Taking care of your Chicago Bears fan mind, body and soul.

Cicero has studied the pinecones, consulted the river spirits of the mighty Des Plaines, and performed three rounds of restorative yoga. The universe appears to be sending a message with the Patriots coming to Chicago and the planned tribute to Mike Ditka.

Friends, fellow citizens of Bear Nation, and anyone currently staring at a cheese grater and wondering whether it might be a suitable instrument for removing one's own memory, gather around. Put down the remote. Step away from the television. And for the love of everything sacred along the Des Plaines River, stop searching the internet for the 2027 NFL Draft rankings of defensive players

Some athletes play a sport. Some coaches win championships. And then there are the rare figures who transcend the boundaries of their profession and become permanent residents of a city's soul. Mike Ditka was one of those figures.

He was toughness without apology. Passion without a volume knob. Chicago swagger distilled into a human being who appeared capable of arguing with a thunderstorm and winning.

Cicero Bear would like to begin with an apology. To absolutely nobody. He is a FOOTBALL ORACLE. A vessel of divine gridiron wisdom. A spiritual intermediary between the Chicago Bears and the cosmic forces responsible for improbable quarterback performances. And now, the universe presents us with another opportunity. TYSON BAGENT.

Sometimes the universe does not give you the quarterback you wanted. Sometimes it gives you the quarterback you need. So here we are. Case Keenum. Veteran quarterback. Emergency starter. Professional human being. Potential Monday Night Football legend.

Cicero is now convinced that the Chicago Bears have discovered an ancient offensive power hidden beneath Soldier Field, somewhere between the original sod and a forgotten Chicago parking ticket.

The Bears scored points with the enthusiasm of a teenager who just discovered the unlimited breadsticks a 1980’s Pizza Hut buffet. Cicero has consulted the Des Plaines River. The river spoke. It said: "MORE."

Cicero Bear has awakened. Not gently. Not peacefully. Not with the serene mindfulness of a woodland creature emerging from a long winter's sleep.

He exploded out of his den at approximately 6:17 this morning, screamed "BEAR DOWN" at the Des Plaines River, frightened three squirrels, startled a family of geese, and immediately began doing yoga.

There are moments in a bear's life when the forest calls. The Des Plaines River whispers. The leaves fall. The temperature drops. And eventually, Cicero enters his lair, curls into a magnificent ball of fur, and hibernates. Usually, this lasts several months. This year, however, there was a problem. I overslept.