If its not the flu, then what is it?

It must be a sickness. Or a disease. Either way I know I am not right in the head. It happens on an annual basis, lasting anywhere from 16 to 20 weeks. It first starts sometime around mid day, usually. But curiously only once a week. Mostly on a Sunday. The symptoms are frustration first, followed by confusion and/or bewilderment, which in turn leads to anger and intolerance, lots of swearing, and finishing with embarrassment. On occasion, though rare, jubilation. And I haven't been to the doctor. You see, my malady is the Chicago Bears.

Oh how I envy the occasional fan, able to watch the game with modest detachment, cheering the highs, ignoring the lows. Even scoffing indifferently at some meaningless early season turnover. This for me is impossible. I can't put the game in context. Hell, I can't even put one play into context. Life itself hangs in the balance of the next snap count. Remember week one this year? A loss to the hated Packers, and worse yet, losing our captain on defense for the whole year. By the end of the game, spit flying from my mouth faster than the cuss words can come out, I had lost my voice. Good thing no gig coming up, not good for a singer to scream until his lungs bleed. The next morning I was in a foul mood. Brows furrowed, with a sneer across my lip, the wife asked what was wrong. 16 years of marriage and she still can't figure out that a loss to the Packers on opening day is like someone taking a red hot Samurai sword and shoving it up my ass. At least she knows enough to be out of the house at kickoff.

So there I sit, in total isolation. I can't go to a friends house to watch the game, I wouldn't be invited back. EVER. My kids can barely stomach being in the same room for even a quarter, knowing that at some point, the lid is going to come off the pot. They won't even have friends over, lest they hear the dad upstairs telling Lovie Smith or Ron Turner what a piece of crap that last call was. As if I don't know they can't hear me. Thanks for that piece of reality. No, no, I am alone in my misery, unable to even enjoy a beautiful comeback like we saw against the Steelers in week 2 because of the general ineptitude of the whole game. Is there something I can take? Does anyone have a Valium?

Now I love the Cubs. And the Bulls. And am gaining new found respect for the Hawks organization. But it is the Bears they drive my motor. It is the part of the year I look forward to the most, and least. If I am out of the house for any part of the game, all I can say is thank God for the DVR. Radio in the car is off just in case some smarmy DJ decides to blare out the score and ruin my day. I have even sat in the stands at one of my kids sports games with my hands over my ears going"...LA,LA,LA...!" to drown out the possibility that someone in the crowd might utter, "Did you see that Hester ran one back today?", at which point I would whip out my Glock and put a bullet between his eyes. Am I sick? Probably. I only wish I knew what to call it. Oops, gotta run, pregame started. Can't miss Waddle, that f*#king idiot.