Back in grade school, the coach used to make us run track. We were split up into two teams. Now, as fate would have it, there was one team of fairly fast runners of which I was lucky to be a member. I certainly wasn’t the fastest, but I made sure I wasn’t the weak link that sank our sleek running juggernaut. The other team was also filled with young speedsters, each one just as fast as our own members. However, they had something we did not. They had Crayton.

On the surface, Crayton was not a bad kid. He was likable enough, seemed interested in winning, and, wedgies aside, was glad to be a part of the group. The problem was: Crayton just could not run.

I don’t mean he was slow; I mean his feet warred with each other the way that the Spartans and the Persians did. He seemed to be propelled by unknown forces as his size 8 Converse sneakers pounded the asphalt yard that served as our track. If there was a stone, Crayton tripped over it. If an errant bird flew too low to the ground, it hit Crayton. If Crayton ran first, he fell so far behind the deficit could never be overcome. If he ran last, he blew the lead that the others had pushed to gain. It was kinda sad, really. I mean, how could one kid be so inept?

One Friday, the coach was after us again, yelling for us to run a relay around the perimeter or the school fence. Well, long story short, when the baton was handed off to Crayton, he launched himself with a purpose undefined. As usual his teammates had built up a lead good enough to win, and it was up to him to bring it home. He almost did. Almost. About halfway through, Crayton got winded and tripped, and on his way down, he poked himself in his right eye with the baton. In what would later be called “The Eyeball Mile”, Crayton cemented his place in the history of counter-productive, inept athletes.

Move over, Crayton. Ineptness has a new name: It is Rex Grossman. I respect the Chicago Bears for sticking with the “Rex is our guy” line. But in order to truly get better, one must first admit that one has a problem. Lovie Smith, you have a problem.

Sometimes, football games are shootouts, and quite frankly, as long as you allow Rex Grossman to be your starting quarterback, you will be bringing a toothpick to a gunfight. The fact that the Bears had an impressive record going into the Super Bowl only serves to show how excellent the rest of the team is. Rex is a member of that team, but like barnacles on the hull of a ship steaming across rough seas, he’s just kind of along for the ride. If he’d just ride quietly it would probably be all right. But he’s more like that gremlin in “The Twilight Zone” that dismantled the plane and freaked out William Shatner. I think the Bears’ offensive staff looks forward to passing situations as much as I relish a trip to the DMV. Each is truly a study in horror.

It’s fair to say that none of the Bears’ coaches would want to take a polygraph on the Rex issue. I don’t think anyone could pass that, Rex included. Plainly said, the Bears win in spite of Rex, not because of him. So Lovie, do the right thing. Go get a quarterback and open up the job to competition going into next season. Hope springs eternal, but if you continue to put the future of your offense in the hands of a bewildered fop, it will overshadow all of the other great things you have accomplished. Please, please bring the Rex era to a swift conclusion. At best, failure to do so could divide your team and fans even more. At worst, someone could put an eye out. Just ask Crayton.

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