Now that’s what I call a vote of confidence, a turn-of-the-century contract extension for Dave Wannstedt, present and future coach of the Bears, who has–you can look it up–won a playoff game.
I say, way to go, Michael McCaskey. Way to stand up for the ordinary coach, for the imperfect judge of talent, for the hung jury.
“Just the kind of head coach we need,” McCaskey said.
Everybody wants Jimmy Johnson or the next Bill Walsh. You’ve let the world know that Chicago is above those kinds of selfish obsessions.
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Chicago will take a decent man who tries his darndest to do a good job and will never put himself above the franchise.
“It’s not about years, it’s not about money, it’s about commitment,” Wannstedt said. “It’s about getting to the Super Bowl.”
“And we’re headed in that direction very strongly,” McCaskey said.
Not many votes are generally cast in favor of self-delusion.
Results? Who needs them? It’s the commitment that counts.
Michael McCaskey, you are a realist. You know genius is the exception, accomplishment overrated. No reason to go crazy trying to get your share. It’s easier to hang on to the craft you know than scheme for the art you may never find.
This sort of thing does not happen often enough in sports, rewarding the merely tolerable. It’s all win, win, win or hit the road.
What about trying, huh? And caring? What about–and you can look it up–beating Green Bay once every other year?
Michael McCaskey, you have given Wannstedt permission to begin again, like an architect who lost his blueprints, like a runner with a false start, like Tonya Harding with a broken shoestring. If you were running the Masters, Greg Norman would have gotten as many mulligans as he needed, I bet.
How generous to act as if the first three years never happened, and in fact, they did not in any important way.
The Bears weren’t going to beat the Cowboys anyhow, and certainly not the 49ers. The Bears had a chance to do that in the playoffs and couldn’t. So they lost by four touchdowns; Wannstedt has not put the Bears in that kind of embarrassing situation since.
“I feel positive about the pieces,” Wannstedt said. “I feel good about where we are headed.”
What other owner is willing to pay in advance for a coach’s feelings? A coach two games above .500 would not seem to be in so great a demand that his present employer would fret over losing him. A coach two games above .500 is checking his in-box every day in dread of finding off-color correspondence, like a pink slip. But you just never know.
You have given your coach peace of mind. Other owners might keep a coach on edge, make him think this is a make-or-break season, assume that job tension will sharpen his senses, you know, like you did with Mike Ditka. Now Wannstedt can renegotiate his mortgage, put down some wine, plant a tree.
This season does not matter. If it’s 9-7, 7-9, same thing. The calendar doesn’t count until it begins with the number 2, and the Super Bowl doesn’t apply until it ends in the letter V.
Mike McCaskey, you are a man of courage. You are brave enough to disagree with your constituents, to insist that beating Green Bay is overrated, to argue that the playoffs are a goal and not a job condition.
You are a pioneer thinker, taking the original position that winning half as many games as are lost in December–you can look it up–not only doesn’t disgrace a coaching resume but is worth a nice raise as well.
All those wobbly drafts under Wannstedt do need nurturing, and what you’ve done is give this year’s No. 1 choice, Walt Harris, a chance to make a difference before Wannstedt’s contract ends.
Sleep well.