House of Dysfunction, Part III: Who's the boss?
“The great ruse is ‘Hey, everything is great here in Camelot.' Well, it’s not actually Camelot." Our series wraps up with a look inside how these Bears are run. Can new HC Ben Johnson overcome it all?
Read Part I here.
Read Part II here.
The FBI did not, in fact, raid the facility. That online rumor was a hoax.
So, hey, there’s some good news for the Chicago Bears.
All humiliation was shrouded in platitudes publicly. Inside the building, this flagship organization crashed to a new low through the 2023 season when two assistant coaches were let go for crude workplace behavior.
First, there was the peculiar case of Alan Williams. Fellow coaches noticed the team’s defensive coordinator acting strange during staff meetings on Sept. 12 of that season. He didn’t want to go home. The next day, Bears security searched his office. On Sept. 15, it was reported that Williams would not travel to the team’s game in Tampa Bay due to personal reasons. On Sept. 17, the Bears played the Buccaneers.
One day felt like a year as the Bears — waiting and waiting and waiting — inexplicably fueled curiosity into the mystery themselves. What did Williams do exactly?
One person involved with the fallout told us the Bears determined Williams, inside his office, engaged in sexually inappropriate behavior on an electronic device with a woman. “Between meetings. After practice. Before practice. All the time,” this source adds. The woman, we’re told, then tried to extort him — the Bears logo was in the background of one photo sent. This triggered an investigation and prolonged the situation. Internally, those involved with the crisis management found it strange that neither GM Ryan Poles or head coach Matt Eberflus were in charge of punishment. Final jurisdiction rested in the hands of Kevin Warren and, for whatever reason, the team president opted to slow-play the PR nightmare. Warren stressed the need to talk to the coach.
Others insisted the Bears cannot tolerate such behavior and must act fast. This was getting out of control.
On Sept. 20, Williams finally submitted his resignation, and was paid his full salary due.
The next week, things got weird during an all-staff meeting inside the PNC Center at Halas Hall. Typically, these meetings are scheduled far in advance. This was obviously an emergency address in the wake of the Williams mess. In front of all employees in all departments, the CEO derided “closed doors” in the building. And to wrap it all up, he played a video of Roger Bannister running the first ever four-minute mile.
“We’re all sitting there watching this thing,” recalls one source in the front office, “wondering, ‘What the fuck is this? We just had a guy fired — we don’t know what he did, it could’ve been something really bad — and you’re showing this fucking video?” There was no mention of Alan Williams, no clarity at all.”
As everyone filed out, they wondered what in the hell they just heard.
Then, there was David Walker. Two months later, the running backs coach was let go. One high-ranking source tells us the Bears concluded Walker harassed several females in the building via text and was warned by HR to stop. The father of an intern whom Walker was texting finally contacted the Bears and threatened to take action. On Nov. 1, Eberflus announced that Walker had been terminated. This source does not believe the Bears did nearly enough to support the women who the Bears determined received those text messages.
“You want to treat people the right way,” this source says. “There’s more to the support system than, ‘Hey, we fired him. The problem’s over.’”
Neither coach responded to Go Long for comment.
Two major crises. Two hollow responses. It can often feel as if you’ve stumbled into an alternate reality here.
True: The 2024 draft was a charade and Caleb Williams was a problem last season.
Also, true: A combustible environment is required to set all of this in motion. Methane so potent that a team never even considers other quarterbacks. Look closely at how business is done inside Halas Hall and it’s no secret how bad so easily turns to worse. There’s the GM. The accounts of how Poles fires people are callous. There’s the grand poobah. Warren, the president, hasn’t yet fulfilled his promise of “shovels in the ground” on a new stadium nearly 1,000 days in. Worse, employees in all departments describe a culture of fear.
Poles is the GM. Warren is dubbed the “end all, be all” by one VP.
“The great ruse is ‘Hey, everything is great here in Camelot,’” this exec says. “Well, it’s not actually Camelot. Ask anyone, and if they’re honest with you, it’s going to be quite the opposite. That’s the reality. Everyone is scared for their job, worried at any moment he’s just going to call — well, not him, he won’t do it, he has somebody else handle that shit.”
In Part 3 of our series, we explore how an NFL franchise malfunctions through the eyes of those in-house. The difference between perennial winners and losers in the NFL isn’t as Point A-to-Point B direct as a quarterback botching a play call or a cornerback taunting fans during a Hail Mary play. How the Bears conduct business the other six days of the week has a unique way of poisoning gameday and, frankly, you can see why any young QB would be hesitant to play here.
All roads — as always — lead back to ownership. George McCaskey took the reins on May 5, 2011. He’s currently 94-134 at the helm with zero playoff victories over 14 seasons. As one source in player development says, “losing organizations tend to have losing habits” and those habits deeply embedded into this franchise are especially hard to break.
Are they impossible? The ray of hope is a 39-year-old, first-time head coach: Benjamin David Johnson.
There’s no political gobbledygook in his voice. Everyone we spoke to describes a head coach with the cruise control set at 100 MPH trying to fix this mess to the best of his ability.
When Chicago hosts the Minnesota Vikings on Monday Night Football at Soldier Field, the crowd will roar. Such is the beauty of an eight-month gap between seasons. All of this time gives the working man dedicating his pay check and precious time and sanity to a football team sufficient time to reset, do some yoga, overanalyze an exhibition game and grow hopeful all over again. Williams currently has the deafening support of this fan base. Yet, these patrons are also weathered. By the end of last season’s horrendous 6-3 loss to the Seattle Seahawks on Dec. 26, fans chanted “Sell the team! Sell the team!” in booming unison.
Those who’ve lived this vicious cycle 24/7/365 understand the details of life inside this building are not easy to swallow, but they also feel the pain of those fans and view sunlight as the best disinfectant.
One longtime employee who’s gone but still very plugged into the inner-workings of the Bears has seen this movie play out before.
“Everything’s great,” he says, “until shit actually hits the fan and it’s like, ‘Oh boy, here we go again.’ … “It really does start at the top, and if you don’t have somebody with intelligence or common sense, these mistakes keep being made and made and made, and you hire the wrong people. Or bad people. To the public it’s like, ‘Oh, fresh start! Hit reset! Let’s go! Spirits are high again — optimism!’”
He sighs.
Endless memories run through his mind.
“Little do they know what’s going on behind the scenes.”
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Goodbye
This is the cutthroat business they’ve chosen. People are fired in the NFL all of the time. And when coaches behave so haphazardly, the tumor should be removed. Yet even stranger than random videos of a 4-minute mile is the manner in which this Bears regime severs ties with other employees. Beloved employees.
Your review is a smashing success. You’re told you’re doing everything right. One day passes. Perhaps one week. Then, without warning, you’re treated to a perp walk. Treated, several say, “like a criminal.” Security escorts you to your office… past your colleagues… right to the driver’s seat of your vehicle.
“The old switcheroo right in front of you: ‘You don’t have anything to worry about. Oh, this is great. We believe in you,’” says one such staffer booted. “As they’re saying what a great employee you are, they’re pulling the rug out from under you: ‘Get the fuck out of my house.’”
No, you cannot grab your personal belongings. That’ll arrive via snail mail.
No, you cannot speak to Warren, or Poles. They’re busy.
Friends see you dragged away and start to ask themselves one question: Am I next?
It doesn’t help that Poles is an introvert. “Not a people person,” one source in player development says. “Not good at 1 on 1 conversation.” He, too, has walked by his boss in the hallway without the GM glancing his direction. The dearth of a basic “Good morning” or “How are you?” sets an edgy tone for the day. From there, one source in operations explains, if Poles needs something, he needs it now. If it’s not done in two minutes, you’ll get a text. Or a call. “And,” he continues, “you’re expected to answer at all hours of the night.” Conversely, staffers have sent the GM texts without receiving a reply for 24 hours.
“I know you’re the GM,” this source adds. “I know you’ve got a million things going on. But don’t be that guy. It’s not that hard to be a good person. Ryan Poles loves being the GM. He loves the spotlight that comes with it, but he’s not really the guy for the job because he’s not a great communicator within.”
And when the person who controls your livelihood is the one ignoring you in the hallway, one source adds, “that can fuck with your mind a little bit.”
As it should. Everyone has ample reason to be on edge.
Our network of 32 sources interviewed for this series, which includes former and current Bears employees, pieced together a handful of examples to illustrate this point. Poles was not made available to Go Long by the Bears.
Most sources start with the tale of Jason Loscalzo. The team’s strength and conditioning coach from 2018- ’22 knew Poles back to the GM’s days as an offensive lineman at Boston College. And when Poles was one of at least 13 candidates interviewing for the Bears gig, he offered intel on what needs fixed. Poles got the job and Loscalzo was thrilled for him, but new regimes always bring uncertainty. Two days later, the strength coach asked Poles if he’d be retained and a source with direct knowledge of this interaction tells us the GM assured him multiple times: “You’re my guy” and “I’m running the show.” Loscalzo dissected the entire roster, player to player, for the new GM and when he asked if he’d need to re-interview for the position, he was assured by the GM — “You’re my guy” — and told it was OK to let his wife and kids know they’re staying in Chicago. They’d iron out a contract extension once Eberflus hired the rest of his coaches.
Sure enough, when the Bears’ final coaching staff was announced, his name was on it.
Loscalzo had options. Two other NFL teams were interested, but why bother? It doesn’t get any more rock freakin’ solid than the General Manager himself offering such a promise. Plus, Loscalzo was employed by the Bears. Even if he did explore one of those openings, that team would be required to phone Poles. At which point, the GM could theoretically ask “Where’s your loyalty?” It wasn’t worth it. Their prior relationship was icing on the cake.
Two and a half weeks passed, and it was strange that Eberflus paced through an empty weight room without saying hello. The strength coach’s massive glass window is positioned right where the coach walked by. Hardly anyone else was in the building at that point, yet the two exchanged all of five or six words. Loscalzo left three messages with the coach’s secretary, saying he’d love to introduce himself and chat. He never heard back. It wasn’t too concerning. All along, the strength coach BS’d with Poles in the weight room.
Then, at 3 p.m. on a Tuesday, Poles called Loscalzo up to his office and fired him.
The conversation lasted a minute and a half. All the GM said was that the Bears needed to let him go. At 6 a.m. the next morning, a replacement was in the building.
Poles, it appeared, knew a change was coming all along and said nothing. That’s what irks everyone who saw this go down — the fact that the GM could’ve simply admitted to Loscalzo that he misspoke and Eberflus wanted his own strength coach. Or, he could’ve vetoed him. Instead, the new GM avoided this hard conversation entirely. By the time Loscalzo was ejected from Halas Hall, the ship had sailed on those other NFL jobs. He was forced to sit a full year before taking over as the head strength and conditioning coach at the University of Nevada.
The two former B.C. Eagles later chatted briefly.
Poles told him he’d call when life slows down. He never did.
It was abundantly clear that this new regime wanted to cleanse itself of everything Ryan Pace/Matt Nagy.
One source brings up Jen Gibson, the head nutritionist. Several years ago, she worked for the U.S. Olympic committee. “She was good,” this staffer says. “She knew her shit.” She was also dangling around those early weeks of the Poles/Flus era. Gibson started to worry when she saw Loscalzo whacked — clearly nobody was safe. On cue, she was cut loose when it was too late to latch on with another NFL team.
That purge included LaMar Campbell, the team’s treasured director of player engagement who was on the hiring committee that made Poles GM. Droves of players loved the man known as “Soup.” He, too, was told he was safe. He, too, was fired. Campbell actually stuck around from January through June and was on vacation when Poles called to say he’s done. “This shit happens in all different industries,” says one longtime Bears staffer. “Every sport. But seeing it firsthand? You’re like, ‘Holy shit, dude.’”
Poles apparently wanted to shift toward the mental side of the sport with this position — a logical maneuver. His choice was Mike Wiley and, in due time, Wiley was shown the door. On Feb. 23, 2024, he received excellent feedback in his year-end review from director of player personnel Jeff King and team clinician Carla Suber. Their only advice was to keep building relationships — Wiley tended to work most with players in the middle of the roster, down to the practice squad. He sought organic connections. Star players, who often paid for their own mental coaches, were less likely to seek him out.
One week later, Wiley was called into a meeting with Suber and head trainer Andre Tucker and fired. All he was told was that the Bears evaluated his department and decided to let him go. With that, security escorted Wiley to his office and told him they’d mail whatever he couldn’t take home. Next, he received that perp-walk to his vehicle. It took a month-plus for his office materials to arrive. Funny enough, the Bears kept his team-issued clothes that had his name stitched on. And into April/early May, Wiley reached out to the head of HR to point out that he never received any documentation about his firing. No termination letter. Nothing. Soon after, HR emailed him a one dated Feb. 25.
Isaiah Harris worked in player engagement and strength/conditioning. He was cut loose in 2024 without the GM telling him what he did wrong or what he could’ve done better. This timing was also unfortunate. After the Combine, the game of musical chairs for jobs was over.
When Chicago lured longtime PR man Ted Crews away from the Kansas City Chiefs, nobody told Brandon Faber that he could be on the ropes. Both Poles and Warren assured the team’s head of communications that Crews’ arrival would not affect his status at all. Why would it? Faber helped Poles onboard in Chicago both professionally and personally. The two were close. Faber worked in Chicago for the Bulls, Blackhawks and Bears for nearly 25 years. Then, on April 9, 2024, witnesses tell us Faber was called into a meeting with the head of HR and VP of Marketing. They raved about his work. Told him he’s been a model employee. And, oh by the way, the Bears would be eliminating his position.
The Bears informed Faber this was Warren’s decision. When Faber asked if he could speak to Warren — who was nowhere to be seen — he was told no. Instead, the Bears informed him that they’d phone security to walk him out. This didn’t sit well with a boss trying to maintain a little dignity. Faber oversaw 15 people in four departments. He lived a mere seven minutes away. After asking if security could escort him on a Saturday to clean out his office, Faber was again told no. The Bears said they’d mail all of his stuff home, but he could grab his keys quick.
That’s when Faber replied that he leaves his keys in his car because, unlike some people, he actually trusts people around here.
Crews was officially hired on April 17.
Faber now works directly for Bill Belichick at North Carolina. He still has not heard a word from Poles or Warren, we’re told.
The worst story, most agree, is the time a scout received a call from Poles inside a hospital. His wife was in labor. He told the GM his wife was in labor. And sources say that Poles informed this scout that he’d be reevaluating his role in six months due to his attitude. When the scout hung up the phone, he knew two things: 1.) he’d be a father; 2.) he’d need a new job soon. All during what should’ve been the happiest moment of his life.
As these stories (and more that we don’t have time to get into) spread like wildfire through the building, the mentality shifts. One fired employee calls it a “scarcity mindset.” Terrified of doing one thing wrong, and being the next person fired, staffers try to appear busy whenever a superior lurks. It’s also common, sources say, for Poles to paint fired employees in a negative light.
People skills — a must for all GMs, all coaches — are honed through trial and error and Chicago has been mired in that error phase under Poles. “When you couple arrogance with inexperience,” says one coach, who used to consider Poles a friend, “that’s just a bonfire waiting to happen.”
Communication issues here tend to metastasize.
Upon taking over, Wiley told Poles that it’s imperative players view him as an independent party. The relationship between a player and any psychological coach in the sport is a sacred one. He could not be seen as a company man. Poles agreed. Yet, on multiple occasions, Wiley felt as if he was being used as a rat.
Their first summer together, the GM instructed Wiley to get tough on a particular player — confront him, use blunt language to make it clear he’s not living up to his potential. Even as the new guy, Wiley could tell this player wasn’t the type who’d respond to an old-school kick in the ass. Yet, this was a GM’s directive. He followed orders, and, no. It didn’t go over well. Months later, Wiley apologized to the player for being so hard on him — without ever saying Poles put him up to it — but the damage was done. Their relationship was ruined.
Another time, Wiley was told the Bears needed to use his office. No explanation was given. Standing in the hallway, Wiley watched on as scouts ushered defensive end Robert Quinn in. His phone lit up again. This time, from friends. They were asking if all these reports about Quinn being traded to the Philadelphia Eagles were true. Even as the exact scene played out before his eyes, that’s how Wiley received the news and it hit him: He was nothing but a pawn. The Bears needed Quinn to sign papers quickly downstairs before the trade deadline, and Wiley’s office was near the locker room.
It was a bad look. His No. 1 job was to get players to open up, to share their deepest thoughts on all things football and life. To witnesses, Wiley could’ve appeared in on the ploy.
Hard conversations — for too long — have been treated as molten hot magma in Halas Hall. Be it a draft meeting that’ll set the course for the next dozen years, facing those Caleb Williams realities after a 19-3 loss to the Patriots or something as menial as asking someone much, much lower on the totem pole for a favor. One staffer recalls sitting next to Poles for seven days straight at the NFL Combine in Indianapolis without the GM saying a word to him. The moment everyone returned home, Poles sent someone else down to ask him for something. “You know why he couldn’t tell me that?” this person says. “It was something I didn’t want to hear.”
The previous regime obviously did not win enough games but sources everywhere repeatedly praise how the ex-GM (Pace) and ex-head coach (Nagy) treated them. The difference in leadership style was so jarring that one longtime staffer says he’d rather lose with Nagy/Pace than win with Poles/Eberflus. Cafeteria cooks and janitors received as much genuine love as the offensive coordinator. People didn’t dread going to work. Today, many employees scattered throughout the building feel more like cogs. When this source who was around Poles on a regular basis saw his old boss enter a Chicago restaurant, he could only laugh. Nobody asked for his autograph. Nobody bothered him at all. But sure enough, there was security detail at Poles’ side.
“He doesn’t care about the actual humans that are doing the work in the building,” this source adds, “and the people that are fucking sacrificing their time and their families to do work for him.”
The Bears see something they like to give Poles a contract extension. I’ve met scouts who had pleasant experiences with Poles, back to his Chiefs days. And if Caleb Williams proves to be Patrick Mahomes 2.0, you better believe this GM will get the last laugh forever.
His reputation around the league, though, is not sterling. When I bring up Poles’ name to one GM, he begins by referencing all of the solid relationships he’s cultivated across the league. He gets along with essentially everyone. But in the next breath, he unloads. Rarely will you ever hear anybody in this chair criticize a peer to this degree.
“Ryan Poles, even when he was in Kansas City, just came off as an arrogant asshole,” he says. “It’s an entitlement and an arrogance all coming from a team that hasn’t been successful. Even with other GMs that’ve done it for a long time, you don’t feel that. So there was always something with him. You always felt this arrogant entitlement to him that you’re not used to. You don’t have that a lot in the league. It’s not normal.”
Another GM had the same experience whenever he’s crossed paths with Poles.
“There’s something different about him,” he says, “I’ve never been the biggest fan. He acts like he has it all figured out and has all the answers.”
The challenge is discerning whether one GM is a virus or a symptom.
Look closely and the Chicago Bears’ issues are… pervasive.
Eberflus was not exactly the second coming of Mike Ditka. One source vividly remembers the coach’s first address to the team. It was somewhere between awkward and embarrassing. “Holy shit,” he says. “It was bad.” Mainly, “Flus” was too goofy for modern players, overloading them with nicknames and acronyms. Players grew tired of his “Spidey” and “Mako Shark” and “Sandman” routine. “High school shit,” says one source. “Quite frankly, I’d get more inspired by a high school coach. That’s who they hired to lead the Chicago Bears.” Another personnel man we spoke to worked for a club that interviewed Eberflus for their head-coaching vacancy in 2019. Part of him wants to cut the Colts DC slack because he was in the midst of a playoff run. But it was memorably bad. “A lot of superficialities, slogans and shit like that,” he says. “You can be a good coach and be a little full of shit, but you’ve got to have substance behind it.”
Elsewhere in the building, several people share salacious stories of employees sleeping with people in power to climb the ladder. “Soap opera drama. It’s part of the fabric, part of the culture there right now,” says one source, who cites the Coldplay Kiss Cam scandal as the sort of thing that’s common here.
All while the representation of the team is prudently scrubbed ‘n sanitized. “Hard Knocks” stopped being a watchable show ages ago. With NFL teams granted editorial control, what once began as a raw account of training camp has devolved into insipid propaganda. Yet even by these standards, the Bears stood out. One HBO cameraman became particularly irritated by the Bears’ “no swearing” edict. Players here cussed more than any team he had ever recorded. Dulling such an Rated-R reality into PG glee was a pain in the ass. The same idea applies with the team’s own TV show. During the pre-draft process, the Bears would have one set of real meetings, then play along for a second round of (air quotes) “behind the scenes” footage to disseminate.
Carefully editing the narrative is crucial when there are minimal results to speak of on the field.
This organization has not, in fact, taken the North.
As the 2022 season wound down, ahead of Warren being named the team’s new president, one source recalls Poles complaining to colleagues that the Bears were giving him a new “mentor.” It’s been an odd pairing. Every so often, a kernel of truth makes its way to the public, too. As last season careened off a cliff, Poles held a joint press conference with Warren and was rendered a somber mute as the president promised brighter days.
“It looked,” says one former Bears exec, “like someone shot his dog right before he walked on stage.”
Internally, the demeanor of the GM wasn’t a surprise.
The CEO
Exactly one year before that painful presser, diehards may recall the Bears publishing a Day in the Life piece on Kevin Warren.
The team was wrapping up another losing season. So with good vibes in scarce supply, the Bears manufactured some of their own with an inside look at Warren’s “18-hour work day” on New Year’s Eve, right through a win over the Atlanta Falcons. Words and pictures capture Warren praying over a Bible, working out on a StairMaster for 30+ minutes, getting in some core work, showing off his Spotify playlist (with a link) and meticulously washing his car before driving to the stadium to take selfies with fans.
The kicker: Warren orchestrated it all himself.
Internally, nobody had a clue this was happening. Warren directly asked a then-intern at the team site to follow him. An intern photographer also joined in.
“The team was absolute horseshit,” one exec says, “and he’s out there parading around and doing this story on himself. What’s the intern going to say? Like, ‘No, I’m not doing this. I don’t know if I have a job tomorrow.
“Read the story. I know it’s 9:30 a.m. You’ll start drinking, and you may not even be a drinker.”
Image is king. The PR agency, Zeno Group, sends Warren regular reports on how his name’s being perceived in the media. One co-worker who witnessed this piece come together firsthand says Warren “fancies himself as Mr. Do Good.” Several in the building were surprised to see that that he even owned a car considering a team driver takes him everywhere. They cannot imagine how much the team spends for someone to shuttle the CEO around.
“Bro, you’re not the President of the United States,” says one longtime staffer. “You run a football team. Get a fucking stadium done. Don’t worry about this puff piece. Nobody gives a shit. The fans want the Bears to win.”
About that stadium.
The Bears hired Warren in January of 2023 with the aim of constructing a new home after five decades inside Soldier Field. Somehow, the team residing in America’s third-largest city plays in the NFL’s smallest stadium (capacity: 61,500). Warren trumpeted shovels in the ground by 2024. That didn’t happen. Warren then aimed for shovels in the ground by 2025. That’s not happening. “Somehow,” one former Bears exec says, “they’ve gone backwards.” Even after Ted Phillips, the previous president, purchased 326 acres in Arlington Heights at the price of $197.2 million, his replacement (Warren) pivoted to the city upon arrival. The 180-degree turn perplexed many on the business side considering Phillips obviously explored a city stadium himself and got nowhere in Chicago’s gridlocked politics. Warren partnered with mayor Brandon Johnson, pissed off governor JB Pritzker and eventually realized that building a stadium on the city’s lakefront is unrealistic.
His sights are set back on constructing a $4.7 billion home on the Arlington Heights property 26 miles from the city.
“It’s just asinine,” says one longtime Bears staffer. “Why would you let the old president buy all that land if you didn’t think the new guy was going to be on board?”
Maybe there’s a method to the madness. One former front-office staffer thinks Warren played footsie with Chicago to drum up competition and obtain property tax certainty in Arlington Heights. He sees strategy.
Either way, during the Bears-Bills exhibition broadcast on Fox, Warren said the quiet part out loud. To cheery music and B-roll footage, he was optimistic that the stadium will get approved in the fall veto session. Commentator Greg Olsen asked how important it is “to keep the stadium in Chicago vs. the surrounding areas” and Warren tried to tap dance. He said that Arlington Heights and Chicago are both in Cook County and trumpeted the 9,000 permanent jobs a new stadium would bring. But there’s been no news. “He’s trying to wordsmith his way out of guaranteeing that there would be shovels in the ground,” one ex-Bears exec says. Warren’s stint with the Minnesota Vikings coincided with the arrival of their U.S. Bank Stadium palace. Several on the Bears’ business side are starting to wonder how instrumental he was with this project.
A stadium will get done. At some point. Nothing matters more to the league.
(UPDATE: One day after this story was posted, the Bears announced their Arlington Heights plans.)
Day to day, Warren is the man in charge with full autonomy to fire and hire (and fire some more) across all departments.
If this building is not “Camelot,” I ask one VP, what does it resemble?
“You’re always looking over your shoulder because you never know what kind of day it is for Kevin,” he says. “He might choose to pick on you that day or not. There’s uncertainty and unpredictability to what Kevin chooses to be hyper-focused on at any moment. And you spend more time trying to stay out of his vision. You better think long and hard before you go to Kevin, unless it’s something that’s going to give him more credit about something. You can’t go to him and say, ‘Hey, we really ought to do this, or less of that.’ There’s no way.
“Unless it’s something that’s going to put Kevin’s name in the paper and give him credit, just leave it alone.”
A large segment of the Bears workforce sees a president who insulates himself with loyalists, while condemning independent thought. Troubling, if true.
The sport’s greatest visionaries — the ones who flip losers into winners — prefer daring minds. Not stooges.
“People are scared every day that they’re going to be fired,” says one exec on the business side who stays in touch regularly with his former co-workers. “It’s a job. It’s why they pay you. But you shouldn’t fear going to work and you shouldn’t dread the people you work with — certainly those that are supposed to be leaders. You should look up to them. It’s quite the opposite.”
Most recently, the Bears cut loose a highly respected employee who has worked in operations the last 30 years: Geoff Bunzol. News like this doesn’t make a ripple in the Twitter streets. At work? People see a decision like this and get nervous. Many names are given. One source brings up director of corporate partnerships Dave McClamroch, whose opinion wasn’t being heard on the stadium. He headed to Legends to run sponsorships for Northwestern University’s new stadium that was built right on-schedule. “So,” a source adds, “he must know something.”
It's common for an employee in any office — scouting, marketing, business — to present a new idea to their superior and meet nothing but red tape. “Ass kissing” takes precedence over genuine innovation, adds one ex-director. All with a dash of Thrones-like ruthlessness, too. He remembers staff members constantly jockeying for position.
Those who’ve found greener pastures elsewhere — in the NFL, college, out of football entirely — stress to current Bears employees that they should leave before Warren makes the choice for them. There’s the culture Ben Johnson is trying to implement. Then, there’s the culture everywhere else. Many of those who weren’t hired by Warren are looking for a life raft. You’re either in or out. One ex-Bears employee who stays in regular contact with those in-house describes the new regime as a “cult.”
“People are walking on eggshells on the business side waiting to see when the next shoe falls,” he adds. “Anybody who’s worked their way up and done a good job for all these years, well, tough shit. Eat it or quit basically. You’re either Team Kevin Warren or you’re not. So anybody that steps out of line or speaks their opinion, whether it was the scout or whoever Thinks For Themselves, uh-uh, no. That’s not who they want there.”
One former exec, on his way out the door, told McCaskey that — if he’s not too careful — he’ll lose his football team to Warren.
Of course, those who’ve been handpicked to lead the organization a new direction certainly do not feel this way. Championships and a world-class stadium would justify all sweeping changes in the eyes of history.
You’ll hear positives. One front-office source recalls Warren holding 1-on-1 meetings with everyone, right down to those on the bottom rung of the organization. He asked what you would do to fix the team if your family owned it. People who don’t even work directly for Warren say he’d call them on their birthday. This source describes Warren as “100x” more personable than Poles. Refreshing, no doubt.
Also refreshing is that Warren has actually gotten McCaskey to open up the checkbook and spend the type of money it takes to win in this league.
How much say the CEO has over day-in, day-out football decisions is a gray area. He’ll pull up a seat, eat peanuts and ask strange questions next to the top personnel men during draft meetings. But he’s mostly described as more of a mentor for Poles and harmless as it pertains to substantive personnel moves.
So, the beat goes on. One common scene outside of Halas Hall is a current employee, man or woman, venting to a former employee. Beer is often required. Some are thinking of leaving the organization. Some have tried and were blocked.
“Sometimes you’re too close to the sun and you step away and you’re like, ‘holy shit,’” says one former Bears exec. “When you’re in the middle of it, you don’t realize that you don’t like the way things are going.”
One fact in all of pro sports is true. Winning is a cure-all antibiotic. Frowns turn upside down and the air itself breathes easier. Losing turns bad into much worse. Upheaval becomes a necessity, regardless of who’s getting extensions and who’s kissing whose ass. One person who’s heard many GMs and coaches promise hope wouldn’t be shocked if Ben Johnson wins 10 to 12 games this season. Even then, he believes the organization is run “like a circus” and that the buck stops first and foremost with Domino No. 1: McCaskey.
“It starts at the top,” he says. “It all trickles down.”
What now?
There are NFL owners, like Jerry Jones, who dictate which players their teams should sign and draft and trade and proceed to call their best defensive player “Michael” Parsons on his way out the door. And then there’s owners like McCaskey who infamously stated that he’s “just a fan, not a football evaluator.” He might as well have fashioned a blindfold over his eyes through that critical 2024 offseason.
Both approaches usually bomb in spectacular fashion.
The best billionaires find a happy medium by trusting a smart football mind to make the final call, while also demanding those same football minds handle such monumental decisions with the utmost diligence. One VP who’s quite fond of McCaskey doesn’t understand why he keeps making the same grave error at such a consequential position. He believes the owner should’ve instructed Ryan Poles to dig as deep into one (or two) other quarterbacks as he did Caleb Williams and simply said: “Show me I’m crazy. Show me you’re right to a fault.” That’s not overbearing.
But he didn’t. Nor did Warren. For those who’ve dedicated their lives to the Bears, the laissez-faire approach is exasperating.
“How did this happen?” one longtime staffer asks. “Why is the draft process so flawed? Well, we hire bad people. Look who’s hiring bad people.”
That’d be McCaskey, who previously served as the director of the Bears’ ticket office. The eighth of Ed and Virginia McCaskey’s 11 children took over as the Bears’ fourth chairman in 2011 and inherited a football team in a healthy place.
Let’s rip through 13 seasons quickly as possible.
Fresh off hosting the NFC Championship Game, the Bears start 7-3. Life’s good. Quarterback Jay Cutler breaks his thumb, Chicago (understandably) limps to an 8-8 finish and McCaskey promptly fires GM Jerry Angelo. The next year, new GM Phil Emery fires head coach Lovie Smith off a 10-6 season. Fans aren’t exactly up in arms over Smith’s exit considering he was around for nine seasons but the next move proves disastrous. Chicago chooses the CFL’s Marc Trestman instead of reigning coach of the year: Bruce Arians. That same 2013 offseason, one of the best coaches in NFL history also happens to be available. (“Andy Reid,” says one team source, “was never on their radar.”) Two years later, both Emery and Trestman are fired. In comes a 37-year-old Ryan Pace as GM with a crusty John Fox. (“He’s motherfucking everybody in the building, saying ‘As far as I’m concerned, everybody here’s a 5-11 team.’ And then Foxy goes 6-10.”) The next year, Chicago goes 3-13 and selects Mitchell Trubisky over Patrick Mahomes and Deshaun Watson. Fox, a lame duck, is fired the next year. Matt Nagy is hired.
And if there is one common denominator when it comes to these Bears, it’s a new head coach inheriting someone else’s quarterback.
Pace and Nagy, lame ducks, are allowed to trade up for Justin Fields.
In comes Ryan Poles and Matt Eberflus. Eventually, they tire of Fields.
Caleb Williams is deemed the savior in 2024.
Ben Johnson is deemed the savior in 2025.
“It’s like banging your head against the wall,” this longtime staffer continues, “doing the same thing over and over. When you’re supposed to turn right, George McCaskey takes a hard left every step of the way. … He tries to come off as this, everyman: ‘I’m just a fan and I’m not a football guy.’ And it’s like, ‘Well, maybe you should be.’ Would you buy a car dealership if you didn’t know anything about fucking cars? It just doesn’t make sense to me. So yeah, so here we are again.”
The order of operations when it comes to GM, head coach and quarterback is forever jumbled. Change for the sake of change has not worked. Brief hints of success — like a division title in 2018 — are not sustained. Chicago has one winning season in its last 12 years. The mess Jones created in Dallas has certainly opened up the public’s eyes to how certain owners think. Jones oversees the richest sports franchise in the world. Winning, frankly, is not Priority No. 1. As ex-Cowboy Brice Butler explained to us on the Go Long Pod, everyone on TV may be screaming their heads off. Internally, there’s minimal urgency to win in Big D.
In Chicago, fans will always gobble up season tickets. Off a 5-12 season, McCaskey raised ticket prices 10 percent.
“They could go 0-16,” says one source on the support staff, “and they’re still going to make a ton of money. The McCaskeys are never going to run out of revenue. The incentive to win — to more closely monitor their operation — I’m not sure what it is. Money is falling out of the sky.”
For now, the Bears sell harmony. Poles’ extension is an attempt at stability. Warren has McCaskey’s ear. In contrast, the other three teams in the NFC North are well-oiled machines. The Green Bay Packers don’t have an owner and their first-year president, Ed Policy, just greenlit the acquisition of Parsons. GM Brian Gutekunst and head coach Matt LaFleur enter Year 7 together. The Minnesota Vikings and Detroit Lions both have solid hierarchies with their respective owners hiring the right GM/HC combinations. Kwesi Adofo-Mensah/Kevin O’Connell and Brad Holmes/Dan Campbell all cleaned up their buildings. Players in Minnesota hated going to work for Mike Zimmer, while Campbell changed everything in Detroit.
Which brings us back to the Bears’ latest twinkle of sanguinity: Ben Johnson.
Yes, there’s a chance this thing can still turn around.
One hundred percent of the people Go Long chatted with for this series sing the praises of Johnson. One ex-Bears coach who’s known Johnson for years says that if any one coach can resuscitate this slumping organization, it’s Johnson. “A gem,” he calls him. X’s and O’s are one thing, but he sees value in Johnson witnessing firsthand how a team flounders (with Adam Gase in Miami) and flourishes (with Campbell in Detroit). “That rubs off on you,” he says, “and only adds to his arsenal.” One former Bears exec believes the bold Johnson will read through any and all bureaucratic nonsense weighing these Bears down.
For all the nice things said at a podium, he knows Johnson isn’t in town because of pure belief in Warren or Poles.
He was paid $13 million per year to fix the mess. When it comes to anything happening those three hours on a Sunday? Ben Johnson has the power.
“He isn’t going to take their shit,” this exec says. “People tell me that every day that are still there. It’s not how he’s wired. Even the veterans are like, ‘Don't fuck with this coach.’ In a good way, in a healthy way.”
Last year’s interim coach, Thomas Brown, was wired the same way. Yet by that time — with five weeks left? — it was too late to change Caleb Williams. Too late to instill a philosophy at all. Johnson has had the benefit of a full offseason and full training camp to set a brand-new standard. He’ll challenge Williams in ways Williams has never been challenged before. This offensive wiz isn’t going to take a hacksaw to his playbook like the previous staff did. It’s on the QB to keep up. As noted previously, Chicago’s personnel moves through the offseason have his fingerprints all over them. King’s growing influence in the front office is also a good sign. He’s been steadily rising up the ranks in the Bears front office since 2015 — has seen grave mistakes up close — and draws high marks around the league.
Now, if the former Lions OC who’d lock down in the laboratory to find all answers to all problems can stand in front of a room of 53 players and truly lead, perhaps the Bears did find their one and only savior.
On paper, a talented quarterback and a brilliant playcaller is math most of the 32 NFL teams would take into any season.
In Chicago, it’s never that simple. Even those who love the new coach’s no-BS tone are skeptical that any coach could save the franchise as currently constructed. Disarray in one area of the building has a cryptic way of infecting the next, and the next, until debilitating mistakes are made and the same ticket-holders declaring “Let Poles Cook!” and “In Caleb We Trust!” are again demanding McCaskey sell the team.
“You wonder why they haven’t been able to fucking win a Super Bowl in 40 years,” says one staffer who still remembers the good days, “and they haven’t been able to win a playoff game in almost 15 years? Look no further. It’s a clown show.”
There’s a long pause.
“This is where the 2025 Bears arrive. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Holy shit. That was epic. Great story Tyler. The Bears are fucked. Poles will find a way to throw Johnson under the bus. Which is a shame because he is going to be a good coach in the league whether it winds up being in Chicago we will see. Poles is an asshole. He no doubt rose through the NFL equity mandates and is taking full advantage of it. Knowing if he ever gets fired I’ll be waiting for him to call the Bears ownership racist. What a horror show it must be to work there. I know I couldn’t do it. I’m shocked
Truly great work. I've been a diehard washington fan my entire life but wasn't alive for the glory days. With the arrival of Jayden Daniel's I finall have hope. If JD wins us a super bowl, Washington should legitimately send Ryan Poles a ring. What an absolute MORON. Absolutely loved reading this and am very excited for your future stories. Great Work Tyler.