Achilles Brown

By: Dustin Beutin

“And then Achilles rose up, donned the new armor that his mother had brought, fresh from the forges of the god Hephaistos, and plunged back into battle, routing the Trojans and slaying Hector, their general and the oldest son of King Priam.Soon thereafter it was Achilles turn to die, at the hands of Paris, Hector’s brother, who pierced his heel with a poisoned arrow guided by Apollo, who had not forgotten the death of Troilus.

Thus the prophesy was fulfilled, and Achilles’ ghost rejoined his friend’s in the Elysian Fields. Their ashes were mixed together in a golden urn, and the Greeks buried them in a common tomb.”

The Greeks understood entertainment. Their theatre and literary works form the foundation of the Western world’s culture of entertainment. The physical trials of ancient Greece, symbolized so eloquently by the Olympics, form the basis of our sporting heritage.

Just as everything else has evolved since Ancient Greece, so has entertainment. My evidence? For one, we (thankfully) no longer perform sports in the nude. After all, who would want to see some of our “athletes” emblazoned on an urn in their full glory? Maybe a select few Bradys and Sharapovas, but certainly not Bobby Jenks or Jamal Williams.

As entertainment goes though, what links us to our past is that our entertainment choices still seem to reflect a desire to see the cruelty of the world from which we are trying hide. Greek tragedies are not that far of a jump from HBO’s The Sopranos.

Perhaps that’s why football is so popular: it embraces a cruelty that the Ancient Greeks would have so enjoyed. And it is cruel. Ask fans of the Buffalo Bills just how cruel it can be.

And there is cruelness of a completely different nature in what happened to Mike Brown last Sunday.

The cruelness of fate.

Mike Brown will probably go down as one of the greatest safeties to ever play for the Bears, even though he now stands perilously close to spending more games on IR than on the field.

That’s the thing about greatness in Chicago: it doesn’t just spawn from epic battles on the playing field. It also comes from weaving yourself into the fabric of this city.

What Bear in recent memory has captured the imagination of Chicago so deeply that the mere mention of him being able to play incites people to declare the Bears early favorites for the Super Bowl? What player on any Chicago team in the last decade has been so inspirational, motivating and intelligent as to be revered by nearly every teammate as their “heart and soul”?

Sammy Sosa, with all of his talent, never inspired his teammates to such levels. Kirk Hinrich, though extremely likeable, doesn’t dominate games the way Chicago needs its sports heroes to do on occasion. Maybe the 2005 White Sox, but the subsequent dismantling and collapse has been so rapid that it left us little time to really get to know them.

Michael Jordan was the last, but here lies the difference: Air Jordan never spent back-to-back-to-back-to-back seasons on the bench with a major injury.

Can Mike Brown be compared with the king of the Bulls? No. But, neither can basketball be compared to football.

And make no mistake - Chicago is a football town.

When you think back on any game Mike Brown has started, you instantaneously have memories of him making game-changing plays. The overtime interceptions against San Francisco and Cleveland in consecutive weeks will forever stand as the legend of Mike Brown in this city. People have already started to say “I was there when…” in regards to that moment; and certainly, ten years from now, nearly one million Chicagoans will claim to have been at Soldier Field on one - if not both - of those days.

But to focus solely on those plays only belies the incredible work Mike Brown has done for the Bears. Look at the record books. Though he will now spend his fourth consecutive season on IR, Mike Brown is…

  • Tied for second all time in Bear career interception returns for touchdown
  • Tied for first all time in single-season interception returns for touchdown
  • Holds the record for the second-longest fumble returned for a touchdown (95 yards)
  • Sits atop the Bear record books with the most fumble return yardage of any Bear - ever.

How can a player that has played so little hold so many records?

How can a player who brings so much passion and so much game to the field be injured over and over again?

The answer is a mystical crossing of talent, passion and fate.

To compare his career with any other Bear player is almost impossible. Blessed with intelligence, leadership and playing ability and cursed with a rash of injuries so freakishly inadvertent, it just boggles the mind.

Perhaps you could reference Dick Butkus or Gale Sayers, both of whom were given the opportunity to build their Hall of Fame resumes before having their careers cut short by knee injuries and suspect medical advice. However, with both Butkus and Sayers, they were able to return from injury and fate gave them a chance to put in at least one more season before pulling the rug out from under them for good. Additionally, for the era, their careers lasted what was then an average NFL lifespan.

Standards are higher today. Blame medicine, or science, or both. Players aren’t expected to be finished at 29. The head-shaking sadness of Mike Brown’s four-year run of futility is incomparable, if only because it feels as if we’ve only seen the surface of what Mike Brown could accomplish with a few more healthy seasons as a Bear.

Perhaps that’s why Bears players, management and fans love Mike Brown. Because he shows his love for all of us by playing like a Greek hero every time he is on the field. The fact that it occurs in a stadium designed to hark back to the era of Olympics, gods and epic battles adds to the illusion that somehow Mike Brown is descended from Olympus itself.

Should the Bears keep Mike Brown next season?
  Yes - he’s the heart and sould of this team, and they need him around.
  No - he’s been hurt too many times. They need to move on.
 
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What seems even more painful is that seeing the Bears play without Mike Brown makes us feel that the Bears just aren’t a contender anymore. Sure, the team has seen a lot of success without him on the field over the last few years - it’s just a sensation that’s impossible to describe, other than to say that Mike Brown changes games and gives the Bears a shot even at times when they don’t deserve one.

It also inspires flashbacks to the recent Jauron era, when it seemed that the Bears were just moments away from being in contention if QB Jim Miller could just stay healthy. He teased us with a string of immensely exciting games in 2000, including a set of 300-plus-yard passing performances that etched his name in the record books. Then he was hurt and the season took a nosedive.

In 2001, Jim was the inspirational spark that fired the Bears up against the Vikings after 9/11 and took them on a run to a playoff showdown with the Eagles… only to be hurt in the game on a dirty block, a change in fortunes that contributed to the Bears being shut down by the Eagles on their own field.

After that game, the Bears collapsed in 2002 as they waited in vain for Miller to try to get healthy. All the while, people in the city walked around muttering that the Bears had a chance if they could just get Miller behind center. Alas, it was not to be. Miller’s career ended a journeyman’s death a year or two later as the Bears sent him packing in favor of guys like Kordell Stewart.

What made Jim Miller so much like Mike Brown is not only that the city felt the Bears had a shot if Brown or Miller could play. It’s that Jim Miller, like Mike Brown, was so inherently likeable. A tough, everyman kind of guy who looked like he’d happily meet you in the backyard for a steak and a beer. He was kind to the fans, cared about his teammates, and clearly loved the game.

Chicago appreciates that kind of thing. It shines through and, when it does, it ties the player into the heart of the city.

Interestingly, there is something else that Jim Miller and Mike Brown share: both players at one point suffered a blown Achilles tendon.

In the case of Mike Brown, the analogy is fitting. A player that is mythically good, who seems to destroy players and teams single-handedly, whose appearance on the field is enough to inspire his fellow players and frighten his opponents. A game-changer, impervious to the cruelty of the game. That is, except for a single chink in the armor that keeps him from dominating the record books.

If this was indeed Mike’s last season, it would be fitting that the Bears honor his play and his dedication to the city with more than a farewell announcement at halftime. Maybe place a plaque in the north end zone, where he so famously ended the OT games in 2001. Do something to recognize all the passion he showed the team and the city.

Hopefully - for both the Bears and the fans - Brown will dig deep and find the courage to prepare himself for another shot at playing a full season. Who could blame him if he doesn’t, though? Can it be imagined what it’s like to spend a fourth year in physical therapy after three times thinking oneself fully recovered?

Perhaps the greatest thing that can be said about Mike Brown is that despite how tough his medical journey will once again be, Chicagoans expect, in their hearts, that he won’t hang up the cleats. If there’s one thing we’ve learned about him, it’s that he doesn’t quit.

There have been rumors the Bears will cut Brown and move on now that he’s injured again. Logically, one could point to the investment side of the NFL “business.” But, if the Bears are so stupid as to try and cut him after this season to save money, the fans in Chicago may just riot. No way can Halas Hall let Mike Brown go - the fans won’t care if he spends every year from now to eternity on the IR.

He is Chicago’s Achilles, for better or worse.

Though other sportswriters in Chicago might still be unpacking their carpetbags, Dustin Beutin is a born and bred Chi-town sportswriter. Heading into the heart of the Big Ten (Purdue) broadened his sports views, and it was during the Jauron era that he lost the innocence of blind love for Chicago sports and began looking for an outlet to vent his frustration. A trip out west to USC for a Master’s in writing was only tolerable with high doses of ESPN and Dodgers games, though it gave him a respect for the national perspective. Now in the early stages of a sports-writing career, Dustin hopes to give back to the city of Chicago everything it gave him: opinions and heartburn.

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