Rebirth

August is traditionally a month for reflection, a time for looking back at a year that’s just past its apex and taking stock of all those spring flowerings and the wild flings of summer before readying yourself for the sobering duties of fall. For some, these memories are tinged with a pleasant wistfulness, maybe even a hint of regret that we can’t extend this glorious idleness forever and spend the next few months watching championship caliper football. 

There is no doubt that August is a month, traditional or otherwise.  There is some doubt that the Bears of Chicago are capable of playing championship caliber football.  The week one preseason game versus the no-huddle Buffalo Bills is proof that much work is yet to be done.  On the other hand, it's hard as tacks to tackle a Buffalo*, so our defense deserves a slight pass. 

The point is, if championship football cannot be guaranteed on the field, championship level party making certainly can be.  It's offered to one and all only a couple thousand feet south of the very field that is so impossibly ungauranteeable.

After 7 long months in slumber, Speedy Willie is born anew.  Gone is the dusty afterbirth of warehouse dust, and gone are the slowly deflating Goodyear radials, and gone is the persistent doubt the cast a looming shadow on every trip to the Autozone and Napa Auto Parts outlet. 

This August rebirth brings with it opportunity for greatness (or, at least goodness.)  And with that opportunity we must ask our selves:  Do we stand for goodness, or do we stand for badness?  Or greatness?  O.k., this paragraph has gone off the rails a bit, was that last sentence from Caddyshack?  It was almost like I was writing a poem there for a while, and then the phone rang, and I lost concentration...  Damn. 

To close out this first posting of the 2009 Chicago Bears Wild Card winning season, remember that when the sun bursts from the horizon and sets flame to the morning sky, the sun is the Bears, and the sky is the NFC North, and the horizon is opportunity.  And in another, similarly convoluted way, the sun is Speedy Willie, and the we are the sky, and the horizon is... oh, forget it. 

*Did you know... That's why Buffalo wings are so small?  If they let those damn beasts get any bigger, there'd be no holding 'em down to chop off the wings.