Lincicome: What should we call Justin Fields? Right now, it's hard to say

By Bernie Lincicome

Daily Herald columnist

Clearly, Justin Fields needs to be redefined. He is not a quarterback, though he should be. He is not a running back, though he could be. He is not a winner, though he would be with more help.

Then what is he? Is he a miracle back, as his offensive coach, Luke Getsy, gushed, running through adjectives like Fields running away from a pass rush. "Unbelievable. Pretty cool. Holy Cow!"

Now, Cow Back doesn't have the flair or the spirit required for the fresh sensation of the week, or the weeks ahead, considering that once could be a fluke, twice a habit and more than that a pattern, now expected from Fields.

The problem with being suddenly special is that special is the bar to meet, not that winning wouldn't be nice, too.

So, what is Fields, exactly? How about Wonder Back, or Marvel Back or Whizz Back. Slick Back. Dodge Back. Ultra Back. No, that was Raymont Harris, a self-annointed disappointment from the Bears' disappointing past.

In any case, the Justin Fields Commemorative Game Souvenir Issue is no doubt being rushed to the printers as you read this. This column is just a preview, but orders are being taken, no deposit required, so that Bears fans may have forever evidence of the moment from which the future will be measured.

It is so rare that a Bears quarterback deserves special attention that when the opportunity comes it must be taken, digitally as well as analogally, with color pictures and breathless commentary, so that generations yet unborn will have proof that once upon a Sunday, greatness came after a center snap.

Oh, sure, the Bears lost the football game. No surprise there. Bears lose football games like leaves fall, an autumn tradition, but the point is, the quarterback did not lose the game, not this quarterback whose brief career has been all anticipation and anxious excuse, an unopened gift wrapped in pretty paper.

Fields did not win the game either, a habit that requires adjustment, yet the world of sports forgave him by going all atwitter and making him the NFC Player of the Week, a step up from his previous assessment as disappointment of a season and a half.

Can one game make Fields, as everyone now seems to agree, a "franchise" quarterback when what he is doing is not what quarterbacks do? The NFL is not the old John Unitas in high tops league any more, or even the recent Tom Brady picking and choosing while stationary model.

Quarterbacks are running from Baltimore to San Francisco and teams that do not have one sigh wistfully and wonder why not. Caution gives way to amazement and the examples of Donovan McNabb or Cam Newton or other victims of their own courage fade.

Bears fans may remember Bobby Douglass, if not by name then by statistics, a runner where running was not required, or more freshly Jim McMahon, the last good Bears quarterback, reduced by concussions and kidneys and backs and shoulders, forfeiting the dynasty that should have been.

Even in the days of Fran Tarkenton, the original flibberty-gibbet, quarterbacks who left their station were curiosities, not to be trusted. And Fields may be as curious as it gets.

Does he do what he does because he can't do what he should? The problem is that Fields does what he shouldn't so well that he dares fate to come find him, while linebackers and pass rushers cannot. Being the quarterback of the worst passing offense in the league is ignored when Fields is off to first downs and endzones, cheers in his ears and celebrations to choreograph.

Fields still needs, after all, a little work at the position he plays, the one where he passes the ball to other folks. Someone on his own team is desirable, but any one can do that. What they can not do is run for 178 yards, causing at one point the coach of the other team to tell him to "stop that."

This is good advice because for reasons of health, safety and variety, running with the football tends to invite collisions with others, provided others can catch up, not easily done in the case of the dashing and daring Fields.

Holy cow, for now.