Da Man

 Unavoidably, this morning, you think of Da Bearz, of the Superfans, of George Wendt and Joe Mantegna and Chris Farley and his chronic heart attacks. And of Mini Ditka and Regular-Size Ditka, of course.

"So if Dikta went to meet God, who would win?"

"Mini Ditka or Regular-Size Ditka?"

"Regular-Size Ditka."

"Oh, well, then Ditka for sure."

"Ditka."

"Ditka."

"Ditka."

Well, of course, Mike Ditka talked God (or wrestled God) into letting him into heaven. He's Ditka. Heck, even Mini Ditka could beat the stupid Packers with one arm behind his back. You think he couldn't defeat the afterlife?

And so this morning he's probably up there in the Great Hereafter trading punches with Buddy Ryan, that back-stabbing SOB. He's telling Walter Payton to leave him the, um, heck alone, because how many times does a guy have to apologize for letting the Fridge score that touchdown in the Super Bowl?

 He's running up the seam and snatching a football out of the sky, while celestial spectators exclaim "Dang, I didn't know a tight end could do THAT."

Before he was head coach of the Super Bowl Shuffle Bears, see, Mike Ditka was a Bears tight end, which some people tend to forget. Now he's neither, having gone to meet his Maker yesterday at the tender age of 86.

A big piece of whatever makes Chicago, Chicago, went with him. 

In the city of big shoulders he was the big shoulders, a kid from the steel towns of western Pennsylvania who came to represent another closed fist of a town in the Midwest. If Ditka wasn't Chicago -- all sweat stains and elbow grease and no fancy put-on airs -- no one was Chicago. He was Stan Mikita's tough mug and Tony O in goal; Rodman diving six rows into the high-dollar seats chasing a loose ball; Jason Hayward saying whatever he said to the Cubs during the rain delay in Game 7.

He was Harry Caray and the Go-Go Sox and a Chicago 'dog and Rush Street. Lou Malnati's and Lakeshore Drive and the El and the U505 over there at the Museum of Science and Industry. He was all of that.

Of course he'll mainly be remembered as the man who corralled those irrepressible '85 Bears -- Richard Dent and Danimal and Mongo McMichael, and that crazy Yalie Gary Fencik -- and turned them into the real Monsters of the Midway, brutalizing the rest of the league with Ryan's ferocious 46 defense. Except for one lost night in Miami, Jim McMahon and Walter and Refrigerator Perry and that defense destroyed everything in their path that season, finishing it by clowning the New England Patriots 46-10 in Super Bowl XX.

Oh, and that lost night in Miami, when Dan Marino and the Dolphins strapped an inconceivable 38 points on 'em?

A couple of days later Da Bearz recorded Da Super Bowl Shuffle. Talk about big brass ones.

Which gets us around to Ditka again, Da Man who epitomized Da Bearz and everything else. So much so, perhaps, that people do indeed tend to forget he's in the Hall of Fame as a player, and a groundbreaking one at that.

 Before Ditka came snarling out of Pitt, tight ends were basically just a fifth offensive lineman. Theirs was not to reason why; theirs was but to block linebackers and defensive ends.  But then Iron Mike went out and rung up more than 1,000 receiving yards in his rookie year, and tight ends became an offensive weapon forever after.

Oh, and before you ask: It was Regular-Size Ditka who did that.

Not that Mini Ditka couldn't have, of course.