The Bears already feel like they’re on the edge of complete collapse.
We are one week (read: one week) into the 2023 NFL season, and it feels like the Chicago Bears are already in crisis mode. Following a disastrous 38-20 beatdown at the hands of the hated Green Bay Packers, the Bears could’ve simply brushed themselves off and moved on. They’ve done seemingly everything but.
Where to even begin? Let’s start with the dreaded boos.
New addition D.J. Moore couldn’t believe a fanbase that’s seen 30 losses to its No. 1 rival since 2003 would start booing in the second quarter of another listless performance. Second-year safety Jaquan Brisker followed up those sentiments by practically begging Bears fans to give more patience to a franchise that has four playoff wins in 30 years and none since 2010. Mind you, this is the same Brisker who ran his mouth saying Jordan Love is “nothing special” after he helped the Packers demolish the Bears.
But the boos are just a symptom, a fan’s natural reaction to help ward off their team’s diseased culture.
I mean, when was the last time you heard a serious franchise talk about improving lackluster energy after one whole game?
Fellas, as a native Chicagoan, I’ll keep it straightforward. The Bears own the third-largest media market in the United States. They own it. They literally have complete dominion. They could go winless for three straight seasons, and everyone in Northeastern Illinois would still go absolutely gaga for them. This entire region of the country is head over heels in love with the Bears and shows them nothing but affection the moment there’s a hint of promise. From March to late August, Chicago fans heard seemingly nothing but glowing reports from Halas Hall about how their beloved Bears were coming along. Moore was a playmaker they were desperately missing. Justin Fields had taken the next step as a leader and a quarterback. And Matt Eberflus was instilling a quality culture that would be reminiscent of a consistent playoff team soon enough.
With no signs of these developments from the jump, Chicago is showing it also turns on the Bears just as fast the moment there’s a hint nothing meaningful has changed for the better (like right now).
Bad games come and go. Bad cultures linger. If Bears players can’t handle the heat of a restless fanbase that knows the difference, they should probably switch out their uniforms for another team. Showing up for Week 1 woefully unprepared to play your biggest rival at arguably their weakest point in two decades and expecting unconditional love is nearly as inexplicable as the Bears’ performance.
Consider Moore, one of the NFL’s most underrated playmakers. He saw two targets in his Chicago debut. Former trade acquisition Chase Claypool turned in the kind of haphazard effort that makes you think he doesn’t want to play professional football anymore. Fields is still turning down deep shots he used to make with regularity. And a defense the Bears have invested nearly $70 million and four second-round picks in over the last two offseasons couldn’t handle an inexperienced Packers quarterback in his second career start. There were almost more broken coverages on the back end than impact plays.
Eberflus and his coaching staff have spent the days since their drubbing trying to put out a grease fire with a bucket of water. Eberflus, a “CEO” coach who apparently prefers to delegate, didn’t know why Moore was subbed out during an early red-zone trip after making his only two catches. This despite it being quite literally the head coach’s job to know why his best players aren’t on the field in critical situations.
When offensive coordinator Luke Getsy was asked about aspects of a futile Bears’ game plan, his answers amounted to a similar expression. He doesn’t know why Chicago’s offense looked broken. He doesn’t know why Moore was a de facto decoy.
But it’s probably someone else’s fault, so he’ll figure it out later.
Oh yes, it’s not the plan that’s a problem. It’s how the players executed the plan. The Bears couldn’t possibly have considered different strategies after scoring six first-half points — the players just had to play better.
A tired cop-out, for sure, but not a surprising one in Chicago. This is how dysfunctional NFL organizations react to entirely reasonable fan pressure. They point their fingers at each other. It’s always someone else’s fault. The blame always falls at the feet of another person who should’ve been doing their job better, but specifically, not me.
To his credit, Fields may have been the one major Bears figure to take responsibility. He even apologized to Bears fans. Based on the organizational-wide hissy fit that’s followed, perhaps he shouldn’t have been the only person to do so:
Almost everything about the Bears’ response to a horrendous Week 1 loss speaks volumes about where the NFL’s oldest franchise stands amid its latest rebuild. No one in this city expected a Super Bowl contender in the preseason — do not let the Pollyannas on social media convince you otherwise. They just wanted progress. They just wanted competence. They wanted a sign the Bears weren’t on the brink of a breakdown the second they faced any adversity.
That the Bears themselves are already raising the alarm bells shows they were never ready to face any serious expectations. This is a Chicago movie I’ve seen countless times, and I’m not sure I can stomach seeing the same depressing ending.
