Week 14 Preview - A Frigid Reflection on Destiny and Delirium
Enter the Quiet. Enter the Rage. Enter Lambeau.
Close your eyes, inhale deeply, and picture the swirling snow over Lambeau Field. Listen to the distant echo of a bear roar carried on a cold Wisconsin wind. Feel your heart rate rise, your spirit tighten, and your chakras immediately clench in the presence of Packer energy.
This is no ordinary week. This is meditation by firelight. This is zen practiced on a battlefield. This is Bears vs Packers in December.
Cicero sits cross-legged beside the Des Plaines River in a blizzard, sipping Old Style and chanting: “Clear mind. Open heart. Destroy Green Bay.”
The Two-Headed Monster That Shall Not Be Stopped
The Bears running game, more of a thunder-and-thunder pairing with Swift and Monangai, is rolling. A glacier-breaking, trench-consuming, snow-plowing force of nature should travel beautifully to a frigid Lambeau. This is the kind of rushing attack that forges new paths in fresh powder like a majestic bison stampede… or a Chicago dad in cargo shorts shoveling at 5 AM.
Green Bay’s front seven, an injured unit built like a folding table, is about to be tested by a two-headed monster that eats winter for breakfast.
A Fortune Fattened Over Thanksgiving
After the Bears dethroned the Eagles on Thanksgiving weekend, after they roasted, basted, carved, tenderized, and deep-fried Philadelphia, the universe handed Chicago even more house money. We were already rich in hope and now we are spiritually wealthy.
A win at Lambeau on national television would turn this from a fun season to an epoch, a multi-generational story, a moment Chicago children will recount to their grandkids.
Chicago Teeters on the Edge of Delirium
This city is buzzing. The trains, the bars, the dog parks, the Jewel-Osco aisles, everywhere you go people whisper:
“We might actually beat the Packers. In Lambeau.” Technically, we did it last year too.
Chicago remains calm only in appearance. Inside, the soul of every Bears fan is vibrating like a fax machine in 1998.
If the Bears win Sunday this city will erupt. Car alarms. Fireworks. Lake Michigan boiling. Gene & Jude’s running out of hot dogs by halftime. It will be glorious. It will be terrifying. It will be deserved.
The Stranger Truth: Bears Fans Love the Offense More Than the Coaches Do
Let us meditate on this absurdity. For the first time in recorded Chicago Bears history the fans are more satisfied with the offense
than the coaches.
Ben Johnson watches the film of Caleb Williams and the passing game and mutters in disgust as if he’s being forced to review a middle-school science fair project. Fans watch the same film and openly weep with gratitude. We have endured decades of offensive schemes so inept they were studied by historians and anthropologists. We have watched offensive “innovations” that resembled rotary phones, dial-up internet, and Blockbuster late fees.
So when Caleb Williams throws for 240 yards, scrambles for 40 yards, tosses 2 TDs, and completes less than 60% of his passes, the fans see fireworks. Ben Johnson sees missed reads and sloppy footwork.
This only strengthens the bond between the fans and this team. We know where we’ve been. We know how dark the cave once was. We celebrate the light.
Cicero’s Lambeau Meditation
Sit. Breathe. Visualize Jordan Love throwing wobblers into the frozen night
Caught only by Bears defenders or gentle Wisconsin snowflakes.
Visualize the double-headed running attack slicing through green and gold like hot knives through holiday fudge.
Visualize the city of Chicago glowing, a zen inferno of joy, on a frigid Sunday night
Final Zen Manifestation
Bears 24. Packers 20
A snow-plowed path to victory. A season unhinged. A city on fire. And the moment Chicago finally whispers into the winter wind: “Taking the North is no longer the ceiling for this team”
Get ready for the bedlam to ensue.
