Dear Andy: Welcome, despite the frosty reception
Dear new Bears quarterback Andy Dalton:
Hey, man. I know you’re not hearing a lot of this at the moment, so I want to be one of the first — who knows, maybe THE first — to say, “Welcome to Chicago. Glad you’re here.”
You may not feel real welcome at the moment. Folks around here had their eyes on … well, they were kind of hoping for more of a … hmmmmm. This is awkward.
They were hoping to get Seattle quarterback Russell Wilson. There, I said it. It’s the truth, and you’re an adult. No need to dance around the truth.
Wilson is what avid football watchers would call “better” than you, in a strict “throwing the ball” and “winning football games” kind of way. You’re no slouch, of course. Three Pro Bowls. Nine seasons as a starter for the oft-lowly Cincinnati Bengals, a team you took to the playoffs each year for your first five seasons. That’s not nothing.
Let’s put in this way: Most of the people around here criticizing you would likely pull a hamstring walking onto the field, assuming they could make the walk to get there from the parking lot without stopping for a bratwurst break. So, you know, let’s keep things in perspective. You’re a player.
But you’re not getting too warm a reception, and that stinks. So I want to offer myself up as your first Chicago friend and welcome you to the city, which is a nice place aside from the politicians and the bizarre hatred of ketchup on hot dogs.
Why would you want me as a friend? Well, for starters, I’m very likable and I have a cool dog. Her name’s Rosie. She would like you, unconditionally, because that’s kind of her thing.
But more importantly, I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of … let’s call it “criticism” … from people in this area. As I was writing this letter — and I’m not making this up — an email notification popped up on my screen with the subject line: “You’re a piece of s—-!”
Did that make me feel bad? Nah. I was actually impressed the writer used “You’re” instead of “Your.”
Point is, I get the blah-blah all the time, and I think you’re already getting the blah-blah and, if I was a betting man, I’d say the first time you throw an interception in a Bears uniform, you’re going to be getting a lot of the blah-blah.
So, you know, we can have a few laughs about the blah-blah and put some ketchup on our hot dogs like normal people and watch Rosie stare at us, hoping a hot dog — with or without ketchup — comes her way.
Because here’s the thing I like about you. In your news conference Thursday, you said this:
“I’m a guy that brings a lot of experience, that played in a lot of games, that has done a lot in this league. That’s a big part of it. (But) it’s not just about the game of football. It’s bigger than that: the impact we can make with this platform we have, getting involved in the community and all the different areas of it, and for me, being a great teammate, doing everything I can to help this team, this city and bring a lot of excitement.”
I like that you recognize what you can do with the platform you have. I looked you up on the Google machine, with an eye toward the non-football stuff. And I found out about the work you and your wife did in Cincinnati and elsewhere through the Andy and JJ Dalton Foundation.
Helping out seriously ill kids by providing resources for them and their families and funding experiences that make their lives better.
Donating time and money to kids with disabilities.
In 2019, you gave a whole slew of parents a free date night at a Hilton in Cincinnati while you and your wife and a child care group entertained the kids. That’s awesome.
I’ve spent a lot of time here writing about children with disabilities, and Chicago has some great programs, large and small, that help people in communities across the city. They could use an advocate like you.
So rather than focus on the quarterback who shall forever be deemed “the other guy,” I’m going to focus on you. And wish you and your family luck getting settled. And hope the moans of disappointment don’t get to you any more than the dumb tweets from armchair quarterbacks ever have.
If you need anything, you know where to find me. (Sometimes hiding under the bed weeping, but most of the time in front of a laptop.) If you start up charitable work in the area, I’m happy to help. If you have a spare Ferrari you’re looking to give away, I’m your man. (Kidding. Sort of. Do you? Again, kidding. We’ll talk.)
Go get ’em, Red Rifle. Chicago’s aching for a quarterback to love. And kids in this city can always use a hero.
Your pal if you need one,
— Rex