My Friends,
The late afternoon crowd at Miller’s Pub was sparse, save for the bar area that was obviously a pregame gathering place for Bears fans. I informed the maître d’ that we’d have eight in our party, and he asked that we wait in the bar for the rest of our gang to show up before giving us a table. Gus and I found a spot in front of the taps in the back corner, and we settled in.
Mojo joined us shortly after 4pm and we called Lactose Intolerant to find out his ETA. He said he was on the road. Knowing LI, that could either mean he was exiting the Ohio Street cutoff or more likely somewhere near the cheddar curtain. Pressing further, we found out he had just entered the Tri-State up by Great America, and it would be a while. We asked Kevin, our bartender, for menus.
While we waited we each ordered a martini and lifted our glasses to Mary Lou, Virus Boy’s mom who recently passed away. She was one of the nicest people you’d ever want to meet, amazing in her own right in that she always somehow managed get the Exxon Valdez oil slick off VB’s milk glass after dinner as he was growing up. Rest well.
As the crowd continued to gather we took the opportunity to serenade them with Mojo’s Twelve Days of packer Week. They were duly impressed, to the point that one patron asked to view Mojo’s hard copy and was never seen again, while two ladies from north of the curtain approached to compliment us on our singing and ask where we had come up with the lyrics. The one from Kenosha knew of Frank’s Diner, a great place for breakfast if you’re ever up that way, but be sure to bring a change of clothes because you’re going to reek of grease when you leave.
After a hearty meal of parmigiana and burgers we called LI to get a status report. It was around 5:30 and he was somewhere in the vicinity of the Sunnyday Tap on the city’s northwest side. We directed him down Elston in an effort to bypass the standstill traffic on the inbound Kennedy, and took food orders for him and his brood, knowing full well that he’d never get to Miller’s in time to park, order and dine. We hoped he’d make it before we had to leave for the stadium.
Hepcat showed up around 6 and devoured a burger of his own, and we waited around over a few more beers for 6:30, the time we all decided would be the latest we’d want to leave for a 7:30 kickoff. As the hour drew closer, LI agreed we should leave the food with Kevin if he didn’t make it in time.
We paid the bill and gathered the remainder of our cold weather gear and headed for the door around the appointed hour, and just then LI’s Tahoe pulled up. The third row seat was a cozy fit for Mojo, Gus and me, but it provided a perfect vantage point from which to watch the LI meal unfold. The dinner party that wasn’t turned into a rolling version of Bob’s Big Boy, with Erik handing out burgers from the back seat on the way down Wabash while ham-fisting one of his own and jamming it into his gaping maw.
We were fortunate that one of my coworkers (who shall remain nameless to protect him from the wrath of neighbors without parking) who lives in the area around 18th and Calumet was gracious enough to park his car on 18th earlier in the day and release his spot as we arrived. After the quick addition of the final layers, we were off to Soldier Field in time to make kickoff for the coldest home game in Bears history.
The first half moved about as quickly as LI’s Tahoe on his way down, as the teams traded punts, with an Alex Brown interception off a nice deflection by Danieal Manning thrown in. But the Bears couldn’t capitalize, and gb wound up taking a 7-0 lead on the following drive after converting a fake punt from the Bears 37.
Manning returned the ensuing kickoff 70 yards to provide the beginnings of a “good answer,” but there was no drive to speak of and the Bears settled for a 31-yard Robbie Gould field goal. Doubt crept in, and then grew into a full scale bolt as the urine stained rolled through the defense without much resistance to a 14-3 lead just before the break.
At halftime I was talking to one of the guys who sits in front of me, and he pointed to an empty chair to his right. On it was a blanket and a small stuffed bear, a makeshift shrine to his dad Stew who had passed away this past week. Stew was a regular at the home contests who knew his football and knew his Bears, and our section was all the richer for having him a part of it.
It looked like the second half was going to be more of the same as the Bears took the opening kickoff and went three-and-out, but on the punt Rashied Davis pushed the packers’ Jarrett Bush into the ball and the Bears were in business when Jason Davis fell on it at the gb 27. Five plays later Kyle Orton found Greg Olsen on a quick slant over the middle and the Bears had climbed to within 14-10.
It stayed that way through the rest of the quarter as Matt Forte couldn’t find a groove and Orton threw the first of two horrible interceptions. The Bears had generated a whopping 92 yards of offense through the first three quarters, and it felt like the season was slipping away.
The packers took that interception and drove to a first and goal at the Bears 5, but after an incomplete pass Tommie Harris blew up a running play for a five yard loss and Kevin Payne tipped away a short pass to Donald Driver on third down, and the head cheese had to settle for a field goal that kept the Bears within reach. But Orton short-circuited again, this time throwing an interception at the gb eleven.
The Bears defense stiffened and forced a punt after four plays, and the Bears got the ball back at their own 49 following an uncommon but welcome 24-yard punt return by Devin Hester with 7:14 left in the game.
And that’s when the alarm clock went off inside Matt Forte’s helmet.
Forte carried seven times on the eight play drive, picking up 48 yards including a first down on a crucial fourth and one and a three yard touchdown on the following play. With 3:16 to go our guys had pulled even.
Unfortunately it didn’t look like it would last after Will Blackmon returned the kickoff to midfield and Adrian Peterson horse collared him to the ground for an extra 15. Starting from the Bears 35, lead dairy boy Aaron Rodgers milked the clock down to 0:25 over six plays to the 20, where the fate of the Bears season would be decided on a 38 yard field goal attempt by Mason Crosby.
The whole crowd stood as we waited through the timeout. Everybody, that is, except for Mojo, who remained seated and in full Mojoization mode, hands folded, forearms on his thighs, face down and eyes closed. I’ve seen that look before, and it’s worked more often than not. I put my right hand on his hat and watched the play unfold to my left.
The referee gave the ready signal, and the 25-second clock started down as the packers lined up and the Bears defenders shifted into position. At the last second Alex Brown moved from the left side of the line to his right and bull rushed through the blocking wall as the ball was snapped, sticking up his right paw to stone Mason and slap down any thoughts the northern rivals had of ending their four game losing streak. Thud-THUD! Just like Bearfan once wrote about Walter Payton lifting Bryan Robinson into the exact path of another potential game winning kick, I have to think Stew was up there watching and had something to do with it.
After all that, the outcome was a fait accompli. The overtime coin toss bounced off Brian Urlacher’s helmet and landed exactly the way the packers didn’t want, and seven plays later Gould nailed his second field goal into the frigid night air to send the Soldier Field faithful into a frenzy and our annoying guests home to contemplate another late game collapse.
The mark of a winner is the ability to finish, and since routing the Bears last month to pull their record to even the five and dime packers (they would appropriately be sponsored by bankrupt Woolworth) have managed a come-from-ahead loss in every one of their games. They now face a place in the history books, hosting the Lions this Sunday with a shot to either cap off Detroit’s dubious “perfect” season or become the only team in NFL annals to lose to an 0-15 team.
As for our guys, Duke’s text after the game says it all:
It’s the Christmas Miracle!
I hope all of you enjoy yours!
LBF
12/24/2008