In Chicago, Ditka’s words still carry a lot of weight

Sure it’s good to be the king.

But here it’s better to be Da Coach, and never better than this past week.

On Thursday morning, Mike Ditka and his replacement hips swiveled into the restaurant that bears his name and likeness on the marquee outside, then through a crowd that parted as respectfully as the Red Sea.

Ditka hasn’t caught a pass in this town in more than 40 years, and it has been 14 since he was last seen on the sideline. But the city still hangs on his every word. And at the moment, it was really dangling.

Today, Chicago will play host to New Orleans in the NFC championship game, with the winner moving on to Miami and the Super Bowl. As if it wasn’t tough enough knowing the rest of America is already pulling for the Saints, Chicagoans have spent the last four days awaiting definitive word from Da Coach that he, at least, is still on their side.

But so far, nothing.

The city remains the base for Ditka’s budding empire, home to his wildly successful eatery and the backdrop for many of his lucrative gigs as an endorser and the media Monster of the Midway. But from the moment the Bears put away the Seahawks last weekend until this one, Ditka has been playing it coy.

In a handful of interviews, he refused to say where his loyalty lies. Ditka, after all, came of out retirement to coach the Saints briefly, and like everyone else who has ever spent time in New Orleans, seeing the havoc Hurricane Katrina wreaked tweaked the soft spot in his heart. And no sooner did he take his seat in front of a microphone for his weekly ESPN radio show than the question was asked one more time.

“The only thing dumber than that question,” Ditka finally growled at Steve Rosenbloom, one of his co-hosts, “is the person asking it.”

Cheers.

“Did anybody think that maybe the reason I didn’t say anything is because I don’t want to jinx them?”

More cheers.

“I’ve been here since 1961,” Ditka resumed, now almost indignant, “and I’ve rooted for them each and every week of the season.”

Even more cheers.

“Well,” Rosenbloom deadpanned a moment later, “our long civic paralysis is finally over.”

Ditka put down his cigar, looked out over the room, and cracked a grin.

For a guy who passes himself off as decidedly low-tech, the 67-year-old franchise obviously knows a thing or two about synergy. For all the talk about not wanting to “jinx” the Bears, the real reason Ditka kept his own counsel this long was simply to put a little extra money in his pocket.

On an otherwise dreary winter morning, the “Hall of Fame” room on the second floor of Mike Ditka’s is packed. It’s not even noon, but the bar is selling way more drinks than coffee and waitresses are buzzing between the tables stretching back from the impromptu radio stage.

Every time Ditka & Co. got a station break, patrons form a line to have him autograph miniature footballs or dinner plates, both conveniently emblazoned with his logo. A few school-age kids wander around in jerseys and helmets, apparently playing hooky or else waiting for the question-and-answer portion of the show.

The first question, though, comes from a grown-up. It has to do with whether the Bears defensive line can get pressure on Saints quarterback Drew Brees without blitzing.

Anybody who’s ever watched Ditka coach, and even those who’ve only seen him working as a TV commentator, knows better than to expect an in-depth answer.

Ditka doesn’t do analysis. What he does better than anyone else, though, is come up with new ways of saying that everybody, coaches as well as players, should try harder because, well, that’s how Ditka did it.

“At some point,” Ditka said, presumably addressing the Bears tackles and ends, “you’ve got to buckle up and go.”

Cheers.

Question No. 2 comes from a youngster fumbling to read the drawn-out question he’s written down on a sheet of paper.

“Hey, coach,” he began shyly. “I’m Jason from Elmhurst.”

Jason wanted to know how the Bears defense could stop the Saints’ two-headed running attack of Reggie Bush and Deuce McAllister. Again, Ditka’s answer is short on specifics and long on effort.

“Do I think they can stop the run?” he said finally. “Yeah.”

More cheers.

On one of the half-dozen flat-screen TVs bolted to the walls, a small picture of Ditka fills one corner as the talking head on one local sports segment wonders whether Da Coach will back Chicago or New Orleans.

Now, everybody has their answer. The distinctive tinkle of glasses being bumped together in toasts fills the place. Ditka picks up his cigar, lights it one more time and grins.

He’s got vacation homes, been around the world several times and pitched more products than he ever caught passes. But to Chicagoans, the prosperous guy sitting on the stage will always be one of them.

They never forgot the hard-as-nails tight end who shed tackle after tackle to carry the Bears to one NFL championship as a player in 1963, and then won another as Da Coach in 1986.

That’s why his words mean so much.