I must admit that there is something very unpleasant about having to eat my words. I don't enjoy the taste. The Bears let me down and the Colts were better than I thought. And I had to do it, why I don't know, but I ripped Bob Sanders to shreds the other day, and damned if the Bears didn't make him look like he was the evolutionary hybrid of the great defensive backs of the past that I sarcastically made him out to be. Good thing I didn't throw Night Train Lane in the mix, otherwise Sanders would likely have scored three TDs on his own.

But I promised my own version of the Paper Lace song The Night Chicago Died. I know I've promised them for a while now, but now I guess it's finally time to deliver. I must warn you, it's not very good and certainly uninspired. But you have to bear with me. Like Marvin the Paranoid Android, I'm feeling very depressed right now. So here goes:

Lovie was a coach on the north side of Chicago,
Went down to FLA, had a bad, bad day
In the rain on a Sunday night, in the southeast's crown jewel
The team from Chicago choked, and I looked like a fool
The night Chicago died.
When a man named Peyton Manning tried to make the trophy his own
And he called his fake audibles and some coverages were blown

I heard my neighbor curse and storm and swear the night Chicago died
Brother what a game it really wasn't, in fact it really sucked.
I heard my neighbor curse and storm and swear the night Chicago died
Brother what a game it really wasn't, in fact it really sucked.
God help us.

The crowd of Colts fans did roar as Rex kept falling down
And the Bears came very close to competing for the crown
Until the went 25 minutes of 3 and outs
All in all, not one of their better bouts

I heard my neighbor curse and storm and swear the night Chicago died
Brother what a game it really wasn't, in fact it really sucked.
I heard my neighbor curse and storm and swear the night Chicago died
Brother what a game it really wasn't, in fact it really sucked.
God help us.

Then there was no sound at all, since I shot my TV set
So I didn't have to see the accolades Peyton'd get
Now Junior Simple heads to Disney World, and how it does reek
And I'm not going to watch ESPN for at least a week.

The night Chicago died.

I know it's not great. Meter isn't exactly my strong suit as a poet. In point of fact, poetry isn't my strong suit as a poet. But I said I do it, and now it's done. If it kills my readership before it even gets off the ground, so be it. But the depressing end to an otherwise good season has me wondering what to do about next year.

Just so you know, I didn't shoot my television. How could I, when it gives so much and asks so little? I just threw it in there because Elvis, according to legend, used to shoot his TVs when Robert Goulet came on screen. Seeing Goulet in the Emerald Nuts commercial and loathing Peyton Manning as much as I do, the connection fell into place.

In the process of contributing to the construction of the Bears bandwagon and rebuilding it after the near disaster in Arizona and honest to goodness disasters at home against Miami and Green Bay and on the road in New England, I have become emotionally invested in the Bears. But the loser of the Super Bowl had not made the playoffs since the Titans in 2000 until Seattle did this season. And even the Seahawks submitted a lackluster performance in a very weak division this season.

Questions remain for the Bears; actually they hang over the team like the sword of Damocles. Among the big ones: Will Rex Grossman actually develop any measure of consistency? Are his health concerns behind him? How badly hurt is Cedric Benson? If he comes back healthy, how long can he coexist with Thomas Jones? How long can the team afford two high-priced tailbacks without losing players like Desmond Clark or Bernard Berrian? Will Charles Tillman be a Bear next season? Will the defense stay as healthy, or will there be another Tommy Harris injury and some other key player as well? Will Devin Hester play more defense and less special teams? Will they lose coaches in the offseason?

Based on the defensive performance, or lack thereof, tonight, I am more hopeful of Ron Rivera staying on for at least one more year. If he's not going to be a head coach, I think one more year of a great defense in Chicago will be better for him than a lateral move to Dallas or another team. I don't see Lovie leaving, either. That would be too dumb for words on the part of Bears' management. I like him as a coach. He has a quiet strength and consistency about him, his persona radiates confidence. I don't want to see him go.

I'm not sure what effect the talk about Smith and Rivera as candidates in Dallas had on the team's preparation. But I don't think it helped. And that's part of the larger problem that is the Super Bowl now. It's not just a game anymore, it's a cultural event. It's a monstrosity. And it's too bad. It's hard now, just to watch the game. Now you need to see the ads so you can talk about them, blog about them and rate them until someone like me who just wants to watch the game for its own sake loses his temper and smashes a chair over your head. For the record, I abhor violence if I can get caught in the act or it happens to me.

And then, every channel but the network carrying the game has to glom onto the game's popularity and try to come up with an alternative lineup to catch the non-fan. For instance, TBS ran a My Boys marathon, and no one called for an investigation into that crime against humanity (or at least good taste). Animal Planet ran a Puppy Bowl, which was footage of a set built to look kind of like a football field while puppies frolicked about. It was heartwarming, or it would have been if I had been lobotomized recently or if I didn't believe WC Fields was right on the money when he said anyone who hates kids and dogs can't be all bad.

But today wasn't all bad. A friend told me about Michael Vick's alter ego "Ron Mexico." I know I'm late to the party on this one, Deadspin and the Smoking Gun reported it a long time ago. I guess I live under a rock, but I figured I'd throw it out there because I laughed like hell when I read the story. If you haven't seen it yet, check it out. It's a must read.

I guess I'm not really surprised that Michael Vick has VD. It happens. Sometimes people think they're bulletproof. What really surprises me is his almighty poor choice of an alter ego. Ron Mexico? Why not Ron Smith? Ron Mexico is a really half-assed choice. There is no subtlety there. Ron Mexico sticks out like a sore thumb. An alter ego should help you blend. It's not as though any reasonable person would look at Ron Mexico and ask "Are you related to Dave Mexico from Memphis?" Might as well print out business cards that say Michael Vick, I have herpes.

But there is this site that delights in the Michael Vick/Ron Mexico saga. It's a riot. I wasted a few minutes on the name generator. The Cincinnati Kid's Ron Mexico name is Franc Ecuador. It's a nice touch, Franc with a C instead of a K. Makes it sound more exotic.

I suppose I ought to apologize for my long silence to both of the people who read this blog regularly. I had a pretty bad cold, so I was either goofy from cold medicine or miserable (more so than usual), so I didn't get around to blogging. Too bad that I didn't, what with all that happened over the last week or so.

First, the Red Sox signed JD Drew. I could not be happier about this. Yes, Drew has produced fairly impressive numbers for each game he plays. Too bad for Red Sox Nation that Drew is good for somewhere on the order of 30-40 games on the shelf in any given year. And there's the fact that fans in every city he's played seem to hate him, as well as Philly fans where he was drafted but refused to play.

Throw in the two highlights from 2006, when he was the second guy thrown out at the plate on one play in a playoff game and when he stabbed the Dodgers in the back after they let him out of his contract. He'll be a perfect fit with the culture of greed and incompetence that have been the hallmarks of this Red Sox team since its birth. He'll fit in quite nicely, and Red Sox Nation will hate him for it.

Unfortunately, this just might be the last mistake Theo Epstein ever makes as GM of the Red Sox (or perhaps ever). Dan Shaughnessy called for the Manny trade at the top of his lungs. Theo didn't make a deal. You do the math. Not even a gorilla suit will protect Theo from the wrath of the CHB. I mean the deal made perfect sense (if you're the CHB). Think about it. Trade him and you make the team worse, so the CHB won't have to break a sweat to rage against the dying of the light. There was no way the Sox would get anywhere near what they'd lose from any of the teams.

Even though the young players on the Dodgers will make Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig look like chumps, there is just a small chance that they might not deliver. Manny will have a psychotic episode or two during the next season. He will be maddeningly inconsistent while he is maddeningly consistent at the same time. He'll hit 35 homers, drive in 120 runs and bat .300. So keep him, and deal with him. Manny is, at this point in his career, pathologically incapable of being happy anywhere. Better to have him on your side and unhappy than anywhere where he has a chance to hurt you.

Then there is the Andy Pettitte saga. It's not a big deal that he's going back to the Yankees. It is unclear, however, exactly why the Red Sox showed little interest. Part of it might be that Theo is currently hiding in a safehouse somewhere until the holidays lest the CHB tear him limb from limb for missing a golden opportunity to weaken a nation, Red Sox Nation that is. Then there is the fact that the Red Sox are all set in the starting rotation. They don't need a lefty. Schilling, Beckett and Papelbon have it covered. I know they're all righties, but they are just so awesome that each could throw lefty and dominate if the situation should require it.

Then there were the college football awards this week, culminating in the presentation of the Heisman as I write this. I missed most of the award show, not because I didn't have a chance to watch it but because I tuned in and within 3 minutes had to change the channel. Chris Fowler might have broken the record for most awful jokes made in the shortest conceivable time. Troy Smith won the Heisman, as we all expected. I wanted Brady Quinn to win, not that he deserved to beat out Troy Smith, but because I am a Notre Dame fan.

I also think it's time to shut it with the BCS complaints. College football is a business, and the powers that be decided Florida would be a more interesting matchup for Ohio State than Michigan. That's the way it goes. Michigan should take care of business against USC and wait for Florida to lose to OSU before the complaints start. Lots of teams cry about being jobbed out of a big time bowl. Many of them are humiliated in the game they played, making them look doubly ridiculous. Think Oregon last season, crushed by Oklahoma after crying that they were shafted by the BCS. Prime candidates this season include Michigan and BC.

BC felt slighted that they have to play Navy in the Meineke Bowl. Also, Tom O'Brien has left the team to take the coaching job at NC State. All this seems to set the Eagles up for a fall. As for the team being slighted, perhaps wins over Central Michigan, Maine and Northeastern simply weren't impressive enough to offset losses to NC State and Miami. I think Michigan might learn to focus on the task at hand and forget what could have been the hard way when they run into USC who might be very, very angry after brooding on the UCLA game costing them a berth in the BCS championship game.

In other news, I don't know if you've had the chance to see the new TBS show My Boys. If you haven't, don't worry you missed very little. It seemed to me a combination of Sex and the City and Sports Night. If you liked either of those shows (or both), then you might like My Boys. If you hated them (as I hate them), then you might agree that just as two wrongs don't make a right, two bad shows don't combine to make a good show. Rather they combine to form a Rosemary's Baby of bad shows.

I think we need a moratorium on the idea that sports is a metaphor for life for a generation or so. Sports is entertainment, life is life. Another thing to think about is the underlying premise of the show, at least in so far as it has 0ne: the ultimate object of desire for the average American middle class male is a beautiful woman who is one of the guys and really knows sports. Perhaps that is the case, but it's not what the smart man wants.

Think about it, each person needs personal space and their own interests. It's good to have things in common, but if you share all of the same hobbies it will be bad in the long run. Most people don't seem to like themselves very much, so why would you want to live with a partner who is very much like yourself? Plus a woman with more male friends than female friends is a bit strange. Either she can't get along with women, or she has a ready made stockpile of people with whom to cheat should the opportunity arise.

While I am putting moratoria on things, I think it's time we gave man-child a rest. It's not clever, or funny, or even remotely intelligent to use that when referring to a football or basketball player. So no more man-child, please, and a few less man law ads.

On a sad note, we have a tie for tool of the week. The reasons for this author's inclusion should be readily apparent on reading this. What a loser this car is. If the style of this essay is at all representative of the author's mannerisms and conversation, all I can say is I want to party with this guy. Consider this sentence:

I believe the mass media place under attack our capacity for self-reliance by
emptying out our capacity to experience our childhood as our own; that is, a
childhood that provides us with memories and associations that take total
precedence over the fabricated nostalgia of movies and television.

Would it have killed him to break that claptrap down into two or three concise sentences? It might have killed the spirit of the piece, since everybody might realize that the author has no point but tries to conceal that sad reality in a haze of awkward constructions. Here's an idea, don't try to write like some great figure of the dimly recalled past until you show that you can write like a normal, average person.

And I have to include myself in the tool of the week category for reading this piece and understanding it. I am afraid that I can get carried away with that kind of writing in my own blog. I really hope not, but I'm too lazy to go through the past posts to check it out.

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