Fan Voices: Chicago doesn’t talk destiny, but this Bears season has us playing along

“Send this to Ben Johnson,” my 2.5-year-old says very seriously. He’s standing on the couch in his Pull-Ups and Caleb Williams jersey, about to launch into a rendition of Johnson’s now-famed Good, Better, Best chant, missing a word here and there in his toddler cadence, but fully committed nonetheless. Rinse and repeat all fall. 

It started in the locker room after a Week 3 win against the Cowboys. Johnson’s voice was hoarse, leading the Bears through a chant that somehow felt both ridiculous and perfect at the same time. It’s become a ritual in our house. And honestly, in the city.

My toddler doesn’t know about the Super Bowl drought, about Rex Grossman or the Double Doink. He certainly doesn’t know about the Super Bowl Shuffle, a VHS staple. And yet, he’s the most obvious example of how Chicago feels right now. That innocence mirrors a city rediscovering joy, even when you know how this usually ends. 

Why this Chicago Bears season feels different

The energy is palpable across the city, and sports feel alive here the moment they leave the stadium. Bears flags hang from Chicago bungalows and three-flats. Billboards have swapped Urlacher hair-growth ads for Bears-Packers final scores. Bill Murray is singing Bear Down at Thalia Hall. The Wiener’s Circle is shading a new opponent every week and handing out free hot dogs, a viral moment every time. Johnson playing along (shirtless, postgame) didn’t feel like a bit. It felt authentic. And if there’s one thing about this city, it’s that people can smell phoniness a mile away.

There’s also this running debate in my head, only half-joke, about what actually kicked all of this off. Was it January, when Ben Johnson took the job and immediately said he loved beating Matt LaFleur twice a year? Was it April, at the NFL Draft, when Clay Matthews pulled out an apparent note from Donald Trump that read “The Bears still suck.” Weird. Or was it May, when white smoke rose from the Vatican and the first American pope was elected – from the South Side of Chicago, raised just a few miles from where I grew up?

Chicago doesn’t actually think it’s destiny. But we’re letting ourselves play along. Because how else do you explain this year?

Caleb Williams’ fourth-quarter heroics changed everything

These fourth quarters. They make belief feel reasonable every Sunday. Williams has piled up the kind of numbers that give you hope. Nearly 4,000 passing yards, a touchdown total that keeps climbing, and some of the best late-game efficiency in the league. But it’s the situational stuff that matters more here. How many times have you watched that fourth-and-8 completion to Rome Odunze? Drifting to his left, Jumpman moment, 23-yard pass. At first glance, it looked like a heaved-up Hail Mary. The second look though, it was a dart Williams couldn’t have been more precise with. One of the greatest throws in Bears history.

That throw wasn’t an outlier though. Williams finished the regular season among the league leaders in fourth-quarter efficiency, with seven fourth-quarter comebacks this season. He was top five in passer rating on third downs, with a completion rate that actually improved under pressure. Some people would say the Bears survived close games — I was potentially one of them early in the season — but hindsight: Williams controlled them when it mattered most with clock-draining drives and a calm demeanor as the game gets tight. We were never out of it. 

Chicago fans don’t actually believe the universe is intervening on our behalf. It’s talent. It’s being able to say we’ve drafted smart (that’s a new one), it’s chemistry across the board. But we do believe in moments piling up until belief sneaks in. Don’t lie, we’re all looking around, shrugging, maybe laughing, and saying, sure, why not?

Why this works in January

There’s not a single person I’ve talked to outside of the Chicagoland area who believes we can win Sunday against the Rams, a team whose offense led the league in points scored, yards gained and first downs. 

But the Bears win this game the same way they’ve won all year: by stealing a possession, knowing Williams is calm, collected and talented enough, and then letting a cold, windy Soldier Field do the rest. They led the NFL in takeaways with a league-best turnover differential (the Rams’ special teams on the other hand have cost them a few wins this season), protected the ball better than anyone, and when things get cold, loud and weird late, the Bears have shown how to lean into the moment. There’s not a single worry on the sidelines. 

Resetting expectations for Bears fans

Coming into the season, I have a feeling we’d all agree that putting together a competent, competitive team would’ve felt like enough. Doubling our win total? Great. Making the playoffs as NFC North champions and 2-seed in Ben Johnson’s first year? Outstanding. Beating the Packers in the Wild Card round? That crossed into something else entirely. 

But even if those weren’t expectations, there’s this idea up north that Chicago is a long-suffering little brother, desperate for validation. A blue-collar town with thick jackets and thicker skin, I can’t imagine anything further from what we believe. We haven’t won a Super Bowl in 40 years, yes. Rex Grossman (and Kyle Orton) took us to one nearly 20 years ago. And yet Soldier Field is packed every weekend. The South Lot is full of smoke from grills in 20-degree weather. People are drinking Malört, flying Bears flags and showing up anyway. There’s endurance and self-confidence here, even if we’re self-deprecating along the way. And here’s the kicker: We don’t live in Wisconsin. 

This team feels like Chicago

This version of the Bears feels built for this year. D’Andre Swift grinding out yards. Kyle Monangai earning every carry. Rookies like Luther Burden and Colston Loveland stepping into real roles. Tremaine Edmonds and Larenz Tate building out a rallying cry. And at the center of it all is a quarterback who keeps delivering in clutch moments, icy, with a smirk on his face. Haters far from his mind.

Maybe this is a team with a bit of magic, destiny and a pope on our side. Maybe it isn’t. We could go to the Super Bowl. Or not. We could win this weekend in 20-degree weather while Matthew Stafford’s finger throbs in the cold. Or not. That uncertainty doesn’t scare Chicago fans away. It’s what we understand to be true. 

So my kid’s going to keep climbing up on the couch, keep wearing his No. 18 jersey to school, keep making sure Bear Down is the top-played song on my Spotify Wrapped. And maybe it’ll keep working. Maybe not. Whatever sparked this version of the Bears — white smoke coming from the Vatican, locker-room chants, fourth-quarter calm or a toddler yelling in a living room — Chicago’s here for it. No promises, but it would be nice.