One if by land...hey, just stick to the land.I’m tired of it, and I don’t even play for them. Imagine how fed up the Bears have to be, already, at all of the media posturing to make the a Super Bowl the birthright of the New Orleans Saints. No matter that whenever a national tragedy like the 9/11 attacks or a city built on a delta being buried underwater by a hurricane, the media all run to talk about how this is “real life” and how any subsequent sporting events are “put into perspective.” It’s just a game.

They’re right. They were right then, at least. The fact that New Orleans was forever changed by Hurricane Katrina doesn’t change if the Saints get to the Super Bowl. You know that, and I know that. The media know it, but they don’t care. No story is easier to tell than one dripping with sentiment, so they’re running with it. Let’s hope they don’t pull a hammy running with it.

So would it be a great story if the Saints brought a little happiness to the recovering city? Sure it would. In fact, they already have. Which is good.

Because they ain’t bringing them any more on Sunday.

Are the Bears a great football team? Hardly. You can’t have a quarterback who plays like he’s trying to win the game for both teams at the same time and be great. You can’t lose two of the best defensive players in the league and still be great. But the Bears are good enough, and last I checked, that’s all it takes.

This is not a case of the ’06 Bears taking on the ’85 Bears for the heart and soul of every Bears’ fan. Only dopes would care where their favorite team’s current edition ranks in the pantheon of sports history. You just want them to win. Win Sunday and win the Super Bowl. That’ll be more than enough for me.

Sometime around 5:30 p.m. on Sunday, frail, musty, old Vag McCaskey will be put in a Cushman and driven to one of the two locker rooms in Soldier Field, where she’ll hand the NFC Championship Trophy, named after her father George S. Halas to the winning team. The Bears have never won that trophy, as it didn’t carry Halas’ name when they last won the NFC in January of 1986. Can you really make an 80 year old woman hand a trophy with her dad’s name on it to another team in a stadium that her family teamed up with the city to bend us over and build? Doesn’t seem fair.

In fact, were I Lovie Smith (and if I were, I’d have never called timeout with :02 left in the fourth quarter last week), I’d use that as motivation for our team.  Tell the boys that if the Saints thought that Katrina was bad, wait until they see what’s swirled up to greet them at 2 p.m. on Sunday.  Hurricane Vag takes no prisoners.

The Saints aren’t all that tough.  Their best defensive lineman just served a four game steroid suspension and blamed it on his asthma inhaler, even though the steroid he tested positive for wasn’t in the inhaler he turned over to the league.  He’s also prone to breaking his foot, which just means we’ll see Olin Kreutz stomping on it after every play for the first quarter and a half.

Drew Brees has had a nice year, and it’s no coincidence that it happened after he finally had that hairy mole removed from his face.  Though, judging by the scar that’s left behind, he took John Candy’s advice from “Uncle Buck” and used a quarter to go downtown to have a rat gnaw it off.

Deuce McAllister’s a good running back, you know, for a fat guy, but where the Seahawks were able to clear out the middle of the field by sending their tight end down the seam to make Brian Urlacher chase him, something tells me that big Brian will hang around the middle a little more.

The Saints have a nice set of wide recievers, there’s that Marques Colston guy, and some guy from the DeVry Institute and the yappy guy who hides cell phones in the goal post pads.  I’m sure that P’nut, Nate and Ricky are shaking just thinking about it.  In fact, Ricky’s probably hiding a laptop under that new sod at midfield, and he’ll crack it out and smack Colston with it at sometime in the first half.

Defensively, the Saints are there to be had.  Their safeties can’t run, their corners can’t cover, and as we all know, it won’t matter if Rex throws up a turd on Sunday.  But if he doesn’t?  You don’t just like the Bears chances.  You love them.

Saints coach Sean Payton has done a great job with this team.  You can’t dispute that.  But it doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s a beady eyed, weasel, Scab Replacement Player who could barely hold Mike Hohensee’s jock.  He had a nice season.  One to remember.  And he’ll have plenty of time to reflect on it starting Sunday evening.

The Bears will win because they’ll load up Thomas Jones and Cedric Benson and ride them to Miami.  Run, run, run, throw deep, and run some more.

As Chuck pointed out on IvyChat today, the last time the Bears were playing a second straight home playoff game the same day that the Patriots were playing a third straight playoff game, both ended up in the Super Bowl.  It also snowed in Chicago that day during the game.  Just like it will on Sunday.

Hey, if the Saints and their nationwide throng of fans, who’ve been fans for almost two weeks now, can cling to omens and other meaningless predictors so can we.

It’s been 22 years since the Bears played in a world championship game.  It’s been forever for the Saints.  Looks like forever just got a year longer.