Indianapolis 29, Bears 17. Thus ends Chicago’s once-a-generation visit to the NFL championship game. The rain and Prince, as well as the final score, lent a soggy, dispirited feeling to the proceedings.
But on the plus side, I feel like I really must have grown as a human being. I watched without dismay or rancor: I let loose with one first-half “god damn it,” but after that nothing stronger than a “God bless America” escaped my lips (the presence of an impressionable and watchful seven-year-old helped check any over-the-top displays, as did the fact the Bears were outplayed for all but the first few minutes of the game. Bottom line: Stuart Smalley would have been proud of me).
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