Riddle me this: Who is Cutler?
It's not necessary for Bears QB to tell us what he's all about, but opening up would be nice
Who is Jay Cutler? Do you know? Do you have any real sense of the most-spotlighted athlete in our city at this time?
I don't.
(Tom Cruze/Sun-Times)
And if you're honest, I think you'll admit you don't, either.
Derrick Rose, without question the other leading athlete celeb in town, is an open book, a veritable billboard of information and self-revelation compared to Cutler. Patrick Kane, who is moving up the chart with a bullet, is moderately chatty and lightly provocative, even when dealing with taxi-driver misfortunes.
But Cutler, the long-term and very wealthy face of our franchise sports team -- the Bears rule and always will rule in a city of broad shoulders -- has been here more than a half-year, yet it's as though he hasn't been here at all except for the football games, the eight-second sound bites and the often-blank-faced or seemingly irritated looks during officially sanctioned media moments.
He was open and expansive about his diabetes diagnosis and courageous life changes that enabled him to continue playing pro ball. But that explaining was almost all done back when he was with the Denver Broncos, and there has been little in-depth for us to glean since.
Cutler is closely watched by Bears media personnel, which clearly is the way he wants it, and he is available for inane group questioning at the podium only on Wednesday afternoons and after games. I asked, and Bears media officials informed me that Cutler doesn't want anyone calling his parents for information.
Nor is this a reporter's beef. If an athlete doesn't want to talk or reveal himself to the media, there is much in that to be recommended. In this era of Twitter (yep, go get his) and what essayist Nancy Gibbs calls the ''indiscriminate intimacy'' of electronic blabber, it sure won't bother me.
And by speaking only in cliches or in controlled electronic code, Cutler pretty much can be assured the National Enquirer won't put headlines such as its current ''DALE EARNHARDT JR. EMOTIONAL BREAKDOWN: CRYING, PUNCHING WALLS & MORE'' on its cover regarding his mental state.
Yet Cutler is the most important athletic figure in this town since Michael Jordan. And, my God, the things we knew about Jordan. Because he let us know them. Because he existed, warts and all, right there in front of us year after year after year.
There are those who insist Cutler is simply a shallow-end-of-the-pool guy, a utensil drawer with no forks or spoons within. When even Tony Dungy questions a player's maturity, it makes you wonder.
Indeed, the need to know something of depth about this person -- through revelation, sharing or the most basic empathy -- is great because, as you'll recall, there was a disturbing pall of weirdness about his entrance to our town. In the history of the NFL, no 4,000-yard passer ever has been traded at age 25. Except Cutler.
Bears quarterback Jim McMahon was a surly jerk, but he revealed that fact to us constantly -- and we appreciated his real-ness and his winning.
But we had a better feel about guys such as Kordell Stewart and Chris Chandler than we do about Cutler.
Erik Kramer was Mr. Congeniality. We knew more than we wanted about Brian Griese. And for all his failings afield, Rex Grossman was a stand-up guy who accepted the anger of a city and still tried to say things that were authentic and not prefab.
A good part of this is Fortress Halas Hall, of course. Players such as Alex Brown, ''Peanut'' Tillman and many others will reveal themselves, but the Lovie Smith school of say-no-evil/say-no-nothing pervades.
This is an era in which all sports entities are attempting to take control of their images -- like political campaigns -- for profit, success and, above all, helpful mind-think. If you own the product and you can spin the image, goes the logic, why wouldn't you?
It's sad that we're left with the Paris Hiltons and the Nick Swishers of the world as ''characters.'' New York Yankees outfielder Swisher's dyed-facial-hair realm of hilarity should be saluted, I guess, because it's not 10 more minutes of Dick Jauron. But peel back the layers of that odd Swisher onion, and what you'll find, like Beyonce's hair extensions, is more of the same.
Cutler, for his part, drums his fingers in boredom on the rostrum, doesn't look questioners in the eye. In a flash, he's gone.
His answers don't show reflection, insight, zeal or particular care. (He has said he doesn't care how he's portrayed.) He speaks in cliches, droning responses that could be written before they're uttered.
A star Bears quarterback doesn't have to give himself away; he can save his essence. But is there an X inside this guy's O?
Do you have any inkling about whom Jay Cutler is?