An NFL version of this topic was making the rounds on social media over the weekend — I think it originated here, but if not, then shout out to whoever got the conversation started — so I wanted to bring it here to WCG, and give it a Chicago Bears twist.
If you could give a Super Bowl Ring to any Chicago Bears player who never won one, who would it be?
I know there were NFL Championships before the Super Bowl existed, but the Bears were pretty darn good back then, so I’ll keep my answer to the Super Bowl era
as originally intended.
I can’t think of any former Bear more deserving of a championship whose team always fell short than Dick Butkus.
Butkus had a legendary career (1965-1973), but his Bears never even made the postseason. He only played on two winning teams, and the Bears averaged 5 wins a year during his time in the Windy City.
If anyone was meant to be a Chicago Bear, it was Butkus. He was born in Chicago and grew up on the South Side. He played at Chicago Vocational High School. He went to the University of Illinois. George “Papa Bear” Halas drafted him with the third overall pick in the 1965 draft.
His Hall of Fame career was iconic, but if he could have capped it with a Super Bowl, he could have been elected Mayor of Chicago.
Butkus was the gold standard for middle linebacker back in his day, and it can be argued he’s still the greatest to ever do it at that position. Sure, the game has changed, but Butkus’ skill set would have fit in any era.
He was Chicago through and through, and while his career didn’t need the ring to define how great it was, I can’t think of someone who gave as much as him to miss out on the ultimate team accolade.
While looking for a Butkus quote or an anecdote to include in this post, I stumbled on this article from the 70s.
The entire thing is a fantastic read that takes you straight to that era, but one quote from Butkus really stood out to me.
It’s a bit vulgar (as are many parts of the article), which is why the long runway before I share it here.
So consider yourself warned.
The quote captured Butkus’ passion for the game, and why playing football on a bad team for so long, while battling through knee issues, was never going to dissuade him from giving it his all.
A quick setup to the passage.
It’s 1970, Butkus’ sixth season, and the Bears just lost another game, this one to the defending NFC Champion Minnesota Vikings, 24-0. The writer doesn’t get why Butkus would continue playing while his Bears are usually outmatched.
A few days after the Viking game, Butkus is in another North Side German restaurant. He is quiet, reserved and unhappy, because he feels that the Vikings didn’t show the Bears much, didn’t beat them physically nor with any great show of proficiency. I can’t help thinking that a man of his talent would get tired of this kind of second-rate football.
“Don’t you ever get bored? Don’t you think of retiring from this grind?”
“No way!”
“But what do you get from it? It’s got to be very frustrating. Why do you play?”
“Hell. That’s like asking a guy why he f***s.”
Just as surely as the self-preservation instinct is encoded into the DNA of most living organisms, Butkus also had the uncontrollable instinct to play football in his.
