In 2018, Matt Nagy’s Chicago Bears were consistently the most prepared team on the field. They showed up hungry and ready to play, week in and week out. In a 48-10 demolition of the Buccaneers, they schemed a receiver open on seemingly every play. In a dominant victory over the Rams, they neutralized Defensive Player of the Year Aaron Donald to one quarterback hit. Nagy’s offensive scheme perfectly complemented an inexperienced quarterback in Mitch Trubisky, and the team exuded a confidence that they would win every single game, no matter the circumstances.
How big a difference a year can make.
The Matt Nagy experience cratered on Sunday night in a listless, nationally televised 17-7 loss against the Rams. It was less than a year after a nearly identical roster smacked Sean McVay’s squad – in front of the same broadcast team.
Granted, this game was played in Los Angeles instead of Chicago, in much warmer weather, and without the injured Akiem Hicks. But these Bears didn’t resemble last year’s unit at all. They looked lazy, lifeless and lost, and displayed sign after sign of bad coaching.
Countless dropped passes. Receivers quitting on routes. An unwavering commitment to running the ball from the shotgun formation despite a total dearth of success. Declining a five-yard penalty on a fourth-down punt that would have put them within a foot of the line to gain. An option play to the short side of the field, on third down, with a hobbled running back.
And then there was the hip injury heard ‘round the world. Trubisky was replaced by Chase Daniel with under four minutes left, the team facing a 10-point deficit. It was a shock to everyone, including broadcasters Al Michaels and Cris Collinsworth, who didn’t seem to realize there was a switch until a couple plays in.
Despite the momentary overreaction on Twitter, it seems Trubisky’s injury was legitimate. All available information suggests it wasn’t a benching, and that he was walking with a limp after the game.
But with every piece of information that leaks out, the worse it looks for Nagy. Trubisky reportedly injured his hip at the end of the first half, and told the media that he “really wasn’t telling anyone” he was hurt. Postgame interviews backed this claim up; Taylor Gabriel said it was “surprising to hear,” and Prince Amukamara said nobody knew.
However, Nagy also said quarterbacks coach Dave Ragone told him they should “keep an eye” on Trubisky, and that he knew “a few series” before the quarterback was pulled that something wasn’t right. Trubisky also said he was evaluated at the half.
So why wait until three minutes left, with the game already out of hand, to replace him with Daniel? Why not tell his team that their quarterback was injured, instead of letting them wonder? Why call a read option play on third-and-one, forcing your injured quarterback to run, when the running back involved in the play is injured, too?
All of the available information suggests Nagy’s finger is far from the pulse of this team. That there has been a fundamental breakdown in communication. Just like against the other Los Angeles team a few weeks ago, when Nagy forwent the chance to create a shorter field for his struggling kicker, and famously didn’t line the ball up on Eddy Piniero’s preferred hash mark. Just like the Eagles game – or the Packers game, or the Raiders game, or the Lions game – where the team has started out slow behind a mystifying commitment to the same RPO, shotgun-heavy offense that hasn’t been effective all season long.
The offense worked last year. It wasn’t great, but it worked. Chicago was ninth in the NFL in points per game in 2018. Now, they’re 28th. Chalk that up to a defense that got in the end zone six times if you want. It’s still inexcusably ugly in 2019. “Offense 202?” More like Remedial Offense, with a professor that won’t change the curriculum despite the fact that everyone is failing the class.
Maybe Nagy’s scheme in 2018 masked how limited Trubisky is as a passer. Maybe the status quo wouldn’t have been sustainable. And maybe Nagy’s season would look a lot better if he had a quarterback who could consistently make basic throws. But since the “202” version of this offense is so clearly not working, why commit to it so relentlessly? Why not line up in the I-formation with David Montgomery and mix power running with play action, which works for other below-average quarterbacks? Which actually worked for spurts against the Eagles and Chargers?
It certainly ventures into reactionary take territory to call for Nagy’s job, or compare him to Marc Trestman. Nagy has a track record of success. He took a 5-11 team, changed the culture, and led Chicago to the playoffs in his first season. He will get the chance to hit the refresh button in 2020, and integrate his system with a different quarterback who (hopefully) better fits the offense he wants to run.
But at the very least, Nagy has lost the benefit of the doubt, and it’s getting harder and harder to defend him with every lifeless loss. When players are quitting on routes (Taylor Gabriel), removing their helmet during a play (Cordarrelle Patterson), failing to call for fair catches (Tarik Cohen), making hand gestures (Anthony Miller) and dropping passes (pretty much everyone, including the mostly-blameless-until-now Allen Robinson), that usually indicates a lack of focus. Which is more often than not reflective of the coach.
At 4-6 in a loaded NFC, the Bears’ season is over. Any minuscule playoff hopes are now gone. And an already sizable quarterback controversy will only continue to grow. Over the final six games, Nagy’s job is now to keep his team focused, keep the locker room together and try to inspire some semblance of hope for 2020. A loss to the reigning NFC champion Rams is one thing. A loss next week to the 2-8 Giants? That might be a burn-it-to-the-ground-style catastrophe.
Nagy’s mantra is “be you.” But just “being him” hasn’t been good enough in 2019. In the face of escalating adversity, it’s time for him to “be better.”
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