The Hype Too Much to Bear

The Miami television reporter went to the zoo. He walked up to the bear cage.

“Are you going to win?” he asked.

No reply from the bear.

So, the reporter strolled over to the fish tank. He went face to face with a dolphin.

“Are you going to win?” he asked.

The dolphin nodded.

The reporter then put a stuffed bear on the deck surrounding the pool.

“What are you going to do to the Bears?” he asked.

The dolphin flopped out of the water and flattened the bear.

Another Miami TV reporter reported from the Chicago Bears’ hotel before Monday night’s game. He interviewed Bear fans. He interviewed autograph hounds.

He said: “But the question all of you are asking is: ‘What did The Refrigerator have for breakfast?’ ”

The reporter barged into the kitchen and found the room-service waiter who had served 302-pound William (The Refrigerator) Perry his breakfast.

“What did he order?” the reporter asked. The waiter told him. “And what did he say?” the reporter asked. “He said: ‘Give me my food,’ ” the waiter replied.

On the morning of the game, a Miami paper ran a large photograph--what other kind is there?--of The Refrigerator. A feature story accompanied it. A big feature story.

The same weekend, a Washington, D.C., paper ran a big feature on how good The Refrigerator has been for the game. A Detroit paper’s top story on Sunday’s Page 1 was a visit to the home of The Refrigerator’s parents. (Norge and Amana?) An Atlanta paper ran a picture of Perry to promote Monday’s game in Miami.

In Dallas two weeks before, the airport sold Refrigerator T-shirts. Cowboy fans hauled a broken-down refrigerator into a parking lot and smashed it with sledge hammers.

Dan Rather did The Refrigerator on the “CBS Evening News.” David Letterman had him on his show. Bob Hope flew to Chicago to tape him for his special.

The Refrigerator taped a McDonald’s commercial. Then a car commercial. Then he authorized his biography, which will be published in a couple of weeks. “The Refrigerator and the Monsters of the Midway.”

In Chicago, a promoter held tryouts for a chorus line of women dancers. All applicants were required to weigh at least 200 pounds. They would be known as The Refrigerettes.

Omni magazine contacted the Bears and wanted to know if they could ask The Refrigerator his viewpoint on the futuristic possibilities of male pregnancy.

The Bear quarterback posed for a magazine cover in Rambo gear. The Bear offensive line posed for a poster dressed as the Blues Brothers.

Chicago fans called the team office, asking who the Bears would be playing in the Super Bowl. A large group decided to take a commercial flight together to Miami, but got so rowdy that the pilot turned the plane around on the runway and refused to leave.

So desperate was a Chicago newspaper reporter to keep up with the story that (evidently) he interviewed make-believe Dallas fans at a make-believe Texas bar to tell the world what they thought of the Bears. He was dismissed later on when he could not happen to remember where this establishment was.

Chicago has got to calm down. And so has the rest of the country.

This thing has gotten out of hand.

Just because the Bears have gotten off to a great start is no reason to go to pieces. And just because they came up with a chubby novelty is no reason to keep treating him as the eighth wonder of the world.

Maybe Monday night’s 38-24 loss to the Dolphins will be the best thing that ever happened to Chicago. It will bring the town back to reality. It will restore some sanity.

Chicagoans, bless them, have been setting themselves up for a great fall. With a single-elimination playoff format, it is very possible that any team, even an unbeaten one, can have its season ended in three poorly played hours.

Maybe everyone can relax now and let the Bears go about their business. As defensive back Dave Duerson said: “We’re not gods. We’re just football players. We do the best we can.”

Coach Mike Ditka said after Monday’s game: “Nobody’s perfect.” And he was right. The Bears no longer were.

Nobody should be perfect. Perfect makes people act unnaturally. When people think someone is perfect--an entertainer, an athlete, whatever--they try to touch him, be near him, be like him. They want too much. They expect too much. They build themselves up for a letdown.

The Bears have had people behaving abnormally. They have been too good a story--famous team, large city, frequent loser, colorful players. The Bears became the cabbage-patch team that everyone wanted to adopt.

William Perry is a nice kid with a gimmick. He is an unusual player, not a great one. Miami center Dwight Stephenson manhandled him Monday. “William is still learning,” Bear linebacker Mike Singletary said. “People should realize that.”

The Bears are still learning, too. Learning to stay humble. They gave up 28 points in one half to Tampa Bay, needed a sensational comeback to beat Minnesota and won by six points in Green Bay. This is not Superteam we have here.

From now on, maybe everybody can relax. The Miami TV people can rest their inventive brains. The newspaper people can stop exploring Perry’s background as though it were Abe Lincoln’s cabin. The Refrigerettes can go back to their hot-fudge sundaes in peace.

The Bears will play the Indianapolis Colts next. There is no need to go interview a horse.