I Wanna Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiil, On Sugar Hill

Sam Hurd illustrates the comfort of a drug pusher whose livelihood is not dependent upon pushing drugs.

One of my favorite hip-hop songs is "Sugar Hill" by AZ. The protagonist of the song, presumably AZ himself, is a small-time drug dealer dreaming of a better life -- from being surrounded by ladies "of all races with dime faces" to living in a villa in Costa Rica. The symbolism is clear. While the "Sugar Hill" is an imaginary utopia where AZ can experience the finer things in life, it is literally a mountain of cocaine. Chilling on "Sugar Hill" is living the good life as a result of illegal activity. This attitude is usually deemed contemptible by most people, but public opinion sometimes shifts after considering the circumstances. In this song, AZ describes drug dealing as a means to an end rather than an end in itself -- hardly a unique sentiment. His involvement in the drug game was out of necessity, feeling he had no other option to realize his lofty and mostly superficial dreams. His goal is to make money and get the hell out. Even the staunchest opponents of drugs and drug pushing can sympathize with the idea of a down-and-out young man -- no matter how misguided -- doing something dangerous and illegal to try and reverse his luck.

Which is why the news of Sam Hurd's arrest is so damn fascinating/surprising. Sam Hurd lives comfortably in Lake Forest with his wife and daughter. Sam Hurd just signed a three year contract for up to 5 million dollars to play mostly special teams and contribute jack shit on offense. Sam Hurd attends parties sponsored by Grey Goose. I think everyone's initial reactions was: WHY? YOU'RE ALREADY FUCKING RICH. Speculation for his motives were ranging; greed, selfishness, and stupidity seemed to be the most popular. Maybe Hurd wasn't content with a measly NFL salary. Maybe he wanted to be more than a piddling NFL special teams player. Maybe he was stupid enough to think he wouldn't get caught even after a tipster linked an acquaintance of his to a cocaine negotiation in Dallas this summer. I'd venture to guess his motives were complicated and cannot be boiled down to a singular explanation. We will probably never know. All we know is that Hurd does not fit the archetypal drug-dealing character that AZ and many others have created.

So think of this as the last story to complete the implosion of the 2011 Chicago Bears. First Cutler's thumb, then Forte's MCL, and now Sam Hurd's Pusha T impression. Nice and quick and detonated by Tim Tebow, I guess. This story isn't over, of course. Should any of the reported "double digit" number of NFL players who purchased drugs from Hurd turn out to be Chicago Bears -- well -- the team is fucked. Lovie will be fired, players will be suspended, and Hurd will occupy a jail cell regardless. Wasn't it only a month ago it seemed like if an unheralded ragamuffin team were to upset the infallible Aaron Rodgers in the second round of the playoffs, the Bears would sneak into the Super Bowl? That feeling seems like ages ago, even in marijuana minutes.

Sugar Hill. Shiny and towering and powerful from afar. Nice to chill on top of for a while. Its weak foundation is easily concealed by its beauty. I have to believe Sam Hurd knew all of this. I'm still wondering why he built it.            

The Mystery Surrounding The Chicago Bears Cheerleaders

There's a few things synonymous with Chicago Bears football. Great defense, cold winter afternoons, tailgating, and beer, lots of beer. Take a trip to Soldier Field and you'll find crowds upon crowds of already rowdy fans, some who have been there for an upwards of five hours, waiting for the gates to open.
Inside the stadium you'll find the usual. Overpriced hot dogs, beer, a kind of jumbo JumboTron, more beer, and a few shirtless guys oblivious to the fact it's negative ten degrees outside.
Something is missing. It's not that big of a deal. In fact, if you're focused solely on the football, as you should be, you won't even notice that anything is out of the ordinary. Just imagine, it's the middle of the second quarter and the Bears have just completed their fourth straight three and out. It would be nice to have something to look at, particularly scantily clad women, right? At least until the defense gets back on the field.
That's where the cheerleading squad comes in. Well, at least for 26 of the NFL teams. The Bears are one of only six football teams that don't have a cheerleading squad. The others: the Cleveland Browns, Detroit Lions, Green Bay Packers (although the Packers do have cheerleaders from local colleges cheer at some games), New York Giants, and Pittsburgh Steelers.
Possible links between those teams? Passionate, blue collar fan bases that support their teams through thick and thin. I get the feeling that any of these six teams could play in a run down high school field in the middle of nowhere and still draw large crowds that could care less about the extracurricular activities surrounding the game.
These are also some very cold cities. And with the exception of the Lions, who moved into indoor Ford Field in 2002, they all play outside. Cold weather and cheerleaders don't mix.
The Bears actually did have cheerleaders, called "The Honey Bears," from 1976-1985. After the 1985 Super Bowl year, their contract was not renewed.
Being the forward thinker he was, then owner George Halas decided in 1976 that he wanted professional cheerleaders, or as he called them, "dancing girls." You gotta love the 70s, dancing girls has a whole different connotation nowadays.
Halas put General Manager Greg Finks in charge of assembling a squad. Through church connections, Finks found and hired Honey Bears' choreographer Cathy Core, whose only cheerleading experience at the time consisted of teaching Junior High girls.
Core eventually narrowed her first squad down to 20 girls after receiving hundreds of applications. This was not a full time career as many cheerleading jobs are now. Each cheerleader received 15 dollars a game, which was said to pay for gas, parking, and uniform cleaning.
Halas passed away in 1983 and the idea of the Honey Bears died with him. Despite their immense popularity amongst Bears fans, the Honey Bears were not renewed after the 1985 season.
While no official explanation was ever given, it's believed that the new Bears management wanted to distance themselves from anything that took away from the franchise's strong and intimidating image. This may sound ridiculous, put perhaps this strategy has some validity. Take the Cowboys organization for instance, who take a great amount of pride in their cheerleaders. The Cowboys are one of the softest teams in the NFL, mentally and physically.
While the Super Bowl Shuffle isn't exactly dripping with masculinity, the product on the field sure did.




For now, the Honey Bears will have to be content dwelling somewhere in our collective Bears memory. Nuzzled alongside #33 Calvin Thomas' saxophone solo.
For the full story on the Honey Bears, pick up Roy Taylor's book entitled Chicago Bears History. Thanks also to Football Babble.