Maybe it was the fact that I was incredibly distracted by the Martin Luther King Day celebration I was working at on Sunday, or perhaps that old sense of steeling myself against disappointment that comes
naturally with being a Chicago Bears fan. Or, maybe the buzz from Caleb Williams’ latest near-zero-probability throw just hadn’t worn off yet.
But when that kick left Harrison Mevis’ foot, I didn’t mourn or dwell on it. I simply shut YouTube TV off on my phone and went back to business.
It was a bummer, of course. Who wouldn’t have wanted to see the Bears play one more week, even if it meant getting smacked around in Seattle? Still, in that moment, it wasn’t anger or frustration I felt, or even the normal chaotic enjoyment of dysfunction I usually employ to keep myself sane while watching this team.
This time, I felt nothing. But gratitude, that is.
Because damnit if that wasn’t the most fun season of Bears football I’ve watched since 2006.
As I’ve already admitted here a few times, I wasn’t going to give the Bears much of a chance this season. Sure, I’d watch, because of course I would. But I wouldn’t put much faith in them, and I wouldn’t let the ups and downs of every week get to me the way they had in the past. I’d watch. I’d wait. And I’d evaluate. That was it.
I had my concerns about Caleb Williams earlier in the season, and heard from plenty of people who felt the same. As if the ghost of that Mitchell Trubisky 2019 season was rearing its ugly head, screaming insistently that this wasn’t “the guy.” But I watched, waited, and evaluated.
When the Bears whooped the Cowboys and stole the game from the Raiders on that blocked field goal, I was largely unmoved. Good for them. But I knew what I had to do: watch, wait, and evaluate.
There would be no grand pronouncement on this Bears squad until it was all over, I told myself. And comeback wins against the Commanders, Bengals, and Giants, as much as Caleb Williams seemed to particularly shine in that one, weren’t going to make me change my mind.
But I think the Vikings one on the road finally did it.
This isn’t about the quality of the opponent or pure luck anymore. No. Something about this group was different. Every time they got kicked in the teeth after that abysmal Week 2 performance in Detroit, they fought back. Every time it looked like they were left for dead, littered on the boulevard of broken dreams like so many Bears teams of the past, they refused to die. As Tywin Lannister would say, “I respect that. Admire it even.”
Then, in spite of myself, I got caught up. Not because I thought this team would win a Super Bowl, but because they were just too damn fun not to watch. They might’ve been one of the most mid teams in the NFL for the first three quarters of a game. But once the four fingers on the hand went up, they became a different beast entirely—one even the best squads in the league wanted no part of.
They put belt to the defending Super Bowl champions’ butts on Black Friday. They publicly shamed the Packers twice—thanks to two of the most insane throws you’ll ever witness from Caleb Williams. (Until next year’s postseason, of course.) They took MVP hopeful Matthew Stafford to the brink, with Williams delivering an all-time great playoff moment in just his second NFL season.
They weren’t some wagon the NFL couldn’t stop—nor a complete Cinderella story with no business being in their position. They were a good football team who happened to be the most wildly fun, nonsensical, physical, heart attack-inducing Bears team I’ve had the pleasure of watching. And they made me enjoy not just Chicago football, but football in general, for the first time in a long time.
When you start covering a sport as a journalist, you can lose some of that fandom for good. In fact, doing a good job covering a team almost necessitates it a little. You have to be willing to see things with your eyes more than your heart. You try to keep a level of emotional detachment so you can be smart—and right—about what you’re talking about.
This year, I didn’t worry about any of that, and I didn’t have to. I let myself enjoy it. Let myself scream at the TV in joy or pain. Let myself buy my family jerseys. Let myself believe they could win it all, right up until the moment they couldn’t anymore.
And I don’t regret a second of it. Because these Bears, after years of disappointment, are fun again.
To be clear, next year might not be as cool. They’ll have targets on their backs from other teams, especially their fellow NFC North-dwellers. The stakes will be higher. The pressure will mount. They might win even more games and go further in the playoffs than this.
And yet, even if they were to win a Super Bowl, I’m not sure anything will quite compare to the 2025 Chicago Bears. At long last, after all that watching, waiting, and evaluating, I can unequivocally say this team was one of a kind. And I’ll never forget how fun it was to watch them.
