How much is a first down worth?

As the sun sets over Chicago's lakefront, the faithful fans of the Chicago Bears make their way home, each carrying a newfound sense of clarity. For some, today served as a hopeful reminder that the future shines bright for their beloved team. For others, the shadows of past disappointments linger, casting doubt over what could be. I found myself somewhere in the middle—torn between the hope for a true contender and the nagging fear that futility may forever define this franchise.

With these thoughts swirling, I place my earbuds in, hit shuffle on Spotify, and search for inspiration. As I begin to write, Kendrick Lamar’s voice emerges from the next track, striking me with his profound words. On his critically acclaimed album To Pimp a Butterfly, Lamar asks, "How much does a dollar really cost?" His exploration of the paralyzing tension between materialism and spirituality transcends the realm of sports, yet his question resonates deeply with me. Though I wasn't about to tackle a topic as monumental as Lamar’s, his reflection fueled my own as I sifted through the details of the Bears’ 27-3 preseason victory over the Cincinnati Bengals. A thought began to form, borrowing from Kendrick’s musings: "How much is a first down really worth?"

I take my mind back to the beginning of the game and the feeling of the stadium. What is a first down? It’s when a team gains the necessary yardage on any given down to reset the yardage and earn a fresh set of downs. Football fans understand this without pondering its ontology. Yet, a first down is worth more than simple yardage or downs. It is the fuel that fans spend their hard-earned money on—hundreds of dollars shelled out weekly just to hear those fabled words: “First down, Bears.” So how much is a first down really worth? On this overcast day at Soldier Field, with the sky a blanket of gray and a familiar sense of dread hanging over the lakefront, that question lingered in my mind. The Bears have long been the embodiment of Chicago's gritty, working-class ethos, and the fans in attendance were yearning for a spark—something to jolt them from their collective malaise. Unfortunately, the Bears were off to a rocky start offensively with several “three-and-outs” in a row, and the collective malaise was only becoming worse. Groans could be heard from the press box, hands thrown up in disappointed even during a meaningless preseason game. A spark was needed—something tangible.

Then it happened. Caleb Williams connected with wide receiver Nsimba Webster for a first down, and the atmosphere shifted. The crowd, previously subdued and skeptical, began to stir. A few plays later, they were on their feet as Williams launched a 45-yard completion. The transformation in the stands was palpable—fans who had been slouched in their seats, eyes glued to their phones, were now fully engaged, cheering and banging on the metal barriers that connect to the press box. The crescendo reached its peak when Williams scrambled for a touchdown, igniting an eruption of joy throughout the stadium.

So how much is a first down really worth? For Chicagoans, it’s priceless.

Chicago is a city built by the working class. Each week, countless people wake up early, don their work clothes, and head to jobs they often tolerate rather than enjoy. Besieged by monotony, Chicagoans brave the heat, the cold, and the storms to provide for themselves and their families. By Friday, they're rewarded with a weekend that feels all too brief. Saturday is spent unwinding—heading to your favorite bar, catching up with friends, and enjoying a well-deserved break. But Sunday? Sunday is sacred. In this city, it’s a day reserved for only two things: church and Chicago Bears football. In fact, it’s so sacred that you will find many pulpits of ministers in Bears jerseys, preaching as fast as they can, hoping to reach their TV in time to watch their beloved team.

While the preseason might lack the gravity of regular-season Sundays, that doesn’t diminish the importance of these games for Bears fans. Chicagoans still carve out time to watch, to hope, and to dream of a successful season. For them, the 2024 season represents more than just a series of games—it symbolizes the possibility of success, a promise that transcends the game and touches on something deeper: the desire to see their beloved Bears triumph before their time on this earth runs out.

So how much is a first down really worth? Everything. In a city that’s often divided, the Bears are the glue that binds people together, if only for one day a week. Outsiders may struggle to understand the almost religious reverence the Bears command here, but for those who’ve lived and breathed Chicago, it’s crystal clear.

Saturday’s preseason matchup against the Cincinnati Bengals encapsulated the Chicago sports experience—swinging between dreadful lows and ineffable highs. As I sit in the Soldier Field press box, with the echoes of today's game still fresh in my mind, I can't help but circle back to the question: How much is a first down really worth? For the Chicago Bears, it's more than just yards on the field—it’s a currency of hope, the price of possibility, and a measure of resilience in the face of relentless doubt. Every completed pass, every scramble for extra yards, every fleeting moment of success chips away at the fear and trauma that has plagued this franchise for decades. It’s in these moments, however small, that we find a reason to believe that maybe—just maybe—their destiny isn't carved in futility but in the pursuit of something greater. And that, to me, is worth every ounce of uncertainty that comes with watching this storied, yet beleaguered, team.

In fact, Sundays feel created just for this. For Bears fans, it’s impossible not to give in to that feeling of relentless hope, and I advise every fan to give into it. So, when it hits noon on a Sunday this season, toss on your favorite Bears jersey and turn your TV to Fox. Let the hope wash over you like a flood because, as the philosopher Randy Moss once said, “You can’t do nothing but get your roll on.”