The Chicago Bears' Unraveling

"For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost; for the want of a shoe, the horse was lost; and for the want of a horse, the rider was lost, being overtaken and slain by the enemy, all for the want of care about a horseshoe nail." —Ben Franklin on the British offensive line.

It's amazing how an injury to a rookie offensive tackle can unravel an entire team.

For wont of a capable backup, a season was lost.

It's embarrassing that a general manager and coaching staff can allow that to happen.

Forget Grossman and Rex, for wont of a tackle, the season is unraveling. For wont of a tackle, a potentially great defense ages and slows as another wasted season begins.

How can a team have no contingency plan beyond that of a 22-year-old tackle that has never played a pro game?

What if instead of having a serious injury, which some teams say he showed signs of before draft day, he was just another first-round bust who could not adjust to the size and speed of the pro game?

Didn't anyone think that could happen? Half of the first round is filled with flops every year.

Lovie Smith says, sagely, that things are looking clearer and clearer. It's looking clearer and clearer that the offensive line is a quarterback killer. That's the only thing clearer.

But Lovie calmly says everything is getting clearer and clearer. So calm is Lovie that I expect him to start humming Johnny Nash as reporters pest him about the upcoming slaughter of his QBs.

Lovie will look calmly wonderful on ESPN just answering questions by saying it's clearer and clearer, and then softly singing:

"I can see clearly now the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone all the dark clouds that made me blind
It's gonna be a bright, (bright) bright, (bright) sun shiny day
It's gonna be a bright, (bright) bright, (bright) sun shiny day

Yes I can make it now the pain is gone,
All of the bad feelings have disappeared.
Here is the rainbow I have been praying for.
It's gonna be a bright, (bright) bright, (bright) sun shiny day

Look all around, there's nothing but blue skies"

General Manager Jerry Angelo was mocked when he said his QBs were as good a fit for this team as Favre.

Jerry was right.

It doesn't matter who the QB is when a defense sends six or seven men blitzing and the line folds up like the French Army in World War Two, the rookie back struggles with blitz pickup, and the untested receivers desperately try to adjust to a disintegrating scheme.

I'm far from a Rex fan, but a man standing alone against a blitz has no chance.

Rex has no chance.

Joe Montana or Johnny Unitas would have no chance with this line.

Both QBs are gonna play because the starter, and his backup, are going to be beaten to a bloody pulp week after week.

Backup QBs three through five best stay rested, for they will be tested this season.

The last time poor, fearful creatures were sent to slaughter like this in Chicago it was at the Union Stockyards and they were sadly, madly mooing as they were shoved along to their bloody doom.

Can Rex, at least, pitifully moan and moo as linebackers attempt to turn him into raw meat to be grilled hot on Sundays by defensive coordinators.

I had doubts that running back Matt Forte was the right draft pick.

It will be impossible to judge, as Walter Payton or Gale Sayers would not be able to make many yards on a team with a horrible line and no threat to throw.

And Payton and Sayers played behind some bad Bear lines.

How did the line-rot reach this point?

No easy solution awaits.

No miracle, left-tackle savior lurks in the free agent or the waived market. No, those guys are hard to find, and Olin Kreutz and John Tait, the Bears' best two lineman, are not getting any younger or healthier.

An injury to Tait and the teams' rivets pop like the calamity-filled Titantic's when that iceberg ripped it apart.

Didn't anyone check the high-priced rookie's back?

Didn't anyone think, "We have a Super-Bowl-caliber defense, let's at least have a bit of offensive line depth?"

How does an injured rookie tackle unravel a team?

Somehow, everything is getting clearer and clearer to Lovie.

Like a lost man standing, singing on some lonely train track in the middle of a starless, moonless, pitch-black night, calmly watching a distant bright light get bigger and bigger, but unable—or unwilling—to hear the ominous roar of the oncoming train's wicked whistle.

Everything is getting clearer and clearer...