After Cody Parkey did that thing Cody Parkey did, thousands of us marched from Soldier Field into the city like tired zombies who’d lost our taste for blood. Noah and I were hungry though. So off to Lou Malnati’s on Rush (my favorite of their spaces) we went.
We were quiet. So was the entire, cavernous room. What had just happened? How could this amazingly entertaining campaign end on the foot of a bonehead kicker? How could he hit the post again? Why did it all have to happen right in front of me? I remember being on the Parker House back porch in Sea Girt, NJ, summer of 2009, watching Tom Watson let the Open at Turnberry slip through his fingers.