At some point in the waning minutes of Sunday’s game, the totality of Green Bay, December, Lambeau Field, Matt LaFleur, Jordan Love and most certainly a combination of Josh Jacobs and Kingsley Enegbare outweighed the promise and progress of the Chicago Bears (not to mention Caleb Williams’s tendency to freelance his way into destructive choices). This was a totally fine, understandable and acceptable outcome; one that most betting markets predicted with razor-sharp accuracy, having favored Green Bay by a touchdown before the Packers won 28–21.
Yet that didn’t stop anyone from having fun at Ben Johnson’s expense after the game because, almost a year ago, at an introductory press conference, he talked about how much fun he had winning games against LaFleur as an assistant with the Lions—alluding to the idea that it would be similarly enjoyable as the head coach of the Bears.
This week, the story was predictably rehashed and freshened like a frozen pizza in the air fryer. Packers offensive coordinator Adam Stenavich seemed to suggest that it was taken personally. Fox insider Jay Glazer reiterated the phone call he had with LaFleur after the Johnson press conference in question, in which LaFleur said he didn’t know Johnson and made the comment out to be an unwarranted act of aggression.
Most of this is an “us” issue and our fascination with anything cringeworthy, macabre or sensational. So certainly, this world being this world, we gawked at the frosty postgame handshake, which lasted about as long as a free stroller on Facebook marketplace. We tuned into the postgame press conferences for a reaction to those comments.
LaFleur said, “It was a quick handshake, and we’ll see them again in two weeks.”
Johnson wasn’t asked, although, as a 15-year NFL reporter, I have to credit him for his thoughtfulness at the podium after a gutting loss when the typical demeanor is terseness, combativeness or being outright checked out.
But I did not hear anyone thanking Johnson. This man, about as square looking and sounding as a regulation chess board, with a haircut like a Ken doll, was hopping around his locker room last week with his shirt off to give the city of Chicago free hot dogs (lines that, if you saw news reports, spanned entire city blocks). And this week, a calculated, out-of-nowhere shot at the most successful coach in the division turned an already-great rivalry game into one of the tensest fourth quarters of the season. He has brought more juice to the NFL than a boatload of fake-tough-guy cosplayers who try to paint themselves as renegades.
While I’m not naive enough to think there was direct causation, the fact that Johnson had the fortitude to purposely get under LaFleur’s skin is not only applaudable, it’s elemental if we hope to regain some connection that this sport has with its roots. Back when teams genuinely disliked each other and did not treat one another like corporate partners at the Greater Aurora Carpet Retailers Road Show. Back when obsession—specifically directed at the dislike of or infatuation with one person—led to the generation of unbelievably creative plays. Thirty years ago, Johnson or Nick Sirianni, or (perhaps in a far, far, far more extreme example, someone like Curt Cignetti at Indiana) elevated to their positions naturally because of a competitive drive that choked out everything else in their lives. Not because they looked polished enough to accompany them to Bal des Débutantes.
While I’m not also suggesting that someone get Whiplash-level obsessed to the point of permanent mental strain, there is no argument to the contrary that Johnson beginning his tenure the way that he did and storming out to first place in the division before this Packers game wasn’t great for football. The Bears have now won 13 of their last 52 games against the Packers. Since 2011, the Packers have won the division eight times to Chicago’s one. As Aaron Rodgers has implied so many times, this wasn’t really a rivalry at all.
Now it is. Chicago was one very, very ill-advised play by its improvisational-to-a-fault second-year quarterback from tying this game in the final seconds and sending it into overtime. The Bears’ second half was nearly flawless, with Williams logging an adjusted completion rate of almost 90% in the final two quarters. With eight minutes to play in the fourth, Johnson called a play so perfect in its design that, after his eligible tackle (which nearly the entire Green Bay defense committed to) was illegally cut blocked, he still had his rookie first-round pick tight end wide open on the opposite side of the formation.
And maybe that’s why LaFleur had no interest in piling on and clapping back just yet (although he could be saving it for the grand finale in two weeks when these teams play again in Chicago). He had to know that Bears-Packers isn’t Bears-Packers anymore. It’s a legitimate rivalry between two of the best rosters—and coaches—in the NFL.
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This article was originally published on www.si.com as We Should Be Thanking Ben Johnson for Spicing Up Bears-Packers.