Dear Diary,
It can be so, so, so damn hard, y’know? Just when you think you’re getting better, making significant progress towards becoming a legitimate team with playoff aspirations, you get slapped square in the blistering cheek and open another wound.
Last week, when the Bears lost to the Packers, it felt acceptable because it was familiar territory. We lost to a better team, but at least we put up a fight. In yesterday’s loss to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and Tom Brady, there was no fight. There was only harassment and distress.
The Bears weren’t just beaten, they were manhandled. It was as if a high school team had hijacked their uniforms and posed as members of the blue and orange. They just seemed slower everywhere on the field — from offense to defense, to special teams. We couldn’t keep up with their mind games. It was a classic case of chess versus checkers, which makes sense considering their quarterback has been dominating the league for as long as ours has been alive.
But that blowout was to be anticipated. Fields was going against one of the best front sevens in football, with one of the worst offensive lines in football ahead of him.
If he’d had any time to throw, I trust that he would’ve had a much better Sunday considering the Bucs’ secondary was so banged up. It also didn’t help that Cole Kmet and Darnell Mooney both dropped on-target passes. They missed layups, if you will. What I’m trying to say is, the majority of negatives yesterday weren’t Justin Fields’s fault. Some of them were, sure. But he has no time to breathe in the pocket, a below-average supporting cast of skill players with David Montgomery still sidelined, and a coaching staff that has no idea how to utilize his talents. It’s been a bumpy ride through the first seven weeks of the season, but my hope isn’t dead yet. Our next two games are against the 49ers and Steelers, two teams stumbling for playoff position much like us, then we have the Ravens, Lions, Cards, Packers again, Vikings, Seahawks, Giants, and Vikes. I see seven more winnable games on that schedule. My hope is still very much alive, but it’s hard to say that aloud after an ass whipping like yesterday.
Sincerely,
One of Tom Brady’s Many, Many Sons
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