Week 6 Bears Recap: Fun With Text Messages
At halftime on Monday I started a column in my head. It was tentatively entitled "Reasons Why the State of Arizona Sucks". I had some terrible things to say about Phoenix, the outlying areas and most importantly, the scumbag Cardinals fans I sat with during the game. I was so angry with the 20-0 halftime score my list was starting to make no sense. "Too much sand" and "no tall buildings" were solid reasons I thought of to convict the state of Arizona for crimes committed against humanity and me, a Bears fan.
Then something happened. Matt Leinart, in his infinite rookie wisdom, audibled from the shadow of his endzone. Thanks to 20,000 Bears fans in "University of Phoenix Stadium" the new play didn't make it to the ears of the Cardinals right tackle. Leinart snapped the ball and defensive end Mark Anderson sprinted untouched towards Leinart's precious back. Anderson drilled Leinart, Mike Brown scooped up the fumbled ball, ran three yards for a touchdown and the choke was on.
But there's so much to talk about. I was ACTUALLY AT THE GAME with my friend Andrew and his parents. We tailgated before kick-off and were surrounded by comrades. Apparently Cardinals fans don't tailgate because their walkers get too hot in the sun causing the rubber wheels to melt into the parking lot pavement.
I also received a number of text messages throughout the day. I think these texts really tell the story of my first Monday Night Football game since the L.A. Rams came to Soldier Field and clobbered Vince Evans and the defenseless Bears 24-7 in 1981...
2:30 - 4:30 TAILGATING
We're in the parking lot throwing back Miller Lights and chowing down on corned beef, pastrami, and brisket (Yeah, I was tailgating with the best kind of Jews: Jews who love their food).
Text Message: "I can't believe you're going tonight. My life sucks. Go Bears!!!"
Standing in a parking lot in Arizona surrounded by 10,000 drunk guys from Schaumburg in Urlacher jerseys is a sight to behold. Your life DOES suck if you don't ever get to see it.
Text Message: "First time in my life I don't want to be Leinart."
I share this one with Andrew. We laugh, cocky Bears fans fat on deli meats and quite pleased with ourselves. Bad karma.
Text Message: "Waiting for a bus in 45 degree rain. Just saw a Moses Moreno jersey."
This one is from Chicago. The real Moses Moreno comes by our tailgate and asks if he can have our empty bottles. We tell him to get away from us.
Text Message: "You shouldn't be allowed to wear an Urlacher jersey with a deep brown leathery Arizona tan."
No Bears fans have deep brown leathery tans. If we do, we call them skidmarks and they reside in our underwear.
Text Message: "On ESPN they asked the panel who was the better Bears coach and Irvin said Lovie and Ditka got real mad."
This is a good friend. Keeping me updated on the pre-game banter. Much obliged.
Text Message: "Are you wearing a Moose jersey?"
1985 Payton away, baby.
5:30 - 8:30 THE FIRST THREE QUARTERS
We get our tickets, head into the game and then hire Sherpas to guide us to our seats. I can see the ozone from here. Al Gore is right. It does not look good.
The game starts out a complete disaster. Mistake after mistake. No one dares call me. Everyone assumes I will reach through my phone and put them in a sleeper hold.
Text Message: "Leave now."
NEVER! Actually, the thought does cross my mind. I have a six-hour drive back to LA as soon as the game is over. Andrew and I buy another beer instead. We are miserable.
Text Message: "Punch a Cardinals fan. I got your back"
Thanks, but I know you are nowhere near the stadium and therefore of no use to me if I happen to get into a vicious cockfight.
Text Message: "Rex is killing us."
Yep.
Text Message: "What the F#%k?"
The original column starts to take shape as the drunken animals (Cardinals AND Bears fans) are really getting into it. Arizona is acting like it has won the Super Bowl. I am wondering if the guy with no teeth wearing the Leinart jersey a few rows in front of me would enjoy being thrown from the upper deck.
Text Message: "Is this a F#%king joke?"
I’M not joking. I think I will hurl toothless Leinart to his death.
Text Message: "Cheer louder!"
You're right. It's my fault. On a side note, this text sounds like a girl wrote it, right? Well, it was a dude.
8:30 - 10:30 THE FOURTH QUARTER AND BEYOND
Mike Brown scores the Bears' first touchdown to effectively end the third quarter. Scum Cardinals fans stop talking trash for a few minutes so each can finish his last 16 beers before alcohol sales stop.
Text Message: "I was just about to say don't murder anyone tonight. But maybe you won't have to."
We'll see. The offense is terrible. I still might be forced to kill toothless Leinart.
Text Message: "I can't take this!"
About this time we are forced to change sections in the stadium. It seems when you sell seats three miles above the actual playing field people tend to drink more. Some large Cardinals fan just walked down from a few rows from behind us and caved in the face of a tiny Bears fan two rows in front of us. Andrew's parents didn't like being sprayed with blood that was meant to be spilled within Cook County, IL. We move over a section and the Bears offense is faced with fourth and ten.
Grossman throws his fourth and final interception of the night and we head for the exits (I’m not proud of this, but keep in mind the 6-hour drive).
A dull roar. I run across the concourse towards the field and see Charles Tillman returning ANOTHER fumble for ANOTHER defensive touchdown. We're staying. I’m sorry, football Gods. Forgive me.
Text Message: "Heart Attack."
Me, too. We've just stopped the Cardinals and are going to get the ball back with three minutes to play. I sure do hope the offense can do it!
Text Message: "Oh my GOD!"
Text Message: "No way."
Text Message: "F#%k me!"
I don't get these texts for a few minutes because Devin Hester returns the punt 83-yards for a tuddy, a 24-23 lead, and Andrew, his dad and I are hugging, screaming and jumping in a circle. Andrew claims his dad just got his greatest vertical leap ever during the celebration: four inches.
Text Message: "Ho. Lee. S#%t."
Text Message: "Never. Never ever."
Text Message: "Holy f#%king S#%t. MYTHIC. I expected you to be in an Arizona jail by the end of the first half."
What the hell do my friends think of me? Battery? Prison? I'm a fanatic Bears fan but I am way too smart to get into a fight, get arrested and miss the greatest Monday night comeback I could ever ask for. Plus, I am a HUUUGE wuss.
Anyway, we leave the stadium amidst euphoric Bears fans and suicidal Cardinals fans.
Text Message: "Holy S#%t." (I swear, different person, same message)
Holy s#%t is right. There's still have some brisket left in the cooler. We wolf down some sandwiches and get in the car. Navigating out of the parking lot I can hear "The Super Bowl Shuffle" somewhere in the distance. I don't want to hear that song for the next five months, but at the moment it feels pretty good.
Text Message: "Write about that game, baby!"
Good idea.
Then something happened. Matt Leinart, in his infinite rookie wisdom, audibled from the shadow of his endzone. Thanks to 20,000 Bears fans in "University of Phoenix Stadium" the new play didn't make it to the ears of the Cardinals right tackle. Leinart snapped the ball and defensive end Mark Anderson sprinted untouched towards Leinart's precious back. Anderson drilled Leinart, Mike Brown scooped up the fumbled ball, ran three yards for a touchdown and the choke was on.
But there's so much to talk about. I was ACTUALLY AT THE GAME with my friend Andrew and his parents. We tailgated before kick-off and were surrounded by comrades. Apparently Cardinals fans don't tailgate because their walkers get too hot in the sun causing the rubber wheels to melt into the parking lot pavement.
I also received a number of text messages throughout the day. I think these texts really tell the story of my first Monday Night Football game since the L.A. Rams came to Soldier Field and clobbered Vince Evans and the defenseless Bears 24-7 in 1981...
2:30 - 4:30 TAILGATING
We're in the parking lot throwing back Miller Lights and chowing down on corned beef, pastrami, and brisket (Yeah, I was tailgating with the best kind of Jews: Jews who love their food).
Text Message: "I can't believe you're going tonight. My life sucks. Go Bears!!!"
Standing in a parking lot in Arizona surrounded by 10,000 drunk guys from Schaumburg in Urlacher jerseys is a sight to behold. Your life DOES suck if you don't ever get to see it.
Text Message: "First time in my life I don't want to be Leinart."
I share this one with Andrew. We laugh, cocky Bears fans fat on deli meats and quite pleased with ourselves. Bad karma.
Text Message: "Waiting for a bus in 45 degree rain. Just saw a Moses Moreno jersey."
This one is from Chicago. The real Moses Moreno comes by our tailgate and asks if he can have our empty bottles. We tell him to get away from us.
Text Message: "You shouldn't be allowed to wear an Urlacher jersey with a deep brown leathery Arizona tan."
No Bears fans have deep brown leathery tans. If we do, we call them skidmarks and they reside in our underwear.
Text Message: "On ESPN they asked the panel who was the better Bears coach and Irvin said Lovie and Ditka got real mad."
This is a good friend. Keeping me updated on the pre-game banter. Much obliged.
Text Message: "Are you wearing a Moose jersey?"
1985 Payton away, baby.
5:30 - 8:30 THE FIRST THREE QUARTERS
We get our tickets, head into the game and then hire Sherpas to guide us to our seats. I can see the ozone from here. Al Gore is right. It does not look good.
The game starts out a complete disaster. Mistake after mistake. No one dares call me. Everyone assumes I will reach through my phone and put them in a sleeper hold.
Text Message: "Leave now."
NEVER! Actually, the thought does cross my mind. I have a six-hour drive back to LA as soon as the game is over. Andrew and I buy another beer instead. We are miserable.
Text Message: "Punch a Cardinals fan. I got your back"
Thanks, but I know you are nowhere near the stadium and therefore of no use to me if I happen to get into a vicious cockfight.
Text Message: "Rex is killing us."
Yep.
Text Message: "What the F#%k?"
The original column starts to take shape as the drunken animals (Cardinals AND Bears fans) are really getting into it. Arizona is acting like it has won the Super Bowl. I am wondering if the guy with no teeth wearing the Leinart jersey a few rows in front of me would enjoy being thrown from the upper deck.
Text Message: "Is this a F#%king joke?"
I’M not joking. I think I will hurl toothless Leinart to his death.
Text Message: "Cheer louder!"
You're right. It's my fault. On a side note, this text sounds like a girl wrote it, right? Well, it was a dude.
8:30 - 10:30 THE FOURTH QUARTER AND BEYOND
Mike Brown scores the Bears' first touchdown to effectively end the third quarter. Scum Cardinals fans stop talking trash for a few minutes so each can finish his last 16 beers before alcohol sales stop.
Text Message: "I was just about to say don't murder anyone tonight. But maybe you won't have to."
We'll see. The offense is terrible. I still might be forced to kill toothless Leinart.
Text Message: "I can't take this!"
About this time we are forced to change sections in the stadium. It seems when you sell seats three miles above the actual playing field people tend to drink more. Some large Cardinals fan just walked down from a few rows from behind us and caved in the face of a tiny Bears fan two rows in front of us. Andrew's parents didn't like being sprayed with blood that was meant to be spilled within Cook County, IL. We move over a section and the Bears offense is faced with fourth and ten.
Grossman throws his fourth and final interception of the night and we head for the exits (I’m not proud of this, but keep in mind the 6-hour drive).
A dull roar. I run across the concourse towards the field and see Charles Tillman returning ANOTHER fumble for ANOTHER defensive touchdown. We're staying. I’m sorry, football Gods. Forgive me.
Text Message: "Heart Attack."
Me, too. We've just stopped the Cardinals and are going to get the ball back with three minutes to play. I sure do hope the offense can do it!
Text Message: "Oh my GOD!"
Text Message: "No way."
Text Message: "F#%k me!"
I don't get these texts for a few minutes because Devin Hester returns the punt 83-yards for a tuddy, a 24-23 lead, and Andrew, his dad and I are hugging, screaming and jumping in a circle. Andrew claims his dad just got his greatest vertical leap ever during the celebration: four inches.
Text Message: "Ho. Lee. S#%t."
Text Message: "Never. Never ever."
Text Message: "Holy f#%king S#%t. MYTHIC. I expected you to be in an Arizona jail by the end of the first half."
What the hell do my friends think of me? Battery? Prison? I'm a fanatic Bears fan but I am way too smart to get into a fight, get arrested and miss the greatest Monday night comeback I could ever ask for. Plus, I am a HUUUGE wuss.
Anyway, we leave the stadium amidst euphoric Bears fans and suicidal Cardinals fans.
Text Message: "Holy S#%t." (I swear, different person, same message)
Holy s#%t is right. There's still have some brisket left in the cooler. We wolf down some sandwiches and get in the car. Navigating out of the parking lot I can hear "The Super Bowl Shuffle" somewhere in the distance. I don't want to hear that song for the next five months, but at the moment it feels pretty good.
Text Message: "Write about that game, baby!"
Good idea.
posted by David Stassen at 7:27 PM
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