David Haugh on George McCaskey’s spending spree,

George McCaskey respectfully declined my request a couple of Sundays ago to walk with him through Soldier Field’s South lot before the home finale the way I had twice during the 2017 season.

I wanted to document how different the mood was among fans then and now, near the end of a regular season greater than even the Bears chairman could have imagined. A year after the Bears announced 17,539 no-shows for their last December game, their stadium was full of flag-waving fanatics relishing the crowd’s Pavlovian response to an air-raid siren.

A year after Bears tickets sold on the secondary market for $39 each, StubHub advertised four seats in the United Club for the first round of the NFC playoffs going for $2,399 — apiece. A year after irrelevance beckoned for the Bears, I had hoped to follow McCaskey on a victory lap celebrating local reaction to a legitimate Super Bowl contender.

But McCaskey can be as stubborn as the Bears defense and said no. To McCaskey’s credit, he didn’t respond by saying “I told you so.’’ As tempted as McCaskey might have been. As much as he had every right to do.

It was January 2017, after former coach John Fox’s second season, when McCaskey claimed during a Halas Hall news conference that “the Bears fans that I talked to in the parking lots tailgating and in the seats were telling me, ‘Hang in there, it’s going to get better.’ ’’

I countered that the fans I talked to were telling me they wanted the coach fired and the McCaskeys to sell the team. That was George’s cue to invite me to accompany him on his regular pregame tour of the South lot before the 2017 opener. On the morning after McCaskey made those comments, the Tribune headline over my critical column read: “Reality eludes McCaskey, but Pace knows the score.”

Coincidentally, McCaskey was scheduled to appear that same day as a studio guest at WSCR-AM 670, where I was co-hosting. Before saying hello, McCaskey greeted me at the door with sarcasm.

“Out of touch with reality, huh?’’ McCaskey said. “Why would you want to talk to me?’’

With the Bears now the talk of the town again for the right reasons, McCaskey deserves as much credit for his team’s resurgence as he received blame for its decline. He played a role in both. From 2011, when McCaskey took over as chairman, through the 2017 season, he had presided over four general managercoach combinations, suggesting the impulsiveness of an executive who still considered himself a fan led to experimentation. The continuity McCaskey always craved called for something he seemed to lack: patience.

A year ago, McCaskey found some. General manager Ryan Pace presided over the same 14-34 record Fox did, but McCaskey spared Pace, whom he had promised the five years his contract stipulated to build a winner.

McCaskey believed in Pace when almost nobody else did, blind faith the young GM rewarded after hitting reset on his career. Instead of firing Pace, McCaskey empowered him financially. Pace hired coach Matt Nagy — as significant as any Bears decision in 2018 — and attacked free agency armed with McCaskey’s mandate to do whatever was necessary to get it right this time — cost be damned.

Last winter, according to spotrac.com, the Bears invested $172 million in free agents, second only to the Jets, arguably overpaying for offensive weapons such as wide receivers Allen Robinson and Taylor Gabriel and tight end Trey Burton.

Then on Sept. 1, the Bears pulled off the NFL coup of the year by acquiring elite pass rusher Khalil Mack — a move that never would have happened without McCaskey approving the $90 million guaranteed for Mack’s six-year, $141 million contract, the richest for a defensive player in league history. Suddenly, nobody was accusing the McCaskey family business, worth $2.9 billion, according to Forbes, of operating like a mom-and-pop store.

The metamorphosis on McCaskey’s watch legitimized his tenure and revitalized a sleepy franchise.

I enjoy my rapport with McCaskey, one of the most unpretentious billionaires you ever will meet and a quirky, funny guy who appears to care more about being accepted than other sports owners in town.

Bulls and White Sox Chairman Jerry Reinsdorf exudes power and an air of indifference regarding popularity. Cubs Chairman Tom Ricketts enjoys mingling with fans at Wrigley Field but never struck me as someone who loses sleep over his likability. Blackhawks Chairman Rocky Wirtz oozes charisma and naturally mixes in with any crowd.

McCaskey makes the most effort to connect, approachability often misconstrued as vulnerability. It’s a management style supported by little substance, until recently. No owner in town has enjoyed a better year.

Whereas the Hawks’ turnaround under Wirtz was more stunning and historic, the Bears’ looks lasting and lucrative, perhaps less a precedent-setter than moodlifter throughout the city. The Cubs under Ricketts forever changed the culture on the North Side. But the Bears belong to everybody in Chicago and McCaskey always has been guided by that civic responsibility.

It was that strong sense of obligation that overwhelmed McCaskey when I asked him in December 2014 how his mother, Virginia, felt about the state of the Bears after he fired general manager Phil Emery and coach Marc Trestman — a personal exchange with McCaskey even more memorable than our South lot tour.

“She’s pissed off,’’ he famously said as his eyes moistened.

Suffice to say after George’s best year in charge of the Bears, Mrs. McCaskey has no reason to be pissed off this December — but many to feel proud.