Are you ready for a football post?

Except for bitching after the Michigan game, I don't think I've talked much about football this year, either college or pros. So let's do a little of that right now.

First of all, if you're interested in the College Bowl Challenge, let me know in the comments box; last year, as you may recall, I gave up on trying to collect cash - especially as entry fees had previously been a scant two dollars - but put in your two cents (ha!) on whether or not you'd rather play for money if at all possible. We could always up it to a more-worth-trying five bucks, although with the crapshoot nature of bowls I don't know if anyone would care enough. The alternative, of course, is simply to do it for pride, as last year.

So - Northwestern. In the Sun Bowl.

Pros: It's not a bowl we've seen them in before; it's not lame-ass Detroit; it's slightly more "prestigious" than the fairly new Music City Bowl; UCLA doesn't have a great defense.
Cons: UCLA does have a usually strong offense; it's lame-ass El Paso.

This is the kind of game where you could see more combined points scored than in a Northwestern basketball game. The last time Northwestern was in a bowl they came up just short; this year the defense seemed to frequently make plays when it absolutely had to (save the Penn State game), but can they hang around long enough to put themselves in that situation? The Cats never seem to have real bowl chops, so I'm not exactly optimistic, but I'll watch it as long as I can.

In other news.... da Bears.

I've avoided talking about this as long as I could because I figured it couldn't last, but the defense keeps being ridiculous and the offense combines to do just enough to win. Still, the comparisons to the '85 team are a little worrisome - that team, after all, had Walter Payton (1,551 yards that year), and while Jim McMahon may not have been Joe Montana, he wasn't quite as esteemed a graduate of the "Please God, just don't let him mess up" school (McMahon's '85 stats: 178/313, 2,392 passing yards, 15 TDs, 11 INTs; Orton's 2005 stats so far: 165/309, 1,591 passing yards, 9 TDs, 13 INTs). Sure, the defense may be a little better - though there's the argument for the rest of the league being kind of watered down, and certainly the Bears have capitalized to some degree on having a schedule that isn't exactly one of the hardest out there - but despite the old "offense wins games, defense wins championships" adage, it really does help to have some offense. While this team has shown flashes at times, it seems like in general they're content to run it constantly, not ask Orton to do much, settle for field goals, and assume the defense will get stops and turnovers. And it's worked so far, but can that really translate into a playoff run, even in a fairly weak NFC? I don't know. I like Orton (even though he went to Purdue), but can you honestly tell me you wouldn't take someone like Jeff Garcia right about now? 6-for-17 for 68 yards might be enough against the 2-win Packers, but that's not holding up in January (not that Orton doesn't usually have a better game than that, of course, but still). There's now the rumor that Grossman could be back, but do you just throw him back out there if you're Smith, saying he earned the job before going down? I don't know.

I'm also starting to get worried about the Vikings, suddenly one of the hotter teams in the NFL and just two games back with the toughest stretch of the Bears' season coming up in these final four games (at Pittsburgh, Atlanta, at Green Bay and, of course, at Minnesota to finish the year). Of those games, the Bears need only go 1-3 as long as the one is against Minnesota, but it's a little worrying. I have faith in the defense, but Pittsburgh has a pretty good defense too and it takes very little to stop this Bears offense. That's one of those games where there isn't a potential score low enough to surprise me. 6-3? 3-0? How about 4-2? Anything could happen as long as it involves no touchdowns being scored. The Atlanta game - well, you never know what you're getting from Vick. At least this one's in Chicago. I have a hard time believing that the Bears as configured should be losing to either Green Bay or Minnesota, but it's hard to believe that they're going unbeaten in the division (even if it's only 6-0 now with the gerrymandering). I figure they might trip up at Lambeau - Favre is certainly not what he was, and they finally got him at Soldier (first win over Green Bay there since 1993? Ridiculous!), but you can't write him off in a game against the Bears. The Vikings game - well, they'd better win that one, especially if they lose to the Packers.

The weird thing to think of is that if the Bears win 12 games - quite possible, though hardly certain - they might actually be the #1 seed in the NFC and potentially have just two home games - in Chicago, in January, possibly against teams not as familiar with the weather like Seattle, Carolina, or Tampa - standing between them and a trip to the Super Bowl. Bizarre thought. Of course, it didn't help in 2001, but there was something very flukey about that year. This year it seems like the defense might actually be the real deal and ready to hold up in the playoffs, though the offense's mediocrity is going to prevent any blowouts. This team isn't winning any 46-10 games.

The other odd thing is that I find myself caring more than I expected to. I'm a Bears fan, but I'm not a crazy die-hard Bears fan. Their general futility over the past decade and a half - the amount of time that I've really been into sports - has never affected me as much as the Cubs' has. The distinction here can probably be traced to the fact that the Bears have won in my lifetime, even if I have no recollection of it. But this morning I was in the car and they played the call of Vasher's INT return in the fourth. The announcer yelled "Touchdown!" as Vasher scored and immediately followed that with "Touchdown Bears!" - and as he yelled "Touchdown Bears!" I could feel something within me leap, almost palpably, as if I had some deep, buried inner Bears fan conscience that was doing cartwheels. And I was suddenly reminded of what all this means, of what a good Bears season is really supposed to be about, of what it feels like to beat a bitter rival in December (even in 2001, two of the Bears' three losses came to Green Bay), of what it feels like to hear "Touchdown Bears!" and remember, "That's my team doing that." And I suddenly remembered why I cared and how much I cared.

I have often wondered if I'm really the right "kind" of sports fan. I follow the scores and sometimes watch the games, but I am rarely to be found at the stadiums and I cannot recall ever feeling emotional over a big win or a big loss. I didn't cry when the Cubs lost in 2003; I was happy when the Bulls and Devils did all their winning but I cannot say I feel like it provided me with any superlative joy. Yet I care deeply and unreservedly about the outcomes of games. So why is that, I wondered, when what seemed like it should have been the real importance of their outcomes seemed to elude me?

What it comes down to is simply that I do care. I'm not at the games because I don't have the money. I haven't been emotional after a big win because all the big wins in the last 10 years have seemed like foregone conclusions. The Bulls and Devils? They've already won, how could they not do it again? In some respects I was the same person I hated - I could justify it because these were my teams, they had been since before they won (even if in less conscious fashion), but I was spoiled. I expected titles and anything less was simply a bitter disappointment. And that's no way to live.

So what this season's Bears provide, and what I hope at least one future Cubs team will provide for me, is hope. The hope that we will see something we have not seen in a long time and do not feel like we can say for sure if we will ever see again. The way you hear "Touchdown Bears!" and do not simply feel relieved, like "Thank God they finally took control against a 2-10 team," but feel pure joy washing over you, the sheer unadulterated pleasure of your team beating your biggest rival on your field in a critical game for your playoff chances. Feeling so connected to what's going on that referring to the team as "we" no longer sounds toolish. Finally realizing just how much you don't want this run to end.

I can't say I expect the Bears to win the Super Bowl, or even make it. But I hope they do. Of course I do every season, but usually that's over long before this point of the year. Now, it's a hope that for once can have some actual foundation. A hope that lifts my spirits every time a Bear crosses the plane into the end zone. I wasn't even prepared for how good it would make me feel - but I hope it doesn't stop anytime soon.