It's too soon for Bears to give up on Matt Forte

By Nate Atkins

natkins@chicagofootball.com

The day after the Bears season ended, Matt Forte stood in front of a locker that no longer belonged to him. It technically does. It still has his nameplate overhead since he has plenty more at home, and the naked pads and scattered cleats will remain until the equipment boy gathers them up in a cart. Otherwise, Forte's spot has been cleared out in our hearts and minds.

Well, except for this: A tattered spandex cutoff shirt hangs in the middle of the stall, stitched in Chicago blue and orange and made to look like a jersey. The No. 22 is on the back, and above it are the words "Work Horse."

"All my hard work, blood, sweat and tears is in this shirt, too, so I wanted to leave it," he said.

He said he hopes he can come back for it, but we'll see.

This was one day after the farewell on the field, which again was never official, never labeled that way, but come on. More than 50,000 people snuggled into frigid Soldier Field on Sunday for a meaningless battle between two 6-9 teams, and you know why. You saw it in everything you'll remember from the game, from the "Thanks for the smiles Forte!" banner near the north end zone to his postgame handshakes with fans to the way his tap-dancing touchdown from 23 yards out set the entire stadium on fire.

"Everybody's acting like it's a going-away party, like a funeral or something," Forte said Monday. "No decisions have been made. I can be back."

He's right: Everyone is saying goodbye. We've all become guilty of it over the past week. But why?

Why are we burying Matt Forte?

Is it because he's 30 years old, the same age as Adrian Peterson, the NFL's leading rusher?

It is because he will surely decline, even though he hasn't at all yet, coming off his eighth season of 800 yards rushing and 300 receiving like only four other players in the history of the game, still in such chiseled shape that a team full of injured bodies walks away puzzled over how he does it?

Is it because the Bears' past two fourth-round picks, Jeremy Langford and Ka'Deem Carey, inspire that much confidence for a run-first offense with their combined 3.6 yards per carry?

Or is it because John Fox and Ryan Pace's vision for the future is to allocate the money they have to playmakers who fit the culture of hardworking, selfless, gritty men who will fight for their teammates every day - guys like Forte?

That's the most stunning part of this Forte Funeral we've built up in our minds: Everything the Bears have professed they want to build under the new regime can still be found in No. 22, the guy whose locker they're about to clean out.

Fox and Pace are smart men who understand that contracts are as much about projection as they are production, and projections for running backs after age 30 typically aren't great in such a brutal game. They know they don't owe Forte anything more just because he's a fan favorite.

But they're overthinking this one if they're in a dilemma this late in the game. On Monday, they admitted they have a bad football team in need of good-character playmakers. With a fraction of the enormous cap space they'll have this spring - think three years and $12 million with $7.5 million guaranteed, which Frank Gore collected from the Colts last year and which Forte has said he's open to - they could secure so many personas in one body: a runner, a receiver, a pass protector, a player who can stay on the field, a team captain, a strong voice at the players' leadership table and a Brian Piccolo Award winner.

If they pass, moving forward will be on them. The first step will be taking down Forte's "Work Horse" shirt and emptying out the stall he left behind. The second will be replacing all that he filled it with.

Those traits don't just grow on lockers anymore.

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