The Chicago Bears.
They won Super Bowl XX in 1986. Then years of heartache followed. For me it became an unhealthy relationship. Night-game losses to Green Bay hurt the most, ruined the night and the following day.
In 2007 the Bear’s Super Bowl loss to the Colts was all I could take. I broke up with the Bears and eventually stopped watching football altogether.
A number of times since, the Bears reached the playoffs, but never the Super Bowl. It didn’t concern me because I didn’t watch. I put the free time into doing what I like. Writing.
Then January 2026 came and I learned that on Saturday the 10th the Bears would face the Packers–at night. They’d play for the next step toward Super Bowl LX.
I weakened.
I came up with an excuse to watch that wouldn’t violate my principle: the game would make history no matter who won. I couldn’t miss it.
But there was an obstacle. Saturday evenings I join my parents at their condo for pizza. They’re in their nineties and follow strict routines. One is, dinner’s in the dining room. Another, no TV while eating.
I thought of a way to sneak around the second one. I’d tell them it would be fun to watch while enjoying the pizza. It would be a fresh, energizing change for the night.
I phoned ahead and they were quick to agree. Dad’s a Bears fan. Mom is too. She mostly likes watching us–and providing color commentary that’s sometimes insightful and sometimes ridiculous.
Would watching the wildcard game end my breakup with the Bears? I want to say it wouldn’t count, my parents put the game on. But their TV’s anchored in the den. It was me who brought a laptop so we could stream it right there at the dining table.
Before the kickoff my parents and I talked about the 1985 Bears and the parties and fun those games gave–especially watching McMahon, Payton, Perry, and the rest of that colorful, united team win Super Bowl XX.
That saturday night we hoped for Chicago to defeat Green Bay and advance one more step toward Super Bowl LX. Instead as we progressed through cocktails, dinner, and dessert we watched the Bears trail.
Before halftime my dad wrote off the Bears, noting their defense wasn’t good enough to enable a win. Around 10 PM we watched the Packers get 6 more points. 27 to 16 with only 6 minutes left? I tell Mom and Dad, “I’m taking my computer and going home.”
As I’m packing, my dad walks to his den and turns the TV on. He calls me, extends the remote and says, “find the game for me.” I press the mic, say “Bears game,” and it comes up 27 to 24. What? Somehow the Bears scored 8 points during the brief blackout I imposed.
So there we are, my dad and I standing shoulder to shoulder, and my mom’s now in the den too, in a chair that’s facing us rather than the TV, and she’s watching Dad and I standing and cheering for the Bears like we did so many decades ago.
We watch the Packers miss a field goal with less than 3 minutes left, watch the bears get a TD with less than 2 minutes left. Now the Bears are ahead and it’s 31 to 27. They hold the Packers and ultimately catch their pass to complete the win!
What a great time my dad, mom, and I had. Especially those last minutes of the game. It felt a bit like ’85.
Now I’m planning to watch the next game with them.
As for the Bears and me… Will I go back to being a fan? I’m telling myself to be strong. I’ve been hurt too many times. 😉
Jim's Writing 