Listen here — ya ever see a guy walk into a joint, take one sniff o’ the air, and just bounce without even orderin’ a beer? That’s pretty much what happened when Ben Johnson walked into Halas Hall. Ol’ Benny boy musta took one look at the chaos, shook his head, muttered a quiet “I ain’t dyin’ for this franchise,” and dipped like he just saw a ghost in the trophy case.

Word on the street is the guy had a shot — the shot — at becomin’ head coach of Da Brars, and instead he packed his bags, called Delta, and headed for greener pastures. Literally. He’s in freakin’ Detroit now, probably grillin’ kielbasa with Dan Campbell and laughin’ about how he dodged the McCaskey-shaped bullet.

Let’s be real: Coachin’ Da Brars ain’t no picnic. Ya got ownership that still thinks it’s 1985, a quarterback situation that’s got more drama than a soap opera, and a front office that couldn’t scout a decent offensive line if they was buildin’ it outta Legos. And the fans? Don’t get me started. We’re loyal, yeah, but we’re also fed up, loud, and we know a bum when we see one. Ben probably figured, “Why get roasted by angry South Siders when I can just stick with what I got?”

So here we are — again. Another would-be savior takes one peek behind the curtain and says, “No thanks, I’ll coach literally anywhere else.” And who can blame him? Halas Hall’s got more ghosts than Soldier Field in January. We talk a big game every offseason, but then the wheels fall off by Week 6, we’re blamin’ the coordinators, and we’re watchin’ the Packers dance into the playoffs while we sit here wonderin’ how we let Aaron Rodgers haunt us for two freakin’ decades.

Ben Johnson ain’t dumb. The man saw the signs. He said, “I like callin’ plays, not babysittin’ dysfunction.” And with that, he vanished — like a Bears playoff win. Poof. Gone. Into the Lake Michigan mist.

But hey, there’s always next year, right? We’ll find some poor soul willing to take the job. Maybe some coordinator who still believes in miracles. Maybe Ditka’s long-lost nephew. Who knows? What we do know is this — Ben Johnson saw the mess, and he ain’t cleanin’ it up.

Can’t say we blame ya, Ben. But if ya ever change your mind, we’ll still be here, shufflin’ along and prayin’ for a new ‘85.

Go Brars.

Let me know if you want a cleaned-up version for a sports column or something Listen here — ya ever see a guy walk into a joint, take one sniff o’ the air, and just bounce without even orderin’ a beer? That’s pretty much what happened when Ben Johnson walked into Halas Hall. Ol’ Benny boy musta took one look at the chaos, shook his head, muttered a quiet “I ain’t dyin’ for this franchise,” and dipped like he just saw a ghost in the trophy case.

Word on the street is the guy had a shot — the shot — at becomin’ head coach of Da Brars, and instead he packed his bags, called Delta, and headed for greener pastures. Literally. He’s in freakin’ Detroit now, probably grillin’ kielbasa with Dan Campbell and laughin’ about how he dodged the McCaskey-shaped bullet.

Let’s be real: Coachin’ Da Brars ain’t no picnic. Ya got ownership that still thinks it’s 1985, a quarterback situation that’s got more drama than a soap opera, and a front office that couldn’t scout a decent offensive line if they was buildin’ it outta Legos. And the fans? Don’t get me started. We’re loyal, yeah, but we’re also fed up, loud, and we know a bum when we see one. Ben probably figured, “Why get roasted by angry South Siders when I can just stick with what I got?”

So here we are — again. Another would-be savior takes one peek behind the curtain and says, “No thanks, I’ll coach literally anywhere else.” And who can blame him? Halas Hall’s got more ghosts than Soldier Field in January. We talk a big game every offseason, but then the wheels fall off by Week 6, we’re blamin’ the coordinators, and we’re watchin’ the Packers dance into the playoffs while we sit here wonderin’ how we let Aaron Rodgers haunt us for two freakin’ decades.