead put belt to their behinds for 56 minutes and 33 seconds.
And the Bears still won.
Completing the failed rally they’d attempted two weeks ago at Lambeau Field, and proving they could do it against a good team, no matter what their health level was, and not just the Raiders, Giants, and Vikings.
Stealing control of the NFC North from the jaws of defeat, thanks to their special teams, their quarterback’s icy pose, and their big-money receiver’s indomitable spirit.
As Williams was throwing the Bears down the field for the penultimate drive of regulation, when the Bears cut the lead to 16-9, you felt, as with other times, that Chicago would find some way—any way—to tie the game if they got the ball back. Even after they frittered away their time before the two-minute warning and had to attempt an onside kick.
Once they got it, you knew what would happen. Because the Bears had done this five times before last night. You could see how the movie would end, even if you couldn’t quite believe they’d do it to the hated Packers at last.
Because the Chicago Bears have become the horror movie villains of the NFL.
You might think you’ve killed them or that you’ve escaped trouble. But at this point, you should know better. They might have their flaws, but their unkillability is supernatural.
You better double-tap them Zombieland-style, put a stake through their heart, run them over with your car, and chuck the body into a volcano. Because if you don’t, they’re going to be walking you down at the end of the movie, even if they’re missing an arm or a leg. And if they catch up to you, it’s over.
This Bears team isn’t the best we’ve seen since 1985. They’re certainly not the most dominant, skilled, or deep. But they’re the scariest team that’s worn this uniform in decades because they simply don’t know when to die or throw in the towel. In fact, they don’t even believe they can be killed.
Now, they’re one step closer to making teams come to Dante’s Ninth Circle of Hell in January to take their best shot. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. Because these Chicago Bears are suddenly cold-blooded killers who simply don’t know when to die.
