Still Gotta Come Through Chicago
Saint Patrick's Day in Chicago
Happy Friday Chicago!
It’s about that time.
Mommy comes back, she always come back, she always comes back to get me. Mommy comes back, she always comes back, she would never forget me.
Mother Nature is a horrid one, but she does always come back. She’s reaching her arms out to me, and I know she’s not here to stay, but she’s at least given me the chance to look at her and smile.
I’m a hardened Midwestern man who believes in the benefit of the winter, up until when the sunshine first hits my face in the spring and I compulsively smile so hard that I reach a giggle.
I’ve teetotaled my way into March. It’s gotten me nothing, other than mental sharpness, predictable moods, physical fitness, boosted creativity, and time to clearly define life goals.
And therefore, it’s time to get back on the wagon.
After all, during these dry winter months, I’ve been dreaming of waking up on Sunday with crusty lips, my mouth tasting like ass, a pounding headache, bloodshot eyes, intrusive thoughts about my job, and a strong desire to order 40 wings to my doorstep at 11 a.m for $52.
You just can’t beat that, and you can’t beat Saint Patrick’s Day in Chicago.
You can’t beat 400,000 people pouring into the city with the sole goal of either seeing a river turn green or getting blacked out drunk. The jury is still out on which group most deserves to be naturally selected.
You can’t beat surge pricing on Ubers, people shouting for no reason and staggering across the sidewalk, near fights at every physical touch, and people yelling “Where’s Your Greennn?” while spitting on your face, like you tried to enter into a rival gang territory without the right colors on, and the rival gang’s leadership is over-served white women.
It doesn’t get any better than going out excited and immediately being met with 20mph winds at your face in a line for a bar you didn’t even want to go to.
I’m dying to tell everyone that my tab is open, and dying not to collect after the fact (I feel guilty). I can’t wait to check my credit card statement accidentally the next day because I’m anxious and scrolling my phone, only to see a $426 charge from the bar I didn’t want to go to.
It’ll be great to take a walk on Sunday — the kind of one where I make sure I can still get air into my lungs — only to see people jogging down the street, walking their kids in strollers with coffees in hand, and going to enjoy their last day off the right way before the Monday Shuttle comes to pick us up again. Eyes still bloodshot, breath still bad after a brush, I’ll look at them with a half smile, and they’ll look at me with sadness.
The wife covers the baby’s ears, and whispers to her husband “he’s back on the drink.” I saw her say it.
But gone with the hangover is courage, and so I say nothing. She’s right, anyway.
I’m back down in the minor leagues. I hit three home runs in 12 games in the show. My dad told me he was proud of me, I convinced my girlfriend that she should come back with our kids and that I was ready to step up to the plate in real life, too.
But then I struck out, accosted the umpire and then my manager — who was trying to console me — and threw my bat, which then hit the 7-year-old bat boy in the eye.
I’m back down in the minors, with wing sauce on my cheeks.
But now I’m back out of the metaphor, and the first hangover in months has me thinking about driving off to the Great West, and not coming back. I don’t have even have a car. I rent one anyway, with no intention of returning it, and arrive in Northern California.
I get there, stay for eight days, and put my phone away. When the search party gets here, I’ll tell them I’m fine — I’m where I’m supposed to be now.
When I do pick up my phone after eight days, though, the only messages I’m greeted with are social media clips from friends. I “haha” each of them and pack my bags. It’s time to drive back to Chicago.
On the way back, a tinge of serotonin returns as I blast one song after another made by lesbians, for lesbians. Michael Jordan looks at me from the passenger seat and says, “Still Gotta Come Through Chicago, after all, right kid?” I tell him I think I can make it back for my college final.
And there it dawns on me that this may just be a dream.
My first thought is that I can’t put this in a newsletter. A dream is the most played-out literary and cinematic device there is. The car crashes.
My eyes open. Clothes from last night on the bed side. Mouth tastes like ass, check. Pounding headache, check. Phone placed directly next to the charger, but not in it. Check.
The physical and mental price of having a good time has its arms wrapped tightly around me. Mother Nature’s sun is nowhere to be found. The blinds are closed.
I dreamt about the day I just had repeatedly while at the urinal in the dark days of January. It finally came, at least in bits and pieces.
I had some beers, Mother Nature’s sun made an appearance, I wore green to appease the rival gangs, and my friends told me they loved me when they could no longer open their eyes. I sang my favorite Irish songs and only pulled my pants down once to show the shamrock that’s tattooed on my ass. I didn’t even say, “How’s that for wearing green, douche bag?” afterward.
Get me on the court and I’m trouble—it was a good day, Ice Cube.
I take one of the arms of despair off me. Then the other. Let’s open the blinds.
As I sit and look out at Chicago, I see it as it will be, not as it is. It gave me a sneak peek just yesterday, after all.
For all of Saint Patrick Day’s warts, it delivers every time. It’s best thought of not as a day, but as a vessel into all the days that lay ahead of us now.
Yes, I’m hungover, and the Monday Shuttle is about to be on its way.
But the proverbial Monday and Tuesday of the calendar year are gone.
This week, I’ll be listening to the Cubs on the radio at 6 a.m. in Japan (they’ll be in Japan, I’ll be shaking my head at Chicago graffiti on my train ride).
Next week, the NCAA tournament will be here. In both weeks, I’ll throw on my SEE RED Bulls playoff shirt and accept them for who they are — a dogshit team that has won four in a row.
Soon after this, summer will be here. And soon after that, football will be here. The Bears will be here with a brand new offensive line.
Sometimes, even if you stagger a few steps backward on Saturday, you can walk a few steps forward on Sunday. That’s my plan this weekend, as the best is yet to come.
Saint Patrick’s Day in Chicago is great, despite the green-river gawkers, the green-clothes police, the frustrating winds that always come out on that day. And you can always make more money.
What really matters is that we made it, again.
Just when you’re through with the cold, the grind, the barren land and the barren weekends, Saint Patrick’s Day arrives.
But before then, we’ve got a lot to get into.
Last week, the Bears traded a sixth-round pick for Jonah Jackson, the former Pro-Bowler who played under Ben Johnson in Detroit. He’ll be the right guard. They traded a future fourth-round pick for the first team All-Pro Joe Thuney, who was signed when Ryan Poles was still in Kansas City. He’ll play right guard.
And now they have their center, after signing Drew Dalman — arguably the best offensive lineman on the free agency market — to a three-year, $42 million deal that includes $28 million guaranteed.
With that, the interior offensive line is completely overhauled, and the offensive line is reinforced.
I use the verb reinforced deliberately. Three signings does not amount to a solidified offensive line, nor necessarily a complete one.
But it would be hard to argue that the Bears could have gotten off to a better start to the offseason than they have.
Before the draft is even here, the Bears have attacked their biggest need with all the tools at their disposal. It hasn’t been a haphazard, either, it’s been deliberate. The Bears didn’t just sign three offensive linemen, they handpicked two available guards and used trade capital to get them. Then, they signed the best center on the market.
CBS’ Lead NFL Insider Jonathan Jones also reported that Dalman actually took less money to sign with the Bears. It’s unclear how much less, or who the other bidders were. If that’s true, it’s a further credit to the job Ryan Poles has done since the season ended.
The Bears are not who they were in December, or even close to it.
Building out a great offensive line overnight won’t be easy. All three of these guys have different strengths and weaknesses, and they will be working with two young, mostly unproven tackles.
But as for the concerns around the schemes that each succeed in, that is not as big of a concern for me as it is for others.
Johnson is obviously aware of what kind of talent he wants in his interior line, and Poles is not just signing offensive linemen to sign them. If he was doing that, there’d be a big-time trade (like Washington’s for Laremy Tunsil), just-because free agent signings, or a combination of both. The Bears went a different route. It was calculated.
With how precise the process was, I imagine they deeply considered how all three would fit together, with Braxton Jones and Darnell Wright, and with Johnson’s offense.
Johnson also views the diversity of strengths as additive.
“We want some tough, some gritty, some dirty individuals and we feel pretty good about the two guys we got,” Johnson told the media this week. “Smart is a word that comes to mind, particularly with the interior players. We would love to have some versatility to our scheme, some multiplicity, if you will. We got a couple guys in the building now that we feel strongly can handle a variety of different concepts and schemes that we might want to employ each and every week.”
Even if Dalman is more of a “risk”, in the fact that he does not have a direct relationship with Johnson or Poles, his signing is more than justifiable.
Even if he doesn’t work out, which I think he will, his failure with be like Johnson’s (if he fails). Those failures, while unlikely, won't make me mad. The Bears have needed a lynchpin at center for years, and they went out and got one. Like nabbing Johnson, the Bears in both situations put their balls on the table and went for the best on the market.
They also have an out on Dalman’s deal after two years. Thuney has one more year on his deal, and they can get out from Jackson’s contract after two years too (they extended him by an additional year Thursday).
The best case scenario is that the Bears have not just reinforced, but solidified their offensive line. The worst case scenario is that this doesn’t work out, and in that case, they won’t be financially stuck.
These moves have all been shrewd — very high upside, very low downside.
The same goes for the defensive line signings this week. Those come off as less exciting than the aforementioned additions, but are still important nonetheless.
They, too, are short deals. The 3 year, $48 million deal for the former Colt Dayo Odeyingbo has an out for the Bears after two years, following the same script. As does the 3 year, $42 million for Grady Jarrett (only $28 million is guaranteed).
Jarrett is a 31-year-old two-time Pro Bowler. He could be on the other side of the hill, though I doubt it. The Bears needed a surefire veteran to join Montez Sweat and Gervon Dexter Jr., and they got one. Jarrett had just 2.5 sacks last year, but those statistics are not generally indicative of how much a guy has left to give.
Good pass rushers are good pass rushers. The sack numbers have a lot to do with what’s going on around them, and who’s around them. The Falcons have rarely emphasized defense this decade.
If I can cherry-pick an example here, Robert Quinn had two sacks for the Bears in 2020 before breaking the sack record with 18.5 in the next year.
At the very least, the gregarious Jarrett will be of benefit to the young pass rushers that the Bears have recently drafted (Austin Booker) and the ones they will likely draft in the next two years.
“I had an opportunity to join this team, join Ben, be a part of something that is gonna be special,” he said at his presser. “Me being somebody who wants to be in a position to compete for championships, encourage the younger guys around me and just really share my experience and my hunger for greatness to others who want to achieve it. I’m in a special place, in a special time, in a special moment where I’m supposed to be.”
I also believe a reinforced defensive line will allow Montez Sweat to have a career year.
I do not know much about Odeyingbo, though I do know he was a coveted name on the free agent market. I also do love the mix-and-match Poles pulled with the signing of the 31-year-old Jarrett and the signing of Odeyingbo, who is entering his prime at 25 years old.
He had three sacks last year in Indianapolis, but also registered 17 quarterback hits.
The Bears now have the 10th overall pick, along with the 39th and 41st picks, to go get more help. Even after the spending spree, they have $16 million left of effective cap space.
There was plenty of cap space to go around, and the cap also hiked by nearly 10% this year.
Poles and Johnson can take a collective, clear head into April’s draft. There are less dire needs to fill.
The Bears adhered to a smart and easily followable process the first few months of the offseason.
If they want to, they can now backfill their offensive and defensive lines to set up for success in years to come with young players. They can also add the best players available. They can also do a bit of both.
Rarely does it feel like the Bears have both luck and strategy on their side. Right now, though, is one of those times.
#BEARDOWN
When the MLB season kicks off on Tuesday in Tokyo, Japan, Rob Manfred will still have his Ebenezer Scrooge nighttime onesie on, snoring a cartoonish snore.
I, on the other hand, will have the radio blaring while I’m in the shower, picturing myself a steel worker readying for work, about to build up the country’s infrastructure. Listening to the ol’ ball game.
And though I think the kickoff to the season is especially Manfredian (in other words, stupid), I am fired up to listen to the game end-to-end before the work day even gets started.
I am inappropriately locked in to this Cubs team, and all I ask for is a 1-1 start. A 2-0 start against the Dodgers may actually be too much, it may lead to too many overreactions and too large a cliffhanger until the season actually gets underway the following week.
But don’t give me the 0-2 start. Don’t take the wind out of my sails.
I’m looking forward to Shota Imanaga shoving in his homeland to kick off the year, and I’m ecstatic that Matt Shaw will be joining the 40-man roster ahead of Japan.
Shaw has just 35 games above AAA under his belt, and only played a handful of spring training games due to an oblique strain. The goal, obviously, is for him to be the third baseman going forward. Given his current situation, the Cubs bringing him along is still a sign of how high they are on him, so early into his career.
While Shaw, their top prospect, will be making the trip, another prospect won’t. Kevin Alcántara will undoubtedly be up at some point this year, however.
Nico Hoerner will stay home, which means Jon Berti or Vidal Bruján will likely get the start at second base.
I’ve never watched a Tokyo game before (for obvious reasons), but I imagine the atmosphere is electric. This could be a special start to a more special Cubs season than we’ve been accustomed to. I’m going to let Pat Hughes bring me into it.
I’m hoping for a Shota gem, a Seiya Suzuki homer, some sparks from Kyle Tucker, and at least a few at-bats from Shaw.
Justin Steele will throw Game 2 on Wednesday.
Baseball season is here. Let’s hope it’s still genuinely with us in Chicago by the time September rolls around.
I’ve tried to be mad at the Bulls for long enough. And I still am. But it’s time to face the facts as the NBA season winds down.
The Bulls, pathetically, are going to be in the play-in tournament for the third straight year.
Since they lost seven in a row after the trade deadline, they are 6-3. What’s it going to get them? Nothing. But sulking will also get me nothing.
The Bulls beat just beat the Magic, Heat, and Pacers in a row — all teams trying (like they unfortunately are) to be playoff teams. They beat the Nets Thursday night, without Giddey, who has an ankle injury, but should be back soon.
They are 5 games up on the 11th seed with just 16 games to play. They are 10 games under .500, and yes, they’ll have a shot at making the postseason.
But I don’t make the playoff seeding and I don’t make the Bulls’ strategic decisions. And therefore, it’s time to give up — and lock in.
The Bulls’ main yield in the Zach LaVine trade was their own pick returning to them for this year, which will again be a middling one.
But the throw-ins have had something to say. Playing for the underrated coach that is Billy Donovan, who turns shit into a palatable meal on a nightly basis, Tre Jones, Kevin Huerter, and Zach Collins have all become contributors.
Jones is averaging 10 points and 4 assists in just 22 minutes per game and has had some spectacular performances. Huerter is averaging 11 points per game and has shot the three ball 5% better with Chicago than he did Sacramento. Collins is averaging 12 points and 9 rebounds per game with the Bulls.
All three have become formidable role players once again over the last month.
As I wrote recently, that should mean the Bulls can trade at least two of them for some worthwhile pieces of capital for the future. Who know what Arturas Karnisovas will ultimately do, but it will likely be the wrong decision.
But I like the gusto of these young men. And I’m starting to like this team, who is winning in spite of their situation — and in spite of the fact that it will ultimately hurt the franchise moving forward. Why would they care?
During the Bulls recent “hot” streak — still 10 games under .500 — Josh Giddey is averaging 22 points and 9 assists. He exploded against the Heat and Pacers, hitting a game-sealing three against the former. He rolled his ankle at the end of the Indiana game.
Coby White, meanwhile, has scored 31, 29, 21, 44, and 25 over his last five.
Those two, along with Matas Buzelis, are basically all that matters. It’s great to see the role players succeed, especially when they play a terrific brand of basketball like Jones (who had 18, 7, and 6 Thursday).
But if there’s anything to draw hope from, it’s White and Giddey finding their way again.
Donovan didn’t play Buzelis much early in the year, much to the chagrin of Bulls fans who don’t understand NBA basketball. Slowly but surely, Donovan has worked him into the lineup. He’s raw, but has also had his 18-point nights of late. He’s talented.
The nucleus is improving, which is all Billy Donovan can control.
The Bulls are in a worse position than almost any team in the NBA. But cognitive dissonance is a powerful tool, and I intend to employ it over the last 16 games.
It’s not the players job to set up the franchise for future success via draft picks. It’s not Billy Donovan’s job to lose.
It’s not my job to do anything.
But I am now stepping forward as a volunteer for my Bulls. With a month left in the regular season, the Bulls are 5 up in the 10 seed and 1.5 back from the 9 seed. Can they catch Miami? We’ll have to see!
Can Jerry and Michael Reinsdorf get another play-in home game? They just may.
LETS GO BULLS!
Thank you for reading another edition of Still Gotta Come Through Chicago. As always, I appreciate it. And as always, I urge you to recommend the newsletter to your friends and family if you enjoy it. Comment below.
Offseason three-peat baby! Going to be fun to see what they do with the draft. Still need depth on both sides of the trenches, but man do we look like a whole new team. I would feel confident rolling out our current squad as is, and to think we add 3 more starter-caliber guys is filling me with optimism.
All time read today. Last week I f'ed around and got a triple double! I have checked when the NFL draft is about 10 times in the last week. Turns out its still end of April.