Dear George McCaskey: Don’t Sell the Bears
Dear George McCaskey,
I read recently that a fan wrote you a letter and asked you to sell the Chicago Bears. And you replied to this fan with a handwritten note, telling the fan you’re going to stick with it. It’s a cute story. Writing this fan back is incredibly kind and generous with your time. In response, I have my own request to you and your family.
To the McCaskeys: Don’t sell the Bears.
Your grandfather founded the NFL. Your franchise is one of the founding teams. You are in an incredibly lucky situation, one that every fan is envious of and would give their right arm to own a professional sports franchise. Plus, owning a pro sports team is a smart business investment. Don’t let public pressure dictate what to do with the future of your franchise.
Life is a series of choices. If fans aren’t happy with the product on the field, that’s their problem. It’s up to each fan to decide how they want to spend three hours on Sundays in the fall. There are 31 other teams to root for in the NFL. Don’t like the Bears? Find a new team. Can’t watch your new team in Chicago? Buy the NFL Sunday Ticket package. Can’t get DirecTV? Take up college football. Saturdays in the fall are just as amazing as Sundays. The product isn’t necessarily better, but the rivalries and tradition are fantastic. And the SEC might as well be the official minor league for the NFL.
It’s also up to season ticket holders and individual game buyers to determine how they want to spend their cash. As a former season ticket holder of another team in Chicago, it can be a profitable endeavor. I have friends who own season tickets to the Bears. I highly recommend them continuing with their season ticket investment. Not that they need my approval, of course.
Now, if enough fans decide to give up their Bears fandom for another team or something else, then be concerned. Until then, you’re good. Bears fans of a certain age will continue to cling to 1985 and hope to see that again in their lifetimes. Those who weren’t old enough and hear the stories will likely hang on for a new era of championship football. It’s hard to quit now when you’ve made the investment for decades. Don’t believe me? Ask Cubs fans.
As for me, well, I moved 900 miles away because I didn’t want to watch Bears football anymore. Just kidding. But there are perks of only seeing five or six Bears games a season. It’s less of an emotional investment and more of a natural curiosity. It also helps me keep up with angry Bears Twitter. It gets complicated, in a fun way, when Patriots fans ask me why I laugh when the Bears lose. It’s not the losing as much as it is the unique and original ways you go about it. Losing a playoff game on a field goal miss is one thing. But nobody will forget the Double Doink! Only the Bears could pull that off. (Double Doink is also a great fantasy football team name. Not that you care.)
Deep down, I’ll always love and root for the Bears. It’s what Chicagoans and Illinoisans do. The degree may be different, but love is love right?
Obviously(or not), I hope you guys win one more Super Bowl before my time is up on this earth. I just hit middle age, so no rush on this. My hope for the near future is that you all find a franchise quarterback. In my lifetime, about half the teams in the NFL have or had a franchise quarterback. You’re not one of them. Sorry, Punky QB and Smokin’ Jay. It’s not coincidence that the lack of a franchise QB has kept you from sustained success in this league.
I started writing this before the NFL Draft and I had some draft thoughts for you. Apparently, you have ESPN or something. Sure enough, you guys may have drafted a franchise QB. You guys weren’t afraid to use up some draft capital either. If I were Ryan and Matt, and I was trying to save my job, I wouldn’t be afraid to use future draft capital. Stick the next guy with the problem, right?
But I think you guys will get this one right. Only a hunch, but I love college football and I’ve watched a handful of Ohio State games. Justin Fields is so good and so fun to watch. And you even upset Patriots Twitter because they really wanted Fields. Now I get to rub that in a little. Thanks, George! Treat yo’ self! You’ve had quite the draft this year.
If anything, I’m impressed you learned two unbelievably valuable lessons from four years ago. I mentioned this already, but you weren’t afraid to trade more draft picks to get the players you want. Didn’t exactly go well the last time. Doesn’t mean you should try again. And you did.
The second, and maybe more important, lesson is this: Just because a quarterback drives a Toyota Camry doesn’t mean he’s a good quarterback. It just means he drives a Toyota Camry.
If Trevor Lawrence drives an Escalade and Ian Book shows up in a Camry, do you think Jacksonville was drafting Ian Book number one overall???
These are just some thoughts. I’m just a guy who wore the Walter Payton and Jim McMahon Hutch football uniforms when he played football in the yard as a kid. Not at the same time, of course. That would be extremely hot and uncomfortable. Point is, what do I really know?
Anyway, this started out about you keeping the team and turned into NFL Draft thoughts. I’ll reign it back in.
In short, don’t sell the team. Most fans are grown adults. We can decide how much we want to invest, financial and emotionally, in this team. Plenty of other options if we can’t handle it.
However, to run a solid organization, it certainly helps having a solid fanbase. For your sake, I hope Justin Fields works out for you. I haven’t seen this amount of optimism in Chicago, even from afar, in a decade. This could be amazing for the entire organization, for the fans, for the city. If Fields doesn’t work out, it will be like the Chicago Bears QB position is cursed. It might be the thing that drives enough of us away.
Take good care of this kid, George. Your future, and your franchise value, is riding on it.
What a Cubs World Championship Means to Me
Family. That’s what a Cubs World Series title means to me. The first Cubs game that I attended and remember was in 1985. A tall, blonde haired, five-year old stood along the brick wall separating the grandstands from the playing field. My mom, Colleen, decided to add red coloring to my blonde hair to replicate the same red hair flowing from the mane of Jody Davis. Davis will always be my favorite Cubs player. I loved lucky number 7, Davis’s number and his spot in the batting order. Davis was also tall and lanky, which is my same body type. And I always thought catching was cool. It also helped that Davis spotted me and did give me his autograph.
That was only one memory. Since that wonderful day in 1985, I would attend hundreds of Cubs games at the shrine on the corner of Addison and Clark. Living in Chicago’s south suburbs, my mom and stepdad took me to one game each month. Both big Cubs fans, they met at Wrigley Field and married months later. Even after we moved to central Illinois in 1988, we continued to see the Cubs monthly. Two siblings later, we were a family of five suffering from the disease of Cubs fandom.
Our Cubs trips, like many, involved arriving early for batting practice. We stayed for all nine innings (unless Grandpa was driving). And we hung out for next to the player’s parking lot for post-game autographs. The parking lot would have comfortably fit 12 cars; it usually fit 25-30. The peanut gallery would provide some comedic gems – “Hey Sanderson, can you sign this or will you throw out your arm?” Each game was usually finished off by heading out on Lake Shore Drive, turning off at North and Wells for a postgame meal at Ed Debevic’s. Burgers, fries, and waitstaff rudeness – what more do you want?
As I get older the games I remember are few and far between. I do remember the raucous environment of a Cubs-Giants nationally televised night game in ‘89. Nothing like relief pitcher Les Lancaster driving in a few runs in a Cubs win. We also splurged for tickets to Ryne Sandberg’s final home game, Kerry Wood’s first home start, and sat 20 rows behind home plate to watch a Sammy Sosa three homer game against the Phillies. Oh, I almost forgot convincing a few Catholic school teachers that the 6th grade field trip should include a game at 1060 West Addison Street.
Sadly, my stepdad passed away in 2001. He is one of the many that would never see a Cubs World Series winner. It rocked my world. I miss him every day. It’s been said that we all grieve differently. I spent my summer drinking and numbing the pain. Luckily, I had the Cubs. It was the one promising campaign of the Don Baylor era. It united my family and helped us heal.
In our first Cubs game after his passing, we sat in section 420. It was a warm summer day. Our seats were in the upper deck, high above home plate and below the press box. It was also prime foul ball territory. I’ll always remember one of the first foul balls hit in our direction. A high pop fly, the ball continued carrying towards our seat. My then 8-year old brother, David, had his Wilson mitt out, and all four of us leaned over to catch the ball. The ball landed on the seat in front of my brother, then bounced forward, deflecting off of David’s seat, and coming to a stop right underneath it. David grabbed it. At 8 years old, he was the first in the family to catch a live ball at Wrigley Field.
2003 was another life changing year. After my first April Cubs game, I drove around the north side trying to get back to my new apartment in suburbia. Driving west on Wrightwood, I never realized how many young people live in the neighborhood. I saw families playing in the park and twenty-somethings strolling into the neighborhood tavern. In that moment, I knew I had to move to Wrigleyville.
Moving to Wrigleyville was a 3-year process, but eventually I grew a pair and took the plunge. The day after I moved into my apartment, I strolled over to the final game of the 2006 season. I met Dusty Baker on the street. I think we all knew it was his last game. It was the fans way of saying goodbye. Nobody ever wants to see another person get fired, but I was glad the Cubs were heading in a different direction.
I took David to his first opening day in 2007. It was the coolest thing in the world to live four blocks from Wrigley Field. To be around the atmosphere, day in and day out. Even if I couldn’t get the little guy into a bar, it was still fun to be a part of the madness.
As I grew older, family began to mean friends too. Scott and I danced awkwardly on tables at the old Houndstooth when divisions were won. Mike and I closed down Goose Island after subsequent Cubs failures. John and I sat in the bleachers and chanted “Green Bay sucks!” during a Sunday night Cubs-Sox game. John being a Sox fan, it was the only thing we could agree on.
My life changed forever in two very different ways in the 2010 season. First, thanks to 2003 NLCS, I signed myself up for the Cubs season ticket waiting list. We will not discuss the details of that series. At least I channeled the energy from the disappointment and used it productively. Little did I know on a frigid December afternoon I would get the call from the Cubs: Would you like to buy season tickets? Of course, I did. 2 tickets in the bleachers? Sign me up.
Through those tickets, destiny was calling. Her name was Liz. We met on Opening Day 2010, the very first game of my season ticket package. 70 and sunny, the Cubs were up 9-1 in the 5th. While Liz’s friend Carrie mingled with the boys, her friend Brian gave my props for my Jody Davis jersey. This eventually led to a conversation with Liz. Her hair was flowing in the breeze, while she wore a blue Cubs shirt, a reddish jacket, and her favorite BluBlockers. I had no game and had no idea how to ask her out. The one and only thing I could think of was using my Cubs tickets. She said yes and gave me her number. Four and a half years later, she said, “I do.” And another two years later, she’s bearing our child.
You know how the rest of the story plays out. Sitting a dozen rows up in section 140, Liz made it to two World Series games with me. David was with me to see the Miguel Montero grand slam from game 1. My sister, Meghan, and I celebrated the Cubs first pennant in 71 years. My mom made it up for game 5 of the World Series, and we watched the comeback game of the series. Two games and three days later, the Cubs were champs. We rejoiced in the streets. We celebrated at the parade. We made daily trips to Wrigley just to soak it all in. A family, old and new, has seen it all. We no longer wait with anxiety, but with great anticipation for the next Cubs World Series Championship.
My Day at Medinah
June 30, 2012
9:45AM – I’m sitting in a Bolingbrook Denny’s. I’m excited. Who wouldn’t be? But not just for Denny’s. I’ll explain it a minute.
I’m picking up my 19 year old brother, David. My mom, who in central Illinois, is dropping off my brother because she’s afraid of my brother navigating his way through the Chicagoland suburbs. Again, he’s 19. It is what it is.
My brother is tired from his summer job, but seems excited for the day ahead. My mom thinks this is just another day at the golf course. Neither realize the magnitude of this day. We are not just playing golf at any golf course today. Thanks to my girlfriend, and I can’t thank her enough, we are playing a course that few Chicagoans are lucky enough to play
On this incredibly hot and balmy June afternoon, we have a tee time at Medinah No. 3.
11:45AM – Here! We make our way through the main entrance at Medinah and immediately see the majestic clubhouse. I’ve had this drive once before – in a shuttle at the 2006 PGA Championship. It’s a little different today.
11:50AM – Mercedes, Porsches, Ferraris, and yes, even one Lamborghini line the first rows of Medinah’s parking lot. I pull up in the blue bomber – my 2002 Jeep Liberty. I pull up to the side clubhouse entrance. We drop off the clubs to the very nice attendance. They even want to valet the car. Yeah, no. I’m too embarrassed to let anyone other than me and a few friends into the Liberty.
12:00PM – Mike and Kevin are here, right on time. I’ve known both cats for about a decade. Mike and Kevin are best friends. Mike is a former roommate of mine. Kevin is a friend, and like me, is an avid golfer.
12:05PM – The scene is straight out of Caddyshack. The best part – the slobs get to play Bushwood today.
We grab lunch at the outdoor patio near the pool. The food is good, the drinks are better, but the atmosphere is the best. I’m pretty sure we saw Spaulding at the pool. If we only had a Baby Ruth.
It’s possible I might have as much fun doing non-golf things at Medinah. Between the pool, the skeet shooting range, and the clubhouse, I could’ve been set. I’ve never shot a gun in my life, but as they say, when in Rome.
2:24PM – Finally. The first tee.
We meet our caddies Neal and Niall. I couldn’t make this up. The names are pronounced phonetically. Two of the nicest kids you’ll meet. Two of the better caddies I’ve had. They just didn’t know what they were in for.
I was more nervous on the first tee here than I was at Pebble. After I hooked my tee shot well left, I pushed my breakfast ball down the first cut of the right rough. Both balls are playable, but to speed up play, I use the breakfast ball(thanks guys). Kevin has the best drive, pummeling one 300+ right down broadway.
3:05PM – The par-3 second is 150 yards over water. Not long, but it will raise your blood pressure. David’s adventure begins here. The kid who plays once every other year pummels his tee shot. It hits the cart path beyond the green. His ball comes to rest at the top of the hill beyond the path. At least he’s dry, right?
Wrong. For his next magic trick, David’s second must carry the cart path and the bunker without rolling over the green and into the water. Well, it ends up in the bunker. The third shot? In the drink. To his credit, he was out of the sand in one.
If you end up in either back bunker at the second, play the bump and run or the Texas wedge. These bunkers have no lip. Better safe than sorry. You were warned.
3:25PM – Medinah’s test truly begins on three. Even former members agree. This par-4 is a dogleg left and long. I had a couple of pulled shots in the trees, but still saved bogey.
As we finish the third, two members give Mike the stare down for wearing casual shoes. Mike stares right back. Oh the humanity…
Slobs 1, Snobs 0.
3:50PM – I need a change of shorts after holing a downhill, left-to-right, twenty footer to save bogey.
The fourth is long, tight, the green is up the hill and on a plateau. Leave it short and you roll back down the hill. Leave it long and you better be lucky like me. Four here is insanely good.
4:50PM – My four best shots on the day came at 6 and 7. I carefully made a bogey on six, three-jacking it from 25 feet.
Seven was a different story. The longest and toughest par-five on the golf course, I pured driver and hit a solid 3-wood. I was still 80 yards from the green. Wedge and a birdie time? Not so much. I shanked my wedge into the right bunker and made seven.
Another reason for the difficulty at Medinah – uneven lies. The wedge shot was significant above my feet. I setup properly, but nerves kicked in. All I could think about was chunking the shot. So I used all hands for the shank.
Even when you are in the fairway, this course still teases you. It’s just not fair!
5:20PM – We finish 9. Yep, you read that right. Almost three hours to finish the round. We were slow, sure. But my brother rarely plays, Mike and I were all over the place, and oh yeah, it was 97 degrees with 110% humidity.
And of course, it’s Medinah. It’s really, really hard.
5:30PM – After pummeling my drive on 10, I have my most interesting shot of the day. My ball lies in the first cut and sits significantly below my feet. What do I do? The dreaded double cross. I pull my ball so far left, I hit the fence that separates 10 from Lake Street. I ending up making an 8.
6:15PM – 245 yards, downhill, over water. All carry. We all pull driver. Only Kevin comes close, hitting a tree on the left and having his ball land two yards beyond the green. Welcome to the 13th at Medinah.
We played our actual tee shots from the white tees and I made my first par of the day. I hit the green in regulation too!
6:35PM – We all clear the water on the par-5 fourteenth. We all mess up our seconds. Somehow we all make bogeys.
The 14th is long and undulating, like most of Medinah No. 3. It’s more challenging because the green is similar to an island green. Sure, it’s reachable in two. But the green is surrounded by sand in the front, trees on the side, and tall rough in the back. Laying up isn’t the worst idea here.
7:00PM – The Sergio tree. Well, what’s left of it. The tree was torn down during the Rees Jones-lead renovations a few years back. All that’s left is the stump. I do the obligatory Sergio run-and-jump. But I can’t even take myself seriously so I do the metrosexual version of it. I don’t know what that means.
7:30PM – Birdie.
Doing what no American did during the Sunday singles matches at the Ryder Cup, I made bird on 17. It. Just. Barely. Curled. In. My one and only bird on the day was from 20 feet. Nerves of steel on the tee shot. I’ve finally conquered the medium length par-3 over water.
7:40PM – The walk up 18th. I’ve played St. Andrews, Pebble, and Torrey Pines. But never with friends. This walk is much more special. The boys aren’t the sentimental types, but I’ll never forget it.
7:45PM – Of course, my third shot is in a nasty lie and below my feet in the greenside rough. I see my girlfriend and sister pull in as I walk into my chip shot. Talk about pressure! And…I chip it to 8 feet. I’ll take it. America wins!
7:50PM – We’ve made it. We survived the heat, humidity, high rough, fast greens, the sunset, and two chotchy members.
The 8 foot par save on 18 doesn’t matter(I left it six inches below the hole). The score doesn’t matter(I broke 100 though!). Having my friends, siblings, and of course, Liz with me was all that mattered.
Unless I win the lotto, this is probably my one shot at Medinah. I gave it all I had. I’m incredibly fortunate to play Medinah once, especially when it happened three months to the day before the final round of the Ryder Cup. No complaints.
For those who get the chance to play Medinah – be straight, bring your short game, and most importantly, have fun.
For all those who never get the chance, just know this – the slobs won today.
Matt's Box Seat Observations 