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It’s quiet over at Halas Hall. Very quiet.

Michael McCaskey, president and chief executive officer of the Bears, has been in and out, you are told. But he is unavailable, you are also told.

And Ted Phillips, the vice president of operations, is available, but only via the fax machine.

“We were disappointed,” begins his brief statement about the Planet Park project in Northwest Indiana that apparently will rest in peace as conceived, with a blueprint.

“This will not hinder our quest for a new stadium,” the message concludes, “as we continue to work diligently to secure a new home for the Bears in the Chicagoland area.”

But, what if? What if that other concept, the one for the domed facility near McCormick Place, doesn’t get past the talking stage either?

And what if the Bears stick to their belief that Soldier Field is not viable, even if Mayor Daley’s proposed $171 million renovation plan is the only option remaining at this late date, or at even later dates?

What if? What then?

“Sorry,” you are told, “Mr. McCaskey has no comment.”

It’s quiet over at Halas Hall. Very quiet. Almost as quiet as it was in Cleveland during late October. Oh, there was noise, and lots of it, around Jacobs Field, where the Indians were engaged in their first World Series since 1954.

The atmosphere felt much the same as it does now in Chicago, where the Bulls and their fabulous record are all that seem to matter. The Bulls are chasing their fourth NBA championship with Superman, Batman and Rodman, and everything else is on hold.

Just as it was on hold in Cleveland, until about a week after the World Series. That’s when Art Modell, the little squirrel who owns the Browns, said it’s all over. We’re moving to Baltimore. Thanks for the memories. It has been a nice 35 years.

This is same Art Modell who told the editorial board of Cleveland’s big newspaper, The Plain Dealer, that he would never leave. But, if he signed the deal to go to Baltimore during the World Series, when did negotiations begin? July? August?

And yet, there was not a peep. Not a threat, not a rumor attributed to a reliable source. It was so quiet in Cleveland, until boom, Modell showed up on TV with all his new friends in Maryland. And though voters resoundingly passed a $175 million “sin tax” to refurbish Cleveland’s Municipal Stadium–which is all Modell ever said he wanted for his Browns–it was still too late.

Baltimore, believe it or not–and the people of Cleveland still can’t. Except, it’s true. And let the lawsuits fall where they may.

Last week, Commissioner Paul Tagliabue said the NFL will not abandon the fans of Cleveland. He also said his league intends to keep franchises in place. But on this issue, the NFL is not governable. They’re still rearranging furniture in the hotel ballroom where Tagliabue spoke, and the Seattle Seahawks are off to Los Angeles.

Mind you, nobody, but nobody, even with the loosest grip on the Bears’ situation believes this worst-case scenario could occur in Chicago. The Bears belong here. But that’s what we think, and what we think doesn’t matter anymore.

What if? What if Michael McCaskey goes to his mother, Virginia McCaskey, and says there is no alternative? She did not want to answer that question a couple of months ago. But, would there be a day?

“Possibly,” she said. “Probably.”

And, lest we table this matter because the specter of the Bears leaving Chicago isn’t worth our time, remember the words of Cleveland Mayor Michael White.

“If this can happen in Cleveland,” he said, “there is no safe franchise in America.”

It’s quiet over at Halas Hall. Very quiet.