When Tom Brady was the quarterback of the New England Patriots, Pats fans knew the first meaningful game of their season would be played in January. When Peyton Manning was the quarterback in Indy, Colts fans knew the same. Currently, the folks in Kansas City and Buffalo enthusiastically attend the ballgames in September, October, November, and December, but every single one of them knows the truth: regular season drama is for the other teams, the other fans, the lesser beings. Sports are boring for these fan bases until a loss sends you home for a long offseason of “what could have been?”
Watching Scottie Scheffler win his second major championship of 2025, and the fourth major championship of his career, something occurred to me: greatness is, in many cases, fundamentally boring. Or put more fairly, greatness can often be uninspiringly impressive. Think Federer and Sampras. Think the Duncan Spurs. Think the late-90s Yankees. Hell, think about the guy down the office who simply shows up on time, gets his work done efficiently, and walks out the door at 5:01 PM.
If you weren’t a Tiger Woods fan, nothing was more boring than Tiger’s dominance. If you didn’t live in Chicago, you slept through the NBA playoffs of the 1990s. When folks describe Scottie Scheffler’s game as “boring,” I understand it. He doesn’t come with the adoring, rapturous crowds of Tiger. His game doesn’t have the flashy runs of Rory. He hits the fairway. He hits the green. He makes the putt. He wins. And sometimes he wins by so much you turn the television off.
Greatness has a distinguishable feature: stability. And for the Chicago Bears, stability has been a lacking characteristic since the Jerry Angelo/Lovie Smith partnership was absurdly disbanded in the early part of the last decade. But now they have a number one pick in the draft at quarterback and the most coveted coach on the market in charge of the operation. Those two individuals are employed to entertain the faithful, sure, but their primary responsibility is to stabilize the franchise and usher in an era of winning. Boring, boring, winning.
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That starts this week, at camp, the first collaboration of their partnership. What do I want to hear out of Lake Forest the next weeks? Nothing. Not a thing. Bore me. And keep boring me until you’re playing relevant football in the early weeks of 2026.
