* San Francisco vs Chicago
Thursday, August 21, 5:00 PM PST
Preseason Week 3
Multiple Flavors Of QB Battle

When the 49ers drag their rotting fool-hardy monstrously-depressing shambles of a wreck of a display of a quarterback contest to The Windy City today, they'll be providing the backdrop for another team's quarterback travails.

Chicago has had itself a lively internecine quarterback duel between two off-cut characters: #8 Rex Grossman and #18 Kyle Orton.

Of course, Chicago hasn't had a quarterback since Sid Luckman back in the 1940s, so how would the city know if/when they have one today?

(And no, Jim McMahon does not count. Sure; he had balls of metal, but would you want him running a two-minute drill with your life on the line? 'Zactly. Shush now.)

And now, as the third preseason game is played, Orton has taken the lead against all odds and these two odd men continue their battle to be the signal-caller for Papa George Halas' team.

Rex. Touted. Incredibly head-strong. Completely confident. The golden boy out of Florida, the first-round pick savior, the one expected to sweep away Chicago's bad memories of Moses Moreno and Cade McNown and Steve Walsh and the Tomczak/Harbaugh axis. Currently second only to the Cubs in driving Chicago sportsfans into conniption fits of frustration. They call him "Sexy Rexy," they call him the "Sex Cannon;" Mr. F**k-It-I'm-Throwing-It-Downfield, needlessly winging the ball into double coverage with the absolute surety that he can Make-That-Throw. One would imagine our President feels the same simple surety with his every decision. What fun is there in that?

And the man who supplanted him: Kyle Orton. A midround pick. The placeholder-that-could. A struggling everyman.
Bad hair decisions and bad facial hair decisions and heck, on the field it looks like he's a bit perplexed but he's damn-well doin' the very best that he can. A neckbeard. A neckbeard? Who does such things?! A man set to the course of creating reams of adorably-indicting photos of himself gettin' somehow-adorably drunk, distributed across the internet. Just look at this guy! Man, if he can do it...

This is the sense that Orton conjures. He doesn't come across as some primed-up blue-chip from a pro-player factory college. He seems like just an everyday dude. A dude you could have over and he'd fit in.

And that sense creates a special kind of fan.

For Orton has not a fan club, nor a flock of boosters, nor official website.

He has an Army.

The Neckbeard Army.

Know them. Know that their hearts are pure. And despair at their gleeful fervor. Or drink.

Mostly drink.

For the Neckbeard Army's agenda is single-minded: the seeking of havin' a good time.

It's what Kyle would want you to do.