House of Cards

As a Chicago sports fan, and an ND fan, the sports seasons bring one consistent truth: If there is even a shred of hope...it will be taken from me at some point, generally in a cruel manner, right around the time I really start to think there's a chance. I ask, "Could they really could be that good?" and get my answer. No. And it happens every single year. (You Boston fans used to know what I'm talking about.)

It's a missed pass interference call by the blind ref. Or their QB's fumble that suddenly becomes a TD. Or some stupid kid in a green sweatshirt with earphones on. It doesn't matter who I end up blaming it on...every season, I watch, tense, sick to my stomach, eyes covered, screaming at the TV, knuckles bloody from knocking on wood at the announcers' stupid jinxing comments...and then boom. Crushing disappointment... again...and a throbbing in my head that I'm sure must be a tumor.

So when the Bears were losing to the Cardinals last night, it felt like...well...almost like an old friend. I mean, this is Chicago, and someone said they were "the team to beat." So why wouldn't they play like some third-string practice team from Crapsville Middle School?

But then the Bears started to randomly come back, from freak plays, fumbles, punt returns. And that's when I went into shock. What happened??? It doesn't matter. I don't care. I don't care that they did it by the hairs on their chinny chin chin, it was awesome!

I do feel bad for Matt Leinart, the Cardinals' QB. I mean, he played his little heart out, he had a great game, and I can't imagine how he must feel. Oh...hmmm...wait a second.

Go Bears!