Dear Chicago Bears,
I’m so sorry. I absolutely can’t watch you play one more minute this season. It’s not you. It’s me. I’m the jinx. I’m the curse set upon you whenever I lay my eyes upon the television to watch a game. Last night? I joined the game toward the end of the second quarter. I watched all of the third. And that’s when I realized: It’s me. I’m the trouble. And I immediately went to bed. (and it had nothing to do with OD'ing on sports after a Cubs game in the afternoon.)
To bear out (<<see what I did there?) my theory, the score when I started watching yesterday, was 24 to 3, Bears. When I stopped, the Bears were only up by one touchdown. One! When I woke up this morning, to birds chirping and Bears fans whistling, the final score was 40 – 23, Bears.
See what I mean?
I first noticed this pattern last year. I started watching the Bears again after a few years on hiatus (I got a busy life, man) toward the second half of the season. I know! But yesterday, well that just confirmed everything. I. CAN’T. WATCH. THE. BEARS. PLAY. Besides, I just can’t do that to my very good new Facebook BFF Jay Cutler (See how good a FB friend I can be Tom Skilling?)
This may kill me; I grew up a big fan of the Bears. I’m fond of telling people that the SNL skit with the Superfans is based on my family, right down to the kielbasa and heart attacks. We count the minutes to Ditka at any family gathering--with bonus points to the '85 Bears. (The wager concerns how long it will take, at this particular gathering, before either subject is broached. Like The Price is Right, your guess can be under, but not over.) I proudly own the above autographed poster of the 1991 Bears.
But, like all superstitious sports fans, I will do whatever it takes to help my team. Even if it means that now that I finally have some time to sit in front of the TV (once I figure out how to operate the $%#^#!@ jerry-rigged up thing with cable and a receiver and AppleTV and four %$^#ing remote controls) on a Sunday afternoon, I won't. I will save them any more bad luck attributable to moi. From here on out, I will spend my Sunday afternoons resisting all Bears coverage and I will sit quietly, listening to my other very good Facebook friend, Johnny Mars, on the radio.
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