Word: chicago
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...very much at first, but there's nothing I wouldn't do for him now. When he comes up to you and says, 'I guess I had you wrong. I really thought you could do the job,' you like to die. I'm not playing for my family or Chicago...
While emotions in Chicago have been gathering force all season, the elation in Boston and environs qualifies as a flash fever. Only a little more than a month ago, goodness had been confirmed, but greatness was still unsuspected by even the most exuberant of the Patriots' worn and wistful constituency. As recently as last year, this was a fifth-place team behind the Boston Celtics, Red Sox, Bruins and Fluties. At least a modern Super Bowl record must have collapsed when, in contrast to the Chicago lottery, the Patriots were able to accommodate every season-ticket holder (count them...
...Patriots have not ascended to a final championship game since the pre-merger season of 1963, when they lost to San Diego, 51-10. That was the year Chicago last claimed the National Football League championship. Though a lopsided score is conceivable again, the Bears would be wise not to dismiss Patriot Tackle Brian Holloway's contention, "We have some magic." No one could mistake its source: Coach Raymond Berry, 52. Capping his first full season on the job, the legendary Baltimore Colt pass catcher was hoisted jubilantly aboard his players' shoulders and given an extended ride about the stadium...
...players that they were "right on schedule" without making it sound like an insult. None of them, not even the exquisite 13-year guard John Hannah, had ever before heard a coach say that he enjoyed watching them play. The season's first loss was to the Bears in Chicago, 20-7, when the Patriots' offense alighted no longer in Bear territory than it took Runner Craig James to complete a 90-yd. touchdown play. "We were still looking for an offensive identity then," says James, 25, who is seldom identified anymore as Eric Dickerson's running partner at Southern...
...work must move things: A pushes against B, and B moves. What, besides paper, does the columnist move? He wonders that himself. Swiveling in his chair, he catches hummingbirds, bats, butterflies in flutter, pins them to the wall and whispers, "Gotcha." But he doesn't. Today Gaddafi, tomorrow the Chicago Bears. Call this history? Come Thursday, no one will remember how right he was on Tuesday, and the facts may have altered to prove that he was wrong on Tuesday after all, but who will remember that either? Twenty years after his death, maybe ten, how many readers will speak...