Lincicome: Around here we celebrate old warriors and wish we could celebrate the present

Nostalgia is a cruel mistress, both reliable and regrettable, proof of better times and a source of persistent anguish for present misery. Yesterday glows brighter than today and more confident than tomorrow.

So there the 1985 Bears were, lined up and vaguely costumed at Soldier Field, passing hand to hand the orphan trophy from Super Bowl XX, reminders that once there was a football team in Chicago, grown greater (certainly in waist size) in 40 years than it ever was then. And it was very, very good.

How many fans at Soldier Field last Monday night actually saw Jim McMahon-Mike Singletary-Dan Hampton and the rest become the greatest team in NFL history is uncertain, but they’ll take nostalgia’s word for it.

And there was Sammy Sosa recently blowing kisses to the Wrigley crowd, welcomed home after a couple of decades in exile, as much his fault as the Cubs’, both sides happy now to be happy, faults forgotten and honors given, healed by time and hype.

Anthony Rizzo, the 2016 face of redemption, comes home to retire and to accept the affection of Cubdom, still so recent a hero that nostalgia is barely unwrapped. And Ryne Sandberg, a fresh memory so sadly gone, makes whatever happens next with the Cubs, this was a summer of grace.

Where are these Cubs in the playoff standings? What’s the Magic Number? And doesn’t Rizzo look like he still belongs at first?

There in the Bulls’ Ring of Honor is a space for Derrick Rose, promising him his jersey retirement night, while, oddly, Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen avoid being in the same building.

Mark Buehrle got a statue at Rate Field and the 2005 White Sox gathered to remind those fans in present despair that the Sox, now 20 years later, once were answers and not punch lines.

This is Chicago’s way, living in yesterday’s shirt. As the autumn chill sets in, look for Kane and Toews Blackhawks jerseys. Or maybe the odd Chelios here and there.

And what of the Bears? Complete agreement flourishes in the NFL over Week 1, on both the winning and losing sides, that it is too soon to dwell on what happened, though it is easier and probably more vital for losers to forget than winners.

And given the choice, Week 1 or Week 10, it is better to be one than the other.

As a famous coach once told me, the past is for cowards and losers. Mike Ditka has, since, made an entire career out of the 1985 Bears, so I doubt the sincerity of the sentiment.

Not being able to look back should come as a disappointment to merchants of nostalgia — yesterday comprises more and more of the Bears’ glory — as well as to voters of assorted Hall of Fames, who did find a way to get Devin Hester in.

For the sake of commerce and tribute, may there always be a place for nostalgia.

The past is also for dust rags since, alas, all my old Super Bowl XX T-shirts have worn holey and thin. Had I known at the time I would have purchased more, but foolishly I left closet room for further souvenirs, looking ahead with faith that the Bears were so good, so alert, so superior, that they were unbotchable, even with a clotted coach.

As encouraging as reunions are, there is no use looking back because the shadow of success is too short to obscure the annual shining failures that are its companion. Study not past tendencies but imagine future ones.

The lesson is there for the Bears. Better always to look ahead to see if a desperate Detroit is as anxious as are the Bears to avoid starting 0-2. Not that 0-2 should be significant because in order to know that it is, you have to look back at all the teams that have started 0-2. And there you will find that teams that start 0-2 have the same chance of making the playoffs as a camel does of flossing.

No use looking at game film. Nothing to be learned there. What’s the point of looking at the Minnesota game? Better to look at the old warriors lined up at halftime, getting cheers that they earned.