You're up Caleb Williams

The Chicago Bears believe they've finally found their QB in Year 105. Drafting Caleb Williams, however, is only the beginning. Go Long sifts through the rubble... and looks ahead to the future.

Illustration by Brave Buffalo

I: All falls apart

The most ballyhooed draft pick in the history of the Chicago Bears is wasting no time ushering in his own signature celebration.

Whenever cameras are near, Caleb Williams curls his five fingers inward for a “bear claw.”

Sometimes, he adds a scowling snarl for effect. Other times, his expression is emotionless. But he’s bringing the claw everywhere — the private jet with wide receiver Rome Odunze, a Chicago Cubs game, a Chicago Sky game, Halas Hall — and it’s either insane nobody in the Bears’ 105-year existence has made this a trend before or it’s Gen Z cringe fit for the 14-year-olds on TikTok. Either way, the claw is here to stay and everyone should get used to a quarterback who’s unlike any No. 1 pick before him.  

The nail-painting. The fashion. The postgame puddle of tears. If scouts entered a football laboratory dead-set on creating a player who’s the diametric antithesis of everything Ditka and Butkus and Monsters of the Midway, it’d be USC’s flamboyant flamethrower. Surviving this market requires a rare layer of mental toughness. Expectations have butchered quarterbacks past. If Williams leaps into the stands to cry in his mother’s lap after a crushing late-season loss at Soldier Field, he’s got a better chance of being shoved by an eight-beers-deep diehard than gently consoled.

This could all combust in grisly fashion.

When it became clear the Chicago Bears and Williams were on a collision course at the No. 1 overall pick in the 2024 NFL Draft, those fans filling the stadium chanted “We Want Fields!” as if informing ownership that Justin Fields had officially passed their final hazing ritual for full initiation into some Delta Da Bears fraternity.

GM Ryan Poles could’ve pro’d and con’d his brain into knots and chosen more familiar quarterback terrain. But to escape a century-plus of quarterback purgatory, a Big Bang was always needed. A prospect unlike anything the franchise has experienced. A prospect who’ll make people uncomfortable. That’s most certainly the 6-foot-1, 217-pound kid from Washington D.C., who bears a striking resemblance to the GOAT-in-progress Chicago bypassed in 2017: Patrick Mahomes.

Hall of Famer Warren Moon leaps right into this comparison.

“Very creative, very talented,” Moon says. “He’s tough and he can throw it with all the arm angles. He doesn’t have to be set. He’s a miniature Pat Mahomes. He’s probably better than Pat Mahomes coming out of college.”

One scout who’s tracked Williams closely describes the quarterback as a supercharged Donovan McNabb. He believes. He sees Williams as the face of the Bears for years.

One coach who’s been with Williams the last three years — USC’s Dennis Simmons, the team’s assistant head coach and passing game coordinator — heard other players on the roster call the QB “generational.” At first, he was dubious. That’s a bold statement spewed far too liberally in today’s sports lexicon. The more he worked with Williams, the more he agreed.

“If there is someone that is transcendent or generational,” Simmons says, “he would fit in that category.”  

Hit on this pick, and nothing’s the same in this city ever again.

Of course, this is how it begins in the Windy City. Draft-day hugs with Roger Goodell and the spike in both jersey sales and season tickets always darken into more of a tragic drama. Brighter days may finally be on the horizon for the Chicago Bears. The roster around Williams is ready to win — now. He’s throwing to arguably the best trio of receivers in the NFL: D.J. Moore, Keenan Allen and Odunze.

To deliver on the hype, these Bears must learn from those Bears.

Drafting the “transcendent” talent, the Mini Mahomes, is only the beginning because so much more goes into the ascent of a superstar quarterback.

Especially in Chicago.

Missing on Mahomes was an egregious error for all 10 teams atop that fateful draft. But it’s also true that the issues always run deeper than who a team drafts or does not. To figure out how this can finally go right, we’ll look back at how everything has managed to go so very, very wrong in Part I then look ahead to how everything can go right in Part II. This story is the culmination of several conversations with people from all sides of the Bears organizational apparatus — front office, the coaching staff, players, experts.

The best way one longtime Bears exec can explain the team’s issues? Think of it in thirds.

All 33.3-percent factors prove equally deadly.

• Bad personnel evaluation.

• Organizational dysfunction.

• Pressure of the market.

“It is f--king hard to play in this city at that position because as soon as you play two or three bad games, you’re the worst mother--ker on the planet and it comes down heavy,” this former Bears exec says. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the New York Jets and the Chicago Bears are the two teams that have a hardest time finding quarterbacks because you better have the guy who’s wired right. And talented.”

Ineptitude has driven this city to desperation mode. On Draft Eve, the unveiling of plans for a new $4.6 billion stadium were kicked off with prayer. Rev. Charlie Dates of Salem Baptist Church straight-up asked God to get the Bears back to a Super Bowl.

Twenty-four hours later, Williams was the pick.

Williams is the man carrying the franchise on his shoulders now.

“I’m not Jesus,” Simmons says, “but I could say this for sure: I wouldn’t bet against him.”

One thing’s for certain: This is dangerous terrain.

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The scene is pulled straight from football cinema. Soldier Field. NFC Wild Card. Forty-eight seconds left. The 12-4 Chicago Bears trotting onto the field, in the January chill, down 16-15. This is their chance to dethrone the defending champs, the Philadelphia Eagles, and barnstorm toward the team’s elusive second Super Bowl title.  

More specifically, this is Mitchell Trubisky’s opportunity to join Bears lore.

No nerves. No apprehension. Trubisky, confident as ever, steps into the pocket to deliver one of the best throws you’ll see from any quarterback in such a moment. Seconds tick off the clock — 42… 41… 40 — as the second-year passer feathers a 25-yarder to Allen Robinson between two defensive backs. It’s a corner route. But Trubisky brilliantly places the ball on the wide receiver’s inside back-shoulder. One hair off? He’s intercepted. Overthink for a split-second? He’s sacked. Upon release, the 24-year-old from Mentor, Ohio is blasted in the midsection.

Trubisky finishes 26 of 43 for 303 yards with a score in Playoff Start No. 1.

Nobody will remember any of this, of course.

The lasting memory of Jan. 6, 2019 isn’t a sight… it’s a sound. It’s the double-doink of Cody Parkey’s 43-yard field goal attempt ricocheting off the left upright and crossbar. Game over. As the life drained out of the stadium to audible gasps of horror, head coach Matt Nagy stared straight ahead in disbelief. Mouth, agape. Split the uprights on this kick and the Bears felt damn good about bullying the Los Angeles Rams in the divisional round of the playoffs the next week. They possessed the cheat codes to pantsing Sean McVay’s high-flying offense, embarrassing the Rams earlier that season, 15-6. The defensive blueprint was later adopted by Bill Belichick in a 13-3 title win.

“That,” Robinson laments, “was a Super Bowl-caliber team.”

Losing on a kick stung, but there was no reason to stay depressed for long. This Bears defense was loaded. Trubisky, the No. 2 overall pick, was already a Pro Bowler in his second season. Was he incinerating defenses like that frizzy-haired quarterback in KC? No. But he was ascending and everybody in the building shared the same vision for the future. Nagy was the Coach of the Year; GM Ryan Pace the Executive of the Year. About a half-hour after the “Double Doink,” Pace asked Nagy point-blank if the Bears can win a Super Bowl with Trubisky. His answer was an affirmative yes. Everybody was given a few weeks to calm down from the crushing loss and then Pace gathered personnel and coaches together for February meetings.

The GM told everybody that he wanted honest evaluations, even letting the coaches know they wouldn’t be offending him by grading a draft pick poorly. Only harsh honesty would get these Bears over the top. The No. 1 objective: Figuring out if Trubisky’s first year with Nagy was a sign of things to come. In 14 starts, the quarterback completed 66.6 percent of his passes for 3,223 yards with 24 touchdowns and 12 interceptions. He also ran for 421 yards and three scores.

The coaches believed. The coaches, one source says, graded Trubisky “way higher” than the personnel staff. Whereas members on the personnel side viewed Trubisky as a “win-with starter,” the coaches gave Trubisky red grades. Which meant they viewed him as a Pro Bowl-level quarterback who could win a Super Bowl. The only color higher was blue.

“All positive,” one person in those meetings recalls. “All glowing.”

Then, in May, a tweak was made to the coaching staff. A celebrated tweak.

Veteran coach Brad Childress was brought in as a senior offensive assistant.

The previous training camp, Childress helped Nagy install his offense and the two were football kin in Kansas City. With defensive coordinator Vic Fangio taking the head-coaching job with the Denver Broncos, it made sense for the Bears to bring in another grizzled coach who has survived the NFL’s inevitable haymakers to the abdomen. Childress coached under Andy Reid in both Philly (1999- ’05) and KC (2013- ’17), while serving as the Minnesota Vikings’ head coach (2006- ’10) in-between. He knew playoff heartbreak and, most importantly, he had been around some of the game’s top QBs: McNabb, Alex Smith, Brett Favre.

The Bears heard stories of Childress politicking and causing drama in KC, but looked past it. Off an NFC North title, the thinking was that Childress could be the sounding board that helps get this roster over the hump. This was a man that Nagy had leaned on as a father figure in the past. The head coach promised that Childress would “oversee everything” and praised him as a coach who’d force him to look at situations in a completely different way.

The Halas Hall doors opened wide for a fresh, uncensored voice.

“He’s not scared to tell me when I’m doing something maybe not wrong, but when I maybe should think about doing something else,” Nagy said then. “He’ll give me advice. He’s not worried about who I am or what I do or what my title is.

“He’ll pull me aside at the right time and say, ‘Hey, maybe think about doing this.’ Or, ‘Did you think about that?’ And I love that. It keeps you where you need to be.”

That’s one way to put it.

Here’s how one member of the Bears front office recalls the coaching addition: “We bring in Brad Childress and he completely poisons our building.”

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Very early, Childress warned Nagy not to hitch his wagon to Trubisky. He cited various personality test scores that other teams use, one of which Trubisky did not score well on. Childress even printed the scores out for offensive coaches to see. His point: This data brought to life their worst suspicions on film.

Pace was understandably irate because right here is how coaches and GMs create problems out of thin air to get themselves fired. The total 180 made no sense.

Naturally, Nagy listened to his mentor and, sources say, drastically changed his tune on Trubisky. The first practice in camp didn’t seem eventful to most, but the head coach fumed. He was pissed. He started ridiculing the quarterback to others in the organization, practice to practice, clearly losing belief at warp speed. Bad energy that spilled into the season opener, a hideous 10-3 loss to the Green Bay Packers at Soldier Field on Sunday Night Football. Trubisky looked nothing like the quarterback nearly piloting a playoff win 242 days ago in this same stadium. He averaged 5.1 yards per attempt, was sacked five times, posted a 62.1 rating and threw the game-sealing pick to safety Adrian Amos in the left corner of the end zone with 1:58 left.

Nagy might’ve had good reason to flip. Memories of Mahomes pulling off ridiculous stunts in practice were surely on his mind. He helped the Chiefs QB develop as a rookie. Maybe Childress did the team a noble service in pointing out substantive flaws bound to hold Trubisky back. Even Trubisky backers in-house agree he would not have become an elite QB. Trubisky detractors laud Nagy’s quarterback acumen. But time machines do not exist. At this exact juncture, 2019, it behooved all parties involved to get the absolute most they could out of their investment before giving up.

Bare minimum, internal belief would’ve helped Trubisky progress instead of regress.

“Before we even start the first game of the season, the head coach had major red-ass for the quarterback,” said one Bears source with a front-row seat to their interactions. “He played how he was treated that year. Bottom line.”

Everything was positive. Until, it wasn’t. Nagy was soon shredding Trubisky in front of the entire team in meetings.

The first person to realize a team is losing belief in a quarterback is always the quarterback. After dislocating his left shoulder with a slight labrum tear, four games in, Trubisky had a chance to reflect on the state of affairs with others in the organization. The Bears were 3-1 but — up close? — multiple Bears sources say this is when the quarterback’s confidence started to wane. He knew something was up. He could tell the coaches were losing faith. The Bears had many resources available. Mental coaches and sports psychologists were becoming the rage leaguewide, but Trubisky never recaptured his ’18 form in ’19 and multiple sources maintain it had a lot more to do with confidence than anything physical.

“He literally just snapped,” said one source close to the QB. “He cracked.”

Pressure in the market built. The quarterback Chicago passed on, Mahomes, won MVP in ’18 and his first title in ’19.

In-fighting on the coaching staff did not help. After Trubisky missed one throw in a game against the Giants, wide receivers coach Mike Furrey leapt up and down and it pissed off others on staff. Such demonstrative behavior was the norm in practices, too. Deep down, quarterbacks coach Dave Ragone could relate to his quarterback’s struggles. He was one himself. For a period, one source says Furrey and Ragone refused to even speak to each other.

Said this source: “When you’ve got coaches not talking to coaches — forget the players — you can’t win when your organization’s like that.”

There was no questioning Trubisky’s desire to lead. He had researched leadership styles, eating up Sam Walker’s “The Captain Class. For 11 years, Walker studied leaders on the best sports teams around the globe. Not only did Trubisky screenshot pages from the book to save in his phone as reference — he even strummed up a relationship with Walker. The author would text him videos, for example, of Tim Duncan interacting with teammates. Taking a cue from “The Water Carrier” in the book, Trubisky made an effort know everyone in the Bears building, from Jorge (the Bears’ smoothie-maker) to Roberto (a janitor). Trubisky was the point man rallying teammates together for dinners.

Robinson, the team’s star wideout, insists his QB tried to “exhaust the tank” as the leader of the team.

Not all QBs do.

“And that’s something,” Robinson adds, “I always respect him for.”

Give the quarterback man-to-man coverage, and he’ll tear you up. Robinson points to Trubisky’s performances against Lions. In ’18, ’19 and ’20, Trubisky went 4-1 against the division foe while completing 71 percent of his passes for 1,375 yards with 14 touchdowns and one interception. But camouflage your intent — make the picture blurry — and he wasn’t the same quarterback. Coordinators who relied on disguise and deception gave him problems. Engaging in pre-snap warfare was not his forte.

Trubisky played through his torn labrum with a harness, and it was painful.

Those Bears finished 8-8 in 2019. Offensive coordinator Mark Helfrich was fired.

In retrospect, Robinson sees a world in which the Bears offense could have powered through the malaise. He wishes he would’ve spoken up and convinced Nagy to trust his system, trust his quarterback, trust that this thing can turn around. Think positively. Because, to him, the season wasn’t a total trainwreck. This system — the KC system — had built-in “tools,” he says. As the Bears broke the huddle, he’d tell Trubisky to signal a fade route if they got a specific look. Trubisky would see it, make the audible, and these two were gaining chemistry.

“Which is huge to me,” Robinson says. “You’re talking about cohesiveness. You’re talking about quarterback-to-skill position. That’s big.”

Robinson had 98 receptions for 1,147 yards with seven touchdowns and saw value in players like Anthony Miller and Tariq Cohen and David Montgomery growing within a system.

“If I went to Nagy and was like, ‘This can be figured out and things are straight and improving,’” Robinson says, “I think it’s a totally different outcome. He needed to hear the confidence from somebody that he also believed in. And me and Nagy had a great relationship. If I have told him that? Everything could have been different.

“I think we started to get off that train. When I say ‘we,’ I mean the entire organization, I think we got off that train too quickly.”

The train most certainly left the station when that 2019 season concluded.

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Soon into the offseason, Trubisky told Nagy he wanted to come in with his playbook to discuss what works, what doesn’t work and piece together a gameplan for 2020. Even after Childress poisoned the well, even with Nagy looking for an escape hatch, Trubisky sincerely wanted to figure this thing out.

He brought notes. He waited in Nagy’s office. And waited. And waited. And the coach never showed.

“A complete unwillingness to even try to make it work,” one Bears front-office member says. “Being that young and immature of a head coach, you’re firing yourself, dude. You’re firing everybody.”

What came next was a nonsensical string of decisions bound to fuel more dysfunction.

Only dysfunction.

On Jan. 13, 2020, the Bears hired Bill Lazor as OC. His scheme was rooted in predetermined decisions more than pre-snap mind games. The goal: Play fast. In theory, Trubisky would shine in such a system. But then, into mid-March, the Bears traded a fourth-round pick for Nick Foles. In theory, he’d shine in Nagy’s offense. He’d play chess at the line of scrimmage. It didn’t matter that many people on the personnel side viewed the former Super Bowl MVP as a human piñata behind a shoddy Jacksonville Jaguars offensive line the year prior. At this point, Pace wanted Nagy to have a quarterback on the roster he believed in.

Training camp, again, proved to be a bad omen. Lazor wanted to run his offense. Foles wanted to run the KC system. Many times, Foles would try checking in and out of plays and the rest of the offense couldn’t keep up.

“We created issues for ourselves because it was like a hybrid,” Robinson says. “It created a lot of friction and a lack of identity. As opposed to — win, lose or draw — we knew our identity, where the tools were and where the bones were buried in the offense prior to that.”

Trubisky was benched at Atlanta midway through the third game of the regular season. Robinson can still remember Nagy telling Foles, in the moment, to run his offense even though the unit was fresh off drilling down Lazor’s X’s and O’s all summer. Furrey took a swipe at Trubisky after the comeback win. In reference to one of Foles’ back-shoulder completions, he said: “Obviously we haven’t had a lot of those the last two or three years.”

Perhaps true, but now the Bears were trying to run two offenses at once.

A colossal mess that hastened one of the most disgusting stretches of offense in modern Bears history. They lost six straight games. Again, Robinson wishes he spoke up. By then, he could see that Nagy was unsure if anyone believed in his scheme. The boo’s got louder. And louder. Trubisky was re-installed as the starter, Nagy relinquished the offense to Lazor, and instead of flooding the quarterback’s mind with an overload of decisions, the offense was simplified. Chicago cut the field in half and feasted on a menu of bad defenses via wide zone, bootlegs, play-action, movement that accentuated Trubisky’s strengths.

Chicago scored 30+ points in four straight games. Which, in Chicago, is akin to getting struck by lightning.

The Bears got to 8-7. One source believes Nagy re-seized playcalling duties both against Green Bay in Week 17 and the New Orleans Saints in the wild-card round. The Bears lost 35-16. Then, 21-9.

Season over.

Trubusky Era over.

Each of those 33.3 percents are to blame.   

Bad evaluation. Obviously, the Bears should have drafted Mahomes. The QB they selected has been a journeyman backup since. Organizational chaos. There was zero reason for the Bears to hyper-analyze their own belief in Trubisky after a 12-4 season. A formula existed. Instead, coaches flipped, the QB’s confidence caved, the scheme became a week-to-week Rubik’s cube, a gnarly defense was wasted, Robinson’s best years passed him by, Khalil Mack too, and the Bears went 8-8 in back-to-back years. Pressure mounted. Yes, playing in Chicago is a different beast.

The market demands a combination of even-keeled coaches and crocodile-skinned quarterbacks.

Remarkably, the Bears managed to do everything dead wrong — again — into the 2021 offseason.

Pace and Nagy were both retained on one-year terms and the owner’s edict was clear: Win now or you’re fired. Unable to pry Russell Wilson out of Seattle, the two were then permitted to mortgage a future first-round pick (and fourth- and fifth-rounders) to move up nine slots and draft a quarterback at No. 11 overall: Ohio State’s Justin Fields.

This made no sense to people on both sides of the equation — personnel and coaching.

“You don’t let the GM trade up to draft quarterback,” says one Bears source in those draft meetings. “You just don't let him do it. You are asking to be stuck in quarterback purgatory. You know you’re going to fire him and you’re picking 11th. It’s not like we were picking the first quarterback in the draft. We were taking a swing on Mac Jones or Justin Fields. And there’s a really good chance that the next regime that comes in isn’t going to like him.”

If the plan was to draft a quarterback, one ex-Bears assistant coach adds, then fire the head coach or give him an extension. Give him a real chance to develop a project.

Instead, the Bears chose purgatory.

“The Bears are just so f--ked up,” this coach says.  

When Fields was drafted, his celebration was solemn. He lifted himself off the couch ever-so slowly and hugged family members.

It was now his turn to fail as the Chicago Bears starting quarterback, and supply many lessons for the next regime’s stab at the next quarterback.

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There was a plan. As George McCaskey jerked the franchise toward guaranteed anguish this offseason of 2021, the GM and head coach on thin ice talked themselves into a feasible plan. After trying so hard to be like the Chiefs — and failing — Pace and Nagy believed they now had the correct infrastructure to win in the short term (Andy Dalton as their Alex Smith) and the long term (Fields as their Mahomes).

Like most QB plans ‘round here, this one burnt to ash. Fast.

In Week 2, Dalton took off on a 14-yard scramble and hopped awkwardly out of bounds. Nobody touched him but his knee buckled on the tarp covering, causing a bone bruise that thrust Fields into the starting lineup a full season prematurely. “He was not ready at all!” one assistant coach recalls. “No. No. No. No. Not even close to being ready. Not even close.” The Bears were so determined to keep Fields on the sideline, they even considered making him the No. 3 during the summer. In the end, coaches viewed scout-team reps as the No. 2 as too valuable.

Now, with one sideline slip, he was the starter.

“If Andy Dalton doesn’t go down, we’re still there,” this ex-assistant says. “That was a good team. We would’ve won 10 games.”

Robinson, playing on the franchise tag, agrees. He can count on one hand the number of passes he even caught from Fields before Fields took over. Two? Maybe three? The vet figured it’d be tough to evolve with a rookie QB. “And,” he adds, “it ended up being pretty tough.” It got to the point where Robinson had no clue what type of offense the Bears were even running anymore. Part Nagy, part Lazor, all survival mode. Coaches tried to hide Fields as long as they could, had no choice but to take the kid gloves off, the Bears finished 6-11 and — surprise, surprise — everyone was fired.

The Vet-and-Rookie model always sounds so foolproof. Within the Bears’ own division, the Packers have famously transitioned Brett Favre to Aaron Rodgers to Jordan Love over the course of 32 years (and counting). There’s football logic behind the Atlanta Falcons’ decision to sign Kirk Cousins and draft Michael Penix Jr. After slumming at the position for three years, nobody should blame GM Terry Fontenot for going all-out at the most premium position in sports.

But it’s also silly to expect all parties involved to hold hands, sing songs and watch film together in harmony. You’re welcoming potential volatility.

Egos are involved. There’s no way to accurately predict how the dynamic will play out inside of a quarterback room. Green Bay’s Brian Gutekunst hoped Love’s presence would motivate an all-time grudge-holder… and he was right. Rodgers won two more MVPs. Meanwhile, in Philadelphia, the presence of Jalen Hurts shook Carson Wentz. The incumbent was never the same. One source assures Cousins is not happy in Atlanta. We’ll see how he channels these emotions.

On paper? Fields learns from one QB (Dalton) who had started 142 games and another QB (Foles) who slayed Tom Brady in the Super Bowl. A rookie’s dream.

In reality? “F--king toxic as hell,” says one source. “They never were together. It was always Andy and Nick walking side by side and Justin always 15 yards behind them.”

There were several arguments amongst the QBs. Once, per one source, Foles was trying to teach something to Fields in the QB room and — upon turning toward the rookie — Foles realized Fields wasn’t even paying attention. His head was down. At that point, Foles was done trying to play mentor. The two could not stand each other. Around the building, one source says, “you cut the tension with a knife.”

The rookie quarterback was obviously the last man standing as the merry go ‘round turned yet again.

In came a new GM (Ryan Poles) and a new head coach (Matt Eberflus) that multiple sources cite as an arranged marriage by agent Trace Armstrong. These two inherited a previous regime’s quarterback and tried to make it work… like everyone before them. The clearest path to success in the NFL is for the Core Four to be aligned. Owner. GM. Head coach. Quarterback. Chicago has been forever allergic to such top-down synergy. Ryan Pace took on Jay Cutler’s contract and tried to make it work with the veteran QB for two seasons. Matt Nagy inherited the quarterback selected by Pace and John Fox (Trubisky). The new bosses in town then tried to make it work with Fields for two seasons.

It’s true Fields was thrown into the fray before he was ready, true that a lame-duck regime stunted his development and true that he flashed blistering speed through the ‘22 and ‘23 seasons. All YouTube-friendly highlights are enough ammo for anybody to think, “Imagine Justin Fields with… (Insert QB Guru here).” We’ve all bitten the juicy minnow on the lure. But he also has started 38 pro games. Despite increased weaponry — hello, D.J. Moore — Fields’ competition percentage barely improved (58.9 to 60.4 to 61.4). He has thrown more than one touchdown in seven of 38 starts and eclipsed 300 yards passing only once.

Fields ran for 1,000+ yards in Year 2 but, as one ex-Bears coach observed, he was more “chicken with his head cut off.” This was never sustainable.

Fundamentals can improve. That’s physical.

Processing is a different animal. Processing is more ingrained.

This is why both coaches and personnel agree that a redshirt year would not have changed much.

“When you watch him, watch his eyes,” says one of Fields’ former coaches. “He tries to see the whole thing and doesn’t see anything. His eyes are all over the place and it’s just really hard to watch. It’s just bad football.”

Nonetheless, the Bears doubled down on Fields by dealing the No. 1 pick in ’22 to the Carolina Panthers for a package of picks.

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One league source plugged into the Bears first showers Fields with praise. He calls him a “phenomenal athlete” who throws a gorgeous ball. But he’s seen the quarterback, down-in and down-out, fail to decode the defense pre-snap and anticipate where to throw the ball post-snap. To him, it’s impossible for Fields — for any QB — to enhance that inner processor. “Maybe you can add some RAM or extra memory to your computer,” he says, “but whatever processor you have, that’s what you have.” He saw the same issue with Trubisky, who he labels “a phenomenal backup quarterback in the NFL.” And as a receiver who’s spent his career with Blake Bortles, Trubisky and Fields, the vet Robinson may be the most qualified subject when it comes to quarterback processing.

Like Trubisky, he remembers Bortles tearing up man-to-man coverage in Jacksonville. They enjoyed spurts of success. But make your defense fuzzy — sit back in confusing Cover 2 zones — and, now, your defense is in control. Quarterbacks lacking a processor are “a sequence behind,” he explains. The ball comes out a tick late.

He does not believe a quarterback can manually acquire a processor in their NFL career. You have it or you don’t.  

“You’ve got to be able to see it all at once,” Robinson says, “and see those windows start to open. As a quarterback, let’s say I’ve read it wrong. Now, I’m stuck on this side and the ball is going to be a little bit in the dirt or high because I’m trying to fit it into these windows that aren’t there. … He has to be able to see it. He has to be able to anticipate it.”

The Bears tried. They clearly wanted Fields to function within the pocket in Year 3 under OC Luke Getsy. Two games in, Fields took a stand and, OK, it’s hard not to see things from his point of view. The quarterback felt neutered. Felt himself becoming a “robotic” player he is not and very publicly declared at a midweek press conference that he was not on-board with this brand of quarterbacking.

“My goal this week,” Fields said, “is just to say ‘F it’ and just go out there and play football how I know how to play football.”

One longtime NFL quarterbacks coach could not believe his ears. To him, this was Fields telling the entire league he was incapable of reading a defense. Which is fine if the goal is score 14 points a game with a few plays sure to loop on the highlight reel.

“You can’t function like that on a week-to-week basis and expect to win — playing street ball,” said this Super Bowl-winning assistant. “You just can’t. You have to run some sort of an offense.

“He’d be a great single-wing quarterback if that was still around.”

That press conference was an extension of the Fields others experienced behind the scenes. One source plugged into the Bears locker room says the widely held narrative that Fields was a strong leader is inflated, citing the quarterback as “a surface level dude” who didn’t develop authentic relationships with teammates. He called reports that teammates love Fields “bullshit,” adding that the quarterback carried himself with an undeserved aura and lacks emotional intelligence for someone who’s been a quarterback so long.

Another source said Fields lacked a “presence” in the building.

Fields vowed to power through the 2023 season on his terms — freelancing — and there were moments of bliss. He threw for 282 yards and four touchdowns in a 40-20 win over the Washington Commanders. Yet rather than trade the quarterback right then, when his value was highest, the Bears let the trade deadline pass on by. Fields dislocated his shoulder and thumb against Minnesota, missed four games, and finished 4-3. Teammates sang his praises. More than half of the fan base clearly wanted him back as the starter.

The harsh reality of his play style, however, had not changed a bit.

Fields dazzled on the ground while doing little through the air. Through this seven-game stretch, Fields didn’t throw for more than one touchdown in a game. He completed more than 20 passes once. Staring down the barrel of Caleb Williams with the No. 1 pick, via Carolina, Poles did the right thing.

The GM wasn’t ambiguous. He made it clear in February that Chicago was moving on and, quickly, the question then became whether or not USC’s Williams even wanted to play for the Bears.

Considering the organization’s been such a tire fire at the position, it’d be hard to blame anyone for going full Eli Manning. When Williams spoke publicly for the first time, at the NFL Combine, he sounded open to becoming a Bear. He was both unfazed by the team’s century of futility at the position (“I tend to create history and rewrite history”) and comparisons to Michael Jordan (“I think I can reach certain points like that”). But even then, he sounded suspicious.

Asked what he wanted to learn about the Bears when he meets with the team, he sounded like a student fully versed in his history on the franchise.  

“Do you want to win?” Williams says. “That’s it.”

From afar, one former Bears exec understood the prospect’s skepticism, saying that this team flatly has an ability to made good quarterbacks look awful strictly because of their cozy relationship with total disorder.

Over the next two weeks, Fields’ trade market was ripe as the forgotten banana in the pantry. He was dealt to the Pittsburgh Steelers for a conditional sixth-round pick.

The NFL apparently agreed with that “single-wing QB” assessment.

The NFL, it should be noted, has been wrong before. The brightest offensive coaches should be able to squeeze the absolute most out of special talents at the position. To the extreme, the Baltimore Ravens completely changed their offense for Lamar Jackson, under OC Greg Roman, and he won an MVP. They changed it again, under OC Todd Monken, and he won a second MVP. Athletic quarterbacks can shine in the right system. Jackson, however, was a far superior passer. Trubisky was a far superior passer. Coordinators aren’t in a rush to acquire quarterbacks with no desire to run their system.

In this sense, Arthur Smith’s run-heavy scheme should at least give Fields his best chance to succeed. If he sees the field, that is. Fields will begin this next chapter of his career as Russell Wilson’s backup. Running back Jaylen Warren even revealed on Cam Heyward’s podcast that the team is considering using Fields as a kick returner to take advantage of the league’s rule changes.   

Not quite what Fields envisioned when he became a Bear in his living room.  

Exactly 2,555 days after Mitchell Trubisky took the stage and 1,092 days after Fields slowly ambled to his feet, the 2024 Chicago Bears drafted another quarterback.

His name was Caleb Williams. He glided briskly to the main stage in a navy blue Chrome Hearts suit, screamed a high-pitch scream with WWE flair and screamed again upon embracing the commissioner. After popping on a Bears hat for the first time, Williams pumped his fist in front of the 275,000 fans.

He held the jersey high, fluttered it in the air and blew kisses.

The wait has been long but these Chicago Bears just might’ve just gotten this whole quarterback thing right.

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II: ‘Mini Mahomes’

This scout first points to Williams’ true freshman season at the University of Oklahoma. The QB had a hard time sitting behind Spencer Rattler. An extremely hard time. It didn’t matter to him that Rattler entered the 2021 season as the nation’s top Heisman Trophy contender — he was the superior talent, he deserved to play. Williams later opened up about this anger on The Pivot podcast, too. All Lincoln Riley told the QB was “Keep going.” Williams was livid. One other moment stood out to this scout, too. As a sophomore, at USC, Williams ran away with the Heisman Trophy and penciled himself in as a future No. 1 overall pick. In the Pac-12 Championship that season, the QB suffered a cut on his throwing hand and popped his hamstring on a 59-yard run all in the first quarter. Williams would later say his leg felt like an old rubber band.

USC lost, 47-24, with a fourth-quarter collapse.

But Williams’ decision to stay in this game to its bitter, painful end told this scout everything he needed to know.

“He wanted to finish the game,” this scout said. “I tend to appreciate a moment like that because he has his whole future riding on the health of his body and rather than being like, ‘You know what? I’m good,’ there was a degree of competitiveness and selflessness that he displayed throughout that game. Teams need to embrace and emphasize this more. The further you get away from the tape, the further these nails and fashion get enhanced.”

Pour every fiber of your being into a game — treat football like it is life or death — and, yeah, sob sessions are possible. Those tears were real.

Dennis Simmons has been at Williams’ side the last three years as Riley’s assistant head coach and passing game coordinator. It’s not the sublime talent he brings up first, either. Simmons extols the quarterback’s sincere desire to do everything in his power to win.

“Once you’re around him,” Simmons says, “you start to feel that energy pulsating off of him. You see that it’s part of his personality. When Caleb is a part of that organization, he is 100 percent part of that organization.”

Williams did not enjoy waiting for his opportunity but he also knew that whenever that moment presented itself he’d need to go full Tom Brady and render Rattler a collegiate Drew Bledsoe. Covid wiped out the QB’s senior year of high school football so, technically, Williams hadn’t taken the field as a starting quarterback in 23 months when Oklahoma faced Texas in the Red River Rivalry.

On fourth and 1 — down 28-7 — he entered the game and took a direct snap 66 yards to paydirt. Trapped by a swarm of orange jerseys Williams put on the Superman cape. Escaped.

“Chaos creates itself,” Simmons says. “He’s one of those guys that’s not going to panic.”

Rattler was benched. The Sooners won, 55-48. Rattler would transfer to South Carolina, and this cannon blast was a harbinger of everything to come. On to USC, Williams’ playmaking was unmatched in college football. He smoothly evaded rushers to gun 50-yarders downfield. The Mahomes comp applies. No play was dead with his free-spirited, backyard style of play. Williams would juke… duck… spin… waste defenders in Kill Bill fashion before rifling completions.

Athleticism rarely ever blends with arm strength to this extreme.

Against San Jose State, he dropped a shotgun snap, picked it up and casually unloaded a ball 55 yards through the air before getting creamed. When he did have time to unload one bomb vs. Stanford, Williams hurled it 65 yards through the air to Brenden Rice. There’s the 8.5 seconds of dancing around vs. Colorado before whistling a deep ball across his body deep. Or the 2-point play in OT vs. Arizona. A defender had the QB dead to rights near the sideline and — with one stutter step, one stiff arm and a pinch of pixie dust — Williams slithered on past him to nose the football over the goal line. It was so nonsensical the play-by-play announcer initially didn’t think he got in.

Or the time a Stanford D-end is face-to-face with Williams a millisecond after his run fake and the QB arched his back to gain an extra few inches of space and sidearm-sling a screen to his wide receiver.

Or the absurd escape vs. Utah. An untouched rusher met Williams immediately at the USC 2-yard line. He spun away — into his end zone — to avoid the sack, was greeted by a second defender, knifed back inside, met by a third defender at the 5-yard line, cut back outside and gained the sideline for 17 cartoonish yards as the announcer correctly opined: “Caleb Williams is absolutely ludicrous.”

Good luck mining for a more entertaining highlight reel. Williams is one of the most aesthetically mesmerizing quarterbacks in college football history. He dazzled without slipping into much danger, too. Williams completed 67 percent of his passes as USC’s starter, while throwing only 10 interceptions on 888 attempts. He scored 93 touchdowns and averaged 314.2 passing yards per game.

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Thirteen-minute YouTube clips, however, do not produce perennial playoff teams. To succeed long term, quarterbacks must thrive from the pocket. And last season? Williams went full Allen Iverson. USC’s offensive line too often collapsed, forcing him to create. Improvisation because the quarterback’s default mode. He often had no choice but to hoist fallaway jumpers and teardrops 30 times a game to carry his offense.

The electroshock is needed in Chicago, but so is a quarterback capable of processing an NFL defense post-Trubisky, post-Fields. So is a quarterback capable — and willing — of making the boring play. Repeatedly. That’s exactly what Mahomes did through his latest Super Bowl run. He embraced life as a game manager who reached into his bag of tricks when required.

This is the X-and-O conundrum central to Caleb Williams’ video-game style.

Exactly as Iverson needed to be a chucker with Aaron McKie, Eric Snow and Tyrone Hill as running mates, it appeared Williams had no choice but to create. Unquestionably, Williams developed bad habits that could bite him in the pros. It’s hard to imagine any quarterback spinning away from Nick Bosa at his own 2-yard line. The question: Can NFL coaching clean up those bad habits or will he try streetballing in the pros? Or worse: Did those wildly entertaining plays cover up a glitch in this quarterback’s sequencing? Athleticism masks the absence of processing only for so long.

Not everyone is sold that Williams can zip through progressions, including the man who threw for more yards in a season than anyone in Bears history.

Ahead of the draft, Erik Kramer wanted the Bears to either draft Drake Maye No. 1 or trade down for Bo Nix because — to him — these were the quarterbacks capable of playing within structure. He views North Carolina’s Maye as “every bit the athlete” as Williams outside of the pocket. Only bigger. Only stronger. To him, it’s not even close.

“You can’t watch an NFL game today without watching the West Coast passing game,” Kramer says. “Either guy would be awesome in that style. Plus, they can both create when stuff breaks down. And Caleb Williams, to me, he’s kind of a different version of the guy they just had: Justin Fields. He’s probably better than Justin, but I think he drops back — and this, for sure, was Justin Fields — he drops back, waits for the rush to come, then creates something. And you can’t sustain that in a length of time.”

Kramer prefers the quarterback capable of inducing a slow death, the quarterback who’ll make the correct play in-rhythm 25 times. Athleticism should be a bonus. He’s well aware that it’s certifiably bonkers that no Bears quarterback has broken his 1995 team record of 3,838 passing yards. As the NFL became exponentially pass-friendly the next three decades, the Bears remained dinosaurs. No, he does not believe the franchise is cursed.

In truth, he loves the talent on this roster and can see this group going on the same run as last year’s Detroit Lions.

The key is marrying the right offensive system with a quarterback who plays with anticipation and makes quick decisions.

Says Kramer: “It’s hard to lose with that combination.”

One astute league source very familiar with these Bears agrees with Kramer’s suspicions. He warns that Williams breaks the pocket prematurely — no way to make an NFL living — and then points out a quirk in Williams’ game. There are certain parts of the field that Williams avoids as a passer. He can count on one hand the number of times the QB threw the ball deep down the right side of the field from the pocket last season. (“Almost never. Everything he does in the pocket has to be over his left shoulder or down the middle underneath.”) Riley, he adds, carefully designed his week-to-week gameplans around the defect.

In the NFL, smart defensive coordinators expose such a weakness.

This was not a surgeon. Part of the Bears must at least be a little worried that there’s shades of quarterbacks past in Williams.

Warren Moon, the Hall of Famer who views Williams as a Mini Mahomes, knows the USC quarterback must dial back the improvisation because this chaos — NFL chaos — is different than anything Williams has faced to date. Extract No. 13 in red from a few of those highlights, drop him into a game that features edge rushers running the 40-yard dash in 4.4 seconds and 300-pounders running 4.8 and, no, the outcome isn’t so magical. They’ll mow you down.

“You’re not going to be able to run away from ‘em like you did in college,” Moon says. “You’ll be able to escape from time to time, but not the way he did in college. The speed out there is amazing. So, the more you can throw from structure, the more you can get the ball out of your hands and not have to take unnecessary hits the better.

“I’m hoping that he will be able to stay in more structure and get the ball out of his hands. See it quickly.”

Even when Williams is able to get rid of the ball, Moon knows there’s good chance he’ll get whacked. Playing this recklessly will take a physical toll. Moon is not advocating for Williams to transform into a statue, but if he bails on the pocket when he needs to — instead of when he wants to — the impact will be tenfold. Less is more.

The free blitzer will be left in his dust. The defense won’t see that breakaway speed coming.

There are promising signs. Williams’ USC pro day was thrilling as a Wednesday trip to the DMV. Remarkably subdued. Boring. There were no Zach Wilson moon shots, no Kyle Boller throws through the uprights from one knee at the 50-yard line. He dinked and dunked in a clear sign of self-awareness. Circus acts must serve as the dessert, not the entrée, to his NFL game. This was a good sign.

One scout was surprised Williams even held a pro day because he was obviously the No. 1 prospect.

Competitive fire may not be the only element of Williams’ game hidden beneath that shiny veneer. The coach with him every day — USC’s Simmons — is confident this QB can read the defense and play on-schedule. There will be faster edge rushers, new terminology and new wrinkles, but beneath these wow plays Simmons argues that Williams can absolutely play within structure.

“He’ll do what he needs to do to help his team win,” Simmons says, “so if that means dink and dunk, he’s going to dink and dunk. If that means, ‘Hey, I have to use my legs to extend the play and create more time to find somebody open down the field,’ then that’s what he’s going to do.”

Simmons told NFL scouts the same exact thing when they passed through campus and this isn’t the cliché college coach masquerading as a hype man. Simmons describes himself as straight-shooter who knows his “word carries weight.” Stretch the truth on any prospect, to any coach, and his future opinion won’t matter much. One scout who works this region of the country saw the same signs of processing. To him, this wasn’t a reckless Johnny Football, physically superior Vince Young, system-dependent RGIII or tunnel-visioned Fields. Williams is unique.

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All first-round picks are guaranteed to suffer. There will be a crushing last-second defeat, a dropped pass, a bad play call, many Jeff Ross-level, in-game roastings from linebackers regarding that nail polish. And did we mention this is Chicago? The current love affair between quarterback and fan base can turn. Fast. “Have a bad game and don’t want to talk to the media?” one former Bears exec says. “You’re done. You’ll get smothered here.” Not only will Williams be justifiably compared to Fields in 2024 and beyond. Bears fans will not forget that this team passed on the opportunity to draft Ohio State’s C.J. Stroud last spring in addition to everyone in this year’s class. There are scouts who view LSU’s Jayden Daniels as the best quarterback prospect. Maye takes his upside to Foxborough.

Upon arrival in So Cal, no doubt, expectations were high.

Williams has been skewered on social media.

After the lip-gloss backlash, he responded on X: “The wallet’s white. The phone is pink, the case is clear. Nails are clear. Lips are pink — your girl love ‘em!”

“So seeing negative comments,” one scout says, “he’s been through that before. He’s seen it. He’s dealt with it. I see the adjustment period being just fine for him.”

Maybe so. There are scouts who commend his father, Carl, for guiding his son to this point and scouts who view Dad as an enabler, as a snowplow parent who incubated Williams. This latter group is not so sure what will happen when NFL life blindsides him. Lions head coach Dan Campbell put this league best when he said that’s no light at the end of the tunnel — it’s a “freight train.” Nothing Williams has experienced in his football life comes to close to becoming the starting quarterback of the Chicago Bears. No wonder one league source plugged into the organization doesn’t mince words. He cringes at the thought of Williams sobbing uncontrollably in Mom’s arms. “If that’s what you want to do, fine,” he says. “But don’t do it in front of everybody.”

Simmons can only speak to the man he encountered each day and that’s a leader who showed up early and was one of the last players to leave. That’s a calloused competitor who “developed thick skin” all three years and cares deeply for his teammates. He didn’t compete in any drills at the Combine. Didn’t undergo any medical testing, either. But Williams did pretend to be a reporter playfully asking USC teammate Brenden Rice what it’s like to be Jerry Rice’s son. It was more than a light-hearted goof. Simmons knew Williams was genuinely trying to help a nervous teammate relax in the face of all those cameras.

Stories like these are why this scout is so bullish on Williams’ personality.

There’s an emotional intelligence to the current Bears QB that the previous one lacked.

“It’s not the rah-rah, in-your-face,” the scout says. “Don’t get me wrong, he can be that. But it’s more behind the scenes. It’s more empathetic. It’s effective, man. I’m excited to see what he does on the field and how he earns these guys respect.”

He’ll enter a unique huddle for a No. 1 overall pick, too.

Unlike David Carr on the expansion Houston Texans, he’ll have time to read the field. Unlike Andrew Luck, he’s not stepping into the cleats of a legend. Unlike Bryce Young in Carolina, he’ll look around and see talent. So much talent.

But unlike just about every top pick before him, he’ll face expectations to win. Now.

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We interrupt today’s Caleb-a-Palooza for a very sobering statement: Matthew Charles Eberflus is not one of the greatest coaches in NFL history. The Toledo, Ohio native who rose up the coaching ranks from Dallas Cowboys linebackers coach (2011- ’17) to Indianapolis Colts’ defensive coordinator (2018- ’21) to the Bears’ head man in 2022 was very much on the hot seat as late as November.

Here’s one more shocker. Set down that coffee. Fellow quarterbacks Tyson Bagent and Brett Rypien are not Jedi masters. The two have a combined seven touchdowns to Alex Smith’s 299. They are backups for life.

This is where Mini Mahomes comparisons lose steam.

In Kansas City, Mahomes hit the quarterback jackpot. He was able to sit behind a Pro Bowler on a playoff team in 2017. There will be no 365-day apprenticeship for Caleb Williams in Chicago. It’s zero coincidence that three of the greatest players ever — Tom Brady, Aaron Rodgers and Mahomes — were all afforded time. It’s also no coincidence the Packers Model is becoming a trend with the Atlanta Falcons selecting Michael Penix Jr. eighth overall this spring. Teams know the value of patience.

Best of all, Mahomes was coached by one of the greatest offensive brains in football history: Andy Reid.

Bears president Kevin Warren could’ve deemed Williams a quarterback worthy of a regime reset and hunted for the next Reid. Offensive minds were available. Instead, he stood pat.

Stars who so publicly view themselves as stars — as the No. 1 energy source of their respective teams — wield their power with the frequency of brushing their teeth. LeBron James has had nine coaches in his 21-year NBA career and seven of them were fired. If this thing turns sideways, nobody should be surprised if a quarterback who wanted a stake in ownership privately pines for a new coach. (Williams might have a point, too.)

All this being said? There’s a clear lane for Williams to excel in Year 1.

Moon can see it. Moon believes the Bears offensive staff can structure the offense in a simple fashion early. Instead of asking a rookie to handle all protections pre-snap and scan the entire field post-snap, he advises OC Shane Waldron to give Williams a “one-two option” in the passing game. Think too much and he’ll play slow. He’ll lose his superpower. This would accelerate his play speed and give the quarterback a foundation to build on. There’s no reason Waldron can’t do for Williams what Texas OC Bobby Slowik did out of the starter’s gate for Stroud.

Condensing the playbook allows for Williams to get comfortable and — only when needed — streetball outside the confines of structure. Brett Favre, the ultimate wild horse who didn’t even know what a nickel defense was in the early 90s, repeatedly credits Mike Holmgren for calling plays that steered him out of trouble. If we’ve learned anything through Bears history, it’s that this isn’t as simple as unleashing a freak-show talent on NFL defenses. Allen Robinson knows defensive coordinators will test Williams over time. “Comm 100,” he explains, becomes “Comm 300.” Quarterbacks keep up or get left behind.

“And you don’t know what that development will look like,” the wideout adds.

Into 2025, and 2026, and 2027, the Bears can gradually give Williams more field to read.

There’s also more talent around this No. 1 pick than any in modern history.

D.J. Moore is a top 10 wide receiver in his prime. Keenan Allen is a 10,000-yard receiver fresh off arguably his best season as a pro. Rome Odunze, the ninth overall pick, had more yards than any receiver in college football last season and will draw favorable matchups. D’Andre Swift is the new RB1. Cole Kmet is fresh off his best season at tight end. The offensive line is solid.

Williams will be able to trust the 10 players around him and turn on the special when acrobatics are required. Be it the 2-minute drill, the red zone, third and long.

“That’s where that specialness comes out,” Moon says, “and he makes those creative plays that Patrick Mahomes does. That’s what separates him. Especially when you have all those other things going for you — the weapons. So they’ve done that. Now, they just need to structure the offense to where it’s simple enough for him to be successful in it in the beginning. As he gets more comfortable, that’s when he's going to make those special plays that we’ll all be watching on Sportscenter.

“We’ll say, ‘Wow, did you see that throw he made? Did you see him escape the pocket and make that throw or make that run?’ That’s what separated Josh Allen. That’s what separates Patrick Mahomes. That’s what separates these guys that make those type of plays when everything breaks down.”

This defense is built for the modern game. One ex-Bears scout describes the secondary as more of a crucible. He views Tyrique Stevenson, Jaylon Johnson and Kyler Gordon as the best cornerback trio in the NFL. When Chicago switched from zone to man coverage, this crew got into the collective mugs of receivers. Gordan shut down the best slot man in the game: Detroit’s Amon-Ra St. Brown. Up front, Poles’ midseason trade for Montez Sweat proved ingenious. By acquiring a pass rusher the veteran route, the Bears could more comfortably select Odunze at nine.

So, here we go again, Chi-Town. Expectations are palpable.

Eberflus went from a scalding hot seat in 2023 to the second-best bet for coach of the year in 2024. Williams broke the Fanatics’ draft-night merch record for any draft pick in any sport, topping Caitlin Clark the previous week. And, yes, there was Pastor Dates praying for a Super Bowl run at that stadium unveiling. One could say there are more worthy causes to pray for in this city, but that’s how tormented locals feel at the quarterback position. Spiritual leaders believe the Lord must intervene.

As always, success will boil down to those three critical factors.

Evaluation. Organizational chaos. Pressure.

This is Caleb Williams’ show now and he’s not backing down.

He’s curling his upper lip and bear-clawin’ in the face of it all.