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.            

It's Never Just Hair Loss

Matt Forte in 2008.

Matt Forte in 2009.

Matt Forte in 2010.

Matt Forte in 2011.

Sweet mother of God! That hairline -- it's -- it's -- pushed back a full inch. A receding hairline comes with age and stress. Stress. Forte was planning a wedding and how to tell his fiance he knocked up his ex-girlfriend when this picture was taken. This was also only a few months removed from the loss to the Packers in the NFC championship game. Stressful things indeed, but let's be honest with ourselves. Forte's hair loss is the result of his contract situation. Everything relates back to his contract because we want to believe there's some justice and distinction in a sport where there is none. It's also less painful to discuss someone else's salary than our own. Alas, Forte showed up to camp looking like Taj Gibson's brother.

   

And cannot be interviewed without a hat for the rest of his life.

When will the madness end? You say Forte shaved his head to conceal his hair loss. I say shaving one's head is an act symbolic of the pain and loss one is feeling. Forte's grown the contract-squabble-beard perfected by Darrelle Revis. Remember when he rejoined his teammates for the taping of Hard Knocks? Dude looked like he hadn't seen bright light in 18 days. Dude most definitely hadn't groomed for at least a month. It was depressing and I wonder if Forte is suffering the same silent anguish. He's almost certainly dipped into the junk food. Once he discovers the delicious combination of pepperoni pizza topped with chocolate syrup and sandwiched in between two Krispy Kreme donuts, those jump cuts aren't going to embarrass defenders anymore.

So as you try to convince your sensible friends Forte deserves a shitload of guaranteed money, don't reference his statistics or big plays. Running backs typically break down after five years -- the ones lucky enough to last that long. Cite the visible damage to his appearance and the inevitable damage to his psyche. These are sane, persuasive arguments. Or just run around in circles, bang your head repeatedly against the wall while chanting "Pay Forte." Your friends will probably say "Fuck it," and agree with you.    

For The Next Eight Hours...

[Setting: Airplane flight to London. Chicago Bears players take their seats and settle in. CHRIS HARRIS watches Big Momma's House 2 and engages his Twitter followers in lengthy discussions involving but not limited to institutional racism, ancient Chinese farming techniques, and lemon meringue pie. TIM JENNINGS holds in his hand a Just Wright movie poster. He has photoshopped his face on to Common's body. DEVIN HESTER watches a YouTube compilation of his record-setting TD returns. MATT FORTE quietly listens to his iPod, while LANCE BRIGGS begs him to share one of the buds. JULIUS PEPPERS has had enough of this shit and just wants to hit someone. ROBBIE GOULD and ADAM PODLESH take turns reading chapters of The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers. BRIAN URLACHER reaches into his carry-on bag and pulls out a container of Edge Advanced shaving cream and a cheap razor. He asks a stewardess where he can find a damn mirror around here. JAY CUTLER reclines his seat and still manages to slump over. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world right now.


JAY CUTLER: I'm so excited for this trip, guys. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world right now.

CHRIS HARRIS: Me too! I've never been to Europe before.

DEVIN HESTER: Europe? I thought we were going to London.

MATT FORTE: [slaps hat off of Hester's head] You deserve one of those everyday for the rest of your life.

LANCE BRIGGS: [Laughs uncontrollably] Good one, Matt. Good one. We -- uh, you got him.

ADAM PODLESH: I don't know about you guys, but I'm really looking forward to seeing the Churchill War Rooms. I'm a bit of a history buff, and that Winston Churchill, oh boy, could he rally the troops.

BRIAN URLACHER: [pointing at PODLESH] Who the fuck is this guy?

ROBBIE GOULD: That's Adam Podlesh, captain. He's our punter. We use him quite often.

BRIAN URLACHER: What happened to the old, bald guy? Brett. I liked him.

ROBBIE GOULD: Brad Maynard. His name was BRAD. You played with him for the last ten years. Jesus.

BRIAN URLACHER: [looking at PODLESH] This dome aint' gonna shave itself, rook.

TIM JENNINGS: [still staring at photoshopped picture of himself and Queen Latifah] Do you guys ever feel like all your hopes and dreams are just out of reach? Like, you just picked off a pass right, and you're running for the end zone, and it keeps getting farther and farther away. You keep running and you're getting nowhere. That's how I feel. I just want to be loved.

JAY CUTLER: Enough with the soft shit. I have some of the finest English trim lined up for us as soon as we step off this plane. You know what they call them across the pond? Birds, that's what they call them. Although I'm not sure if it's as derogatory of a term as whore. Bird sounds kind of nice when you think about it.

DEVIN HESTER: What's the Londish word for "whore?" Miss me with this talk of birds.

JULIUS PEPPERS: [slaps Hester across the face] Listen fuck boy, I better not see you running backwards once in this game. I know some real English goons who've snatched semi-famous rapper's chains and lit garbage cans on fire. They damn sure will have no qualms disposing of you.

JAY CUTLER: We're getting away from the real issue here, which is what to do with all these whores. By my count, I have 16 of them and they're not the best-looking. They're English 10s, which is like an American 5. What I'm saying is, my women, like my interceptions, come in threes. So there's 13 between the 9 of you. Cock slap, sword fight, pussy pinch, whatever you gotta do to get your fill.

LANCE BRIGGS: It's OK, me and Matt can share one, can't we, Matt?

MATT FORTE: [glares at BRIGGS and says nothing]

CHRIS HARRIS: I'm happily married, thank you. But I'd be more than happy to argue about the artistic merits of the Wellington Arch.

ADAM PODLESH: Ooooh, now we're cooking.

MATT FORTE: You guys bore me, I'm going to get up, nut punch the pilot, and fly this plane. I do everything else around here.

LANCE BRIGGS: You sure do. I sympathize with your contract situation. I sympathize with my contract situation. It would be nice to get some respect in the form of money around here. I guess, like Tim, we just want to be loved.

MATT FORTE: Keep my name out your mouth, mother fucker. There is no we. We is not a thing. Our situations are not the same.

BRIAN URLACHER: I went to bat for you dumb ass, Briggs. I offered to take a pay cut years ago. All I hear about is how many Pro Bowls you've made.

LANCE BRIGGS: I've made 6 Pro Bowls.

DEVIN HESTER: Hey tho, ain't London that place where they talkin' funny? [Laughs] Cheerio, and shit.

TIM JENNINGS: [punches Hester in the mouth] Everyday I find myself thinking about sliding between those tree trunk thighs, slowly messaging my Queen's temples as she hums "Poetry Man."

ROBBIE GOULD: I SO love her rendition!

JAY CUTLER: [Laughing] Our boy Jennings over here has his tip tingling over a big pork chop dike.

TIM JENNINGS: What did you call her?

ROBBIE GOULD: A lesbian, Tim. She's fond of women.

[TIM JENNINGS jets towards the bathroom, sobbing uncontrollably.]


JAY CUTLER: Hey, wait, don't feel bad. It's happened to all of us. I slept with a beautiful Taiwanese boy at Vandy three times before I realized he was a she. Fuck it. I regret nothing.

ADAM PODLESH: Did you guys know... [pauses] that "Big Ben" as most people think, is not actually the clock tower, but the bell within the clock tower.

JULIUS PEPPERS: I would love to visit.

[Everyone stops and stares at Peppers]


JULIUS PEPPERS: What!? I happen to be a clock connoisseur. My grandfather ignited a passion in me which I didn't know I had. I carry his Swiss pocket watch with me to this day.

DEVIN HESTER: Hold up, Ben Russeyberger has a London clock named after him?

[Urlacher grabs Hester by the head and repeatedly smashes it against the window. Hester falls over, bleeding and unconscious]

BRIAN URLACHER: [While administering the beating] I hear they're ten years behind the American trends in England. This tribal tat should have 'em dropping panties in the club, just like it did for Paris Hilton.

[The players fall asleep for the remaining four hours. Devin Hester may or may not be dead. They awake to a landed plane]


TIM JENNINGS: [Opens door to find thousands of screaming Bears fans in England] They love us! They really love us!

MATT FORTE: I'm hope they're not expecting too much, like a win, for instance.

JAY CUTLER: All I know is, we're gonna give 'em a good show. None of this faggity shit they call football over here. Let's go, men. TRIM, on three.

The One-Man Cover Band, Tips Not Included

Matt Forte carried the literal and figurative load on Sunday. He caught 53 percent of Chicago's completed passes, ran for 80 percent of their carries, and accounted for a staggering 67 percent of the Bears' total offense. Forte also cooked pancakes in the morning, delivered personalized wake-up calls to his 52 teammates and drove the team bus to the Superdome. He was planning on returning kicks, but Devin Hester is so damn stubborn (and conscious of the record-book). 

There's nothing left for Forte but to get paid. NFL football is a business, as we're told, and one of the most brutal. For every 30-million dollar guaranteed contract there are hundreds of over-performing players working for, let's suspend basic human judgement and call them "pennies." The risk of career ending injury is higher than any other major American sport by a wide margin. Contracts are not guaranteed and the average running back lasts 2.57 years in the league. Management wants the best value (i.e. cheap labor) and players want long-term security. 

Watching Forte on Sunday, I couldn't help but feel like he was being run into the ground. It was not Martz's intention to run 70 percent of the offense through one player, it just happened to work out that way. Each carry, each reception, and especially each hit takes its toll. Thousands of potential running backs are waiting in the wings. The sad reality of an NFL player, especially a running back, is that the second he earns a starting job, his team is scouring the scene for his potential replacement -- better sooner than later. Forte shoulders the offensive load, and a whole lot more than that.

In order to bring a little light to his contract situation, Forte had a talk with Bulls back-up power forward Taj Gibson -- another young player whose production and compensation don't match. Joakim Noah makes a special guest appearance.    

"Sup, Taj?"

"Uh, do I know you?"

"It's me, Matt. Matt Forte. Chicago Bears running back."

"I see you went ahead and shaved your head there."

"Yeah. You like it?"

"Hmm, how do I...We look kind of alike, bro."

"I know! I modeled my new look after you. Your dunk over D. Wade in the Playoffs -- Nothing short of inspirational."

"This was kind of my thing."

"Did somebody say THING?!?!"

"Wait...Ya'll some twins. Hehehe."

"Leave him alone, Joakim. He's going through a really rough time right now. The Bears front office won't renegotiate his contract. He's only making 600 grand this year."

"600?!?! Get the fuck outta here. Should I tell him what Booz made last year?"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

"Even Scal made over a mil. I have to tell him that."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO. THAT'S EVEN WORSE."

"Man, between the guaranteed contracts, lack of serious head trauma, and the ability to walk after our career is over, we make out pretty good."

"What are you guys saying over there?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Nothing. Nothing at all. I like the new look, by the way."

"Alright, well I gotta run. Martz is designing 1200 new plays for Green Bay and I'm the number one option in all of them." 

Todd Collins Or Tom Collins?

If you're like me you cringed a little bit when you saw Jay Cutler was going to be held out of Sunday's game for precautionary reasons after suffering a concussion. I spent all of last year bashing Cutler, and while I haven't got my fill just yet, I wish he was starting against the Panthers.
It's one of those situations where I didn't realize what I had until it was gone. Sure, Cutler made some stupid decisions, but he was also competent in some areas. Like throwing the ball beyond 20 yards, and avoiding almost constant pressure.
Back up Todd Collins, this Sunday's starter, appears less than competent in both areas. It's funny reading about Collins. His crowning NFL achievement was leading the 2007 Redskins to three straight victories at the end up the season after stepping in for the injured Jason Campbell.
Jay Cutler equalled the 15 year veteran's greatest professional accomplishment in the first three weeks of this season.
So who is Todd Collins, and how can he help us win this game? Truthfully, I don't know. The only thing I can think of when I hear his name is a Tom Collins. I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. Come to think of it, the 2010 Bears are a lot like a Tom Collins.

The Tom Collins alcoholic beverage is made with:
2 oz. gin
1 oz. lemon juice
1 tsp superfine sugar
3 oz. club soda
1 maraschino cherry
1 slice orange
GIN - Todd Collins is clearly the gin of this team. He's a necessary component of the team. Every team needs a quarterback, right? But if you could avoid him you would. Kind of like how you would never drink gin straight. At least I hope you wouldn't.
LEMON JUICE - Julius Peppers. The lemon juice is what makes this drink. It's why fans of the drink range from college students to old women. Peppers is the sole reason why the Bears are 3-1. He's put the entire defense on his back, and carried them well beyond what his stats indicate. If only he could be in two places at once, and take Tommie Harris' spot.
SUGAR - Devin Hester and the entire special team's unit. You could probably drink a Tom Collins without sugar. I haven't tried it, it probably tastes OK. But as long as you have the sugar, why wouldn't you add it? Hester's special teams play gives the Bears the extra kick. He's the difference between a decent team and a good team. Expecting consistent touchdowns from him is unreasonable, but it's not too much to ask to pick a hole, and run straight, full speed ahead.
CLUB SODA - Brian Urlacher. Club soda is the wild card of this drink. It can be replaced with carbonated variations and still garner the same results. It looked like Urlacher was replaceable a few years ago. We could have brought a younger linebacker in to take his place, but it just wouldn't have been the same. Urlacher used to be, and probably still is one of the most popular players in the league. At this point, it's good to see him start the year off right. And for now, he's irreplaceable.
CHERRY AND ORANGE SLICE - Matt Forte and the running game. The cherry and orange slice add more to the presentation of the drink rather than the actual taste. You could order a Tom Collins at a bar and even though it would taste the same, you would feel jipped if they didn't give you the cherry and orange to go with. That's how I feel about the Bears running game. At best, we're only going to average 75 to 80 yards a game on the ground. Our defense, and to a lesser extent, our passing attack are going to win us games. The run game is more about the presentation, to make us look like we're a complete team. So analysts can feel confident picking us, without feeling guilty about picking a team with no running game.
Cheers to Tom, I mean, Todd Collins! If you survive Sunday's game, I'm sure someone, somewhere will buy you a drink.