Sometimes, you watch the Chicago Bears be horribly mediocre against a one-win team from places not called Soldier Field. This was not one of those times.

Ah, yes, Soldier Field: Home of the Chicago Bears, team of destiny Monsters of the Midway a team in the NFL. Not ever having been to Soldier Field before, I wasn’t quite sure what my seating situation would look like; but I was pleasantly relieved to not only be within short distance of the bathroom and concessions, but the idiot wearing the Rex Grossman jersey, as well. That was me, actually.

Alright, so what isn’t cool about this? No, this isn’t rhetorical; I’m literally quizzing you. Let’s see: A) This is really me. B) I’m really wearing a Rex Grossman jersey. C) I wasn’t forced, blackmailed, or paid to wear a Rex Grossman jersey. D) I took particularly careful consideration in making sure you wouldn’t see my face, but posed for the picture in a way to put emphasis on the Grossman jersey, making it appear like I didn’t take particularly careful consideration in making sure you wouldn’t see my face.

Yes, it is all true.

I originally thought I’d wear the Grossman jersey out of irony; you know, to show the viewing public that Cutler is no better than Rex. Then, I thought, I’ll wear it to give my final condolences to Rex, who I always stubbornly felt was given an epically raw deal. I ended up wearing it because it was the only clean thing I had that was game appropriate.

Immediately, I pulled out $60 from an ATM at the stadium. A $3 surcharge is not bad! Vegas casinos will charge you $7. Assholes. I figured that I’d need the cash so I could take advantage of the gentleman with beer who keeps walking by my seat, offering to sell me one or three at a time.

We — my girlfriend and I — sat in the United Club, which is apparently a pretty decent area to be in. We were at the Northeast end of the stadium and despite this photograph vehemently telling you otherwise , it felt pretty close:

I started the game double-fisting Guiness. Two up, two down early. But that’s where it ended. I dressed in, what I wholeheartedly assumed to be, warm clothing. By six minutes left to go in the first quarter, it became apparent that it was not, and that I would not be drinking any more iced-cold beer, regardless of how fucking delicious and refreshing they were. With no Jack in sight, I resigned to hot chocolate for the remainder of the game (and was handsomely rewarded with a Bears travel mug!)

As far as the game itself: There is nothing like when you see a Jamar Williams, or an Adewale Ogunleye, throwing their arms up in the air, asking for you (yes, just you!) to yell as loud as you possibly can. That was exciting. Little else was.

I learned some of the game etiquette that can connect fans to one and another can be as simple as:

“There’s a timeout.”

“Where?”

“On the field.”

“Ohhh.”

I also learned that I really feel privileged to be a Bears fan … Oh, and that I don’t get shy bladder here like I do at Wrigley.

More from Blog Down, Chicago Bears

• Kevin Shaffer Tries Left Guard, Mike Martz Gushes Over Wideouts, And Is Juice Williams Your New Third-String Quarterback
• Bears Draft Corey Wootton. And I Try To Convince You (Myself) It Was A Good Pick
• Bears Draft J’Marcus Webb. And He Couldn’t Be More Stoked