Soldier Field is a terrible football stadium. Let’s get that out of the way right now.
It might be iconic. It might be on the lake. It might be where your grandpa took you to see Mac Percival and Bob Pifferini do their thing. But please leave nostalgia at the front desk. And don’t forget that the Bears played at Wrigley Field until 1971.
Soldier Field is a ridiculous 10-pound alien toilet seat crammed into a five-pound box. Originally opened in 1924 as a big ‘‘U’’-shaped venue to handle every kind of sporting event — from heavyweight fights to ski jumping to, yes, football — the stadium has been updated so many times it makes Madonna’s face alterations look quaint.
It likely was cool to watch Austin beat Leo in the 1937 Prep Bowl in Soldier Field in front of 120,000 fans. But that was during the Depression, and TVs hadn’t even been invented.
If you don’t believe Soldier Field is an eyesore, remember that it lost its National Historic Landmark status in 2006. That happened after a 10-member federal committee voted unanimously to de-list the place because it was so architecturally offensive.
‘‘If we want to keep the integrity of the program, let alone the landmarks, we really had no other recourse,’’ a committee member said.
And that’s just the outside. The inside is terrible, too. Cramped, inelegant and jury-rigged, it’s the lowest-capacity stadium (61,500) in the NFL, un-roofed, incapable of hosting a Super Bowl.
This being Chicago, of course, everything comes down to politics. The Bears now are investigating building a new stadium in suburban Arlington Heights, on the site of the defunct Arlington International Racecourse, and Chicago city leaders don’t like this.
In June 2021, Mayor Lori Lightfoot, a Bears season-ticket holder, said the Arlington Heights idea was ‘‘clearly a negotiating tactic that the Bears have used before.’’ Bears officials claim they’re serious.
Actually, they’ve been moderately serious before. I remember when then-Bears chairman Michael McCaskey showed me a rendering of a proposed stadium in some southern or western suburb, and I got a big chuckle because one of the stadium entrances in the drawing was a giant growling bear’s head. Yep, that might have been a negotiating ploy.
But now the Bears have signed a $197.2 million purchase agreement for the 326 acres where the racetrack was, a deal a team official tells me will be completed in the first quarter of this year.
If they purchase the land, they still don’t have to build. But what they’re talking about is a domed stadium, as modern as they come, with all kinds of amenities in the area around it. Not an add-on, jury-rigged stadium contraption, but something new, sleek, Super Bowl-worthy, like what they do in other cities.
And the thing Lightfoot and all the big talkers forget is that the NFL is one armor-plated cartel, with each of the 32 franchises a protected outpost within that cartel. You want another team in your town? Dream on.
Confronted with the stadium issue, mayoral candidate Willie Wilson said, ‘‘What I would do, I’ll buy another team in Chicago.’’
Hilarious.
Chicago likely could support three NFL teams, maybe more. But the NFL does as it pleases, shoots down all threats to its sanctity. For reference, check the USFL’s 1986 monopoly lawsuit against the NFL — and its $1 reward for winning.
Lightfoot, so snarky at the start — the Bears, she said, should focus on ‘‘beating the Packers finally and being relevant past October’’ — now is begging the Bears to stay in town. The new half-baked plan by Landmark Development to put a dome on Soldier Field is as ridiculous as it is grotesque. It wouldn’t just be putting more lipstick on a pig; it would be adding high heels and a wig hat.
Yes, the Bears are lousy, but they can do what they want. (That cartel thing, remember.) And if they could start fresh in Arlington Heights, 30 miles northwest of Chicago, in a new stadium with space, with modern amenities, with a structure that looks toward the 22nd century, not back to the 19th, maybe they could win a few games, too.
Half the teams in the NFL don’t play in the city they’re named for. The Giants and Jets haven’t played in New York City — or even New York state — for 40 years.
It’s time, Chicago. Do something new. Let it happen. Even if it’s in another town.
