Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Against the Bears - September 20, 2009

Hmmm. Irritating loss to what looked to be a weaker team coming in. General media consensus will point to the obvious theories: wet, slippery players' fingers and of course, Reed's missed field goals. It IS ironic that we were buoyed by Reed's two successful field goals in last week's game, only to lose by Reed's toe this week. But I feel Skippy can be excused for having a rare bad performance when there were other bad puppy slipups to be newspapered in this frustrating outing. There were silly defensive penalties to go round (Harrison's roughing the passer penalty and Timmons' defensive holding penalties for one and two, which allowed Chicago's first go ahead score...), dropped passes by our receivers in the second half (Did Holmes ever speak directly and responsibly to that "tipped pass"?), and of course, our old foe, the ever inconsistent running game. Ben and Co. started out efficiently, showing flashes of brilliance in the first drive. Parker broke a few when the defense overpursued. Miller remained his steadfast, battering ram self. But how is it that we then sputtered throughout the rest of the game against a vulnerable, Urlacher-less defense? Whereas the Bears upped the blitzes and adjusted, we seemed to wince. And I am already quickly tiring of the "absence of Polamalu" chatter. Clearly our D is going through a process of reorganization internally, like it or not. But ultimately note that this was not a high scoring game on either side and the Bears were held in check on the scoreboard. I would raise a wary eyebrow more to the fact that we could remain a one dimensional offense this season if we fail to put those points on the board in later quarters. A win which slipped easily through our fingers and a failure to pad our numbers in the early season? I give you Happy to his golf ball a la Happy Gilmore: "You little son of a bitch ball! Why don't you just go HOME? That's your HOME! Are you too good for your HOME?? ANSWER ME! SUCK MY WHITE ASS, BALL!"

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