A few hours later, we were seated in the visitor’s skybox at
Soldier Field watching the Storm take their place on the sidelines as the Bears waited in the home tunnel just out of sight. I felt torn between the underdogs I’d grown to love, and the victors I’d grown up adoring. Gram had begged off the game saying that she didn’t want to watch the two teams she loved compete. I completely understood.
The kickoff gave us a clear indication that this game was going to be a brutal battle for the hearts and minds of Chicago fans. The Bears, determined to assert themselves as the victors early on, began battering the Storm, knocking them hard and celebrating every play. The fans went wild as the Bears held the Storm back from the goal line through the first and second quarters. By the end of the first half, the Storm managed to score two touchdowns and was leading the Bears 14-10.
As the halftime show began, I noticed a small skirmish taking place down near the goal line. Several security guards bounded down the stadium steps as a fight broke out between fans from the opposing teams. This wasn’t unheard of, and in many ways, it was very Bears-like. The Bears represented the rough and tumble way of getting things done, and the Ditka-era had solidified the belief that the Bears were the league team that best represented the working-class values of dedication and hard work. And there was pride and tradition at stake in this game.
As I scanned the stadium, I realized fights were breaking out all over and the security personnel were having to do much more than usual as they rushed to try and break up the skirmishes. I looked over and saw Dax watching intently, too.
“This isn’t good,” I said quietly.
“Nah, it’s just folks blowing off steam and asserting their top dog status,” he assured me. “This kind of stuff goes on all the time where I grew up. I wouldn’t get too worried about it.”
I nodded, but I had the sneaking suspicion he didn’t quite believe what he said. Something else was going on, and as the game headed into the second half, the fans seemed to become more agitated. The teams took the field in a cacophony of sound that mixed cheers and boos, and as the third quarter progressed, the energy in the stands increased. At the beginning of the fourth quarter, the Bears drove hard for the goal line and crossed it, sparking a deafening roar from the fans. The score was now 14-17 with the Bears in the lead.
The Storm offense took the field, and Johnny Riggs gathered the guys in a huddle as he tried to give the play over the noise from the crowd. They hustled into formation and Riggs swung his head from right to left as he shouted the countdown then grabbed the ball from the center and dropped back, looking for an opening. The Bears defense, fortified by the crowd’s noise, ran toward Riggs as a solid line and sacked him. I winced as I saw his head hit the ground as the enormous defensive line piled on top of him. It took a while to remove the bodies, but once they were off, Riggs slowly raised himself up to a sitting position and shook his head. Jamal Williams offered him a hand and pulled him up off the ground, and stood facing the quarterback.
“What’s going on?” Dax asked.
“I’m guessing he’s trying to figure out if Riggs is okay,” I said. Hits like those were hard on a quarterback and with all of the new information about traumatic brain injuries flooding the game, I knew that even the guys who were willing to risk it all were worried about the after-effects of such hits.
“Should they be pulling him?” Dax asked as he stood looking out over the field with a worried expression. “I mean, should I go down and tell Nick to pull him?”
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” I warned.
“Why not? It’s my investment, and I’m responsible for protecting it,” he argued.
“Yeah, but they’re Nick’s players and he will not appreciate you interfering,” I said, knowing that there was no way I could stop Dax if he chose to intervene. “Just wait and see what happens.”
“This game is so fucked up,” he said, turning away from the window.
“No more so than any other,” I said. “Besides, they know what they’re getting into, and they’ve got a right to make the choice for themselves.”
“You think brain injuries are a choice that players should have to make?” he asked with a shocked look on his face.
“No, I’m just saying it’s part of the game, and players accept the risks,” I replied.
A sudden increase in the noise coming from the crowd drew our attention and we watched as Riggs walked off the field accompanied by the team trainers and two players. Dax turned toward me, and I said, “You’re getting your wish.”
“Whose going in for him?” he asked.
“Jesus, you really don’t care about this team, do you?” I spat.
“Don’t get mad at me,” he growled. “I told you this team was just an investment, not some kind of childhood fantasy.”
“But you’re worried about the players’ health,” I protested.
“Only because it affects my bottom line,” he replied coolly.
“You’re an asshole,” I shot back.
“And you’re overly emotional about a game,” he said as I stopped talking and seethed quietly. Whatever connection there had been between us was perilously close to being cut as I listened to his cold assessment of the men who played the game I loved.
We spent the rest of the fourth quarter silently watching the Bears take control of the field and drive to the goal again. When they couldn’t quite reach the end zone, they aimed for a field goal and upped their lead to 14-20. Nick sent the offense led by Martin Gaddis, the second-string quarterback, and the Bears fans booed loudly as they were denied the chance to watch Riggs be vanquished once and for all. Gaddis did his best to connect passes with the receivers, but the Bears defensive line was in control and the Storm had to punt the ball away. The Bears ran down the clock on their final possession and as time ran out, Bears fans erupted in a celebration while the Storm fans headed for the exits.
I looked over at Dax who was on the phone with the head of security, arranging an escort to get us to our car.
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” I asked rolling my eyes.