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Bears should’ve been more careful before signing Sam Hurd

Chicago Bears wide receiver Sam Hurd right smiles as he autographs for fans before NFL football training camp Sunday July

Chicago Bears wide receiver Sam Hurd, right, smiles as he autographs for fans before NFL football training camp Sunday, July 31, 2011, at Olivet Nazarene University in Bourbonnais, Ill. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh)

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Updated: January 17, 2012 8:28AM

For those of you — like myself — who are not fluent in the metric system, a kilogram weighs approximately 2.2 pounds.

Two-point-two pounds equal roughly 35 ounces. In each ounce, there are about 28 grams. The exact number of grams in a kilo is, of course, 1,000. (The metric system is actually simple, even though it’s stupid.)

So had Bears receiver Sam Hurd received the 10 kilos of cocaine per week that he allegedly requested from an undercover federal agent, he could have broken it down and had 2,200 little plastic baggies of coke to sell in the Chicago area — each week!

For a year, that’s 114,400 little baggies. And that’s before cutting the drug with baking soda, baby laxative or the trendy veterinary drug Levamisole, which can cause a flesh-eating auto-immune disease, to make it go further.

Of course, Hurd wouldn’t do such grunt work — even on Tuesdays, the day off, there aren’t enough hours to get out the cutters, strip down to your shorts and start chopping away.

Scarface in Chicago?

But weekend supplier for your pals? Ha! We’re talking Tony Montana-style drug lordship.

And that’s before adding in the 1,000 pounds of marijuana per week Hurd also allegedly requested. Twenty-five tons a year? Light that, put Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa, Snoop and all their pals in a room with it, and they’d run out screaming.

‘‘I never saw it coming,’’ Bears coach Lovie Smith said of Hurd’s arrest by federal agents.

Who could have? A quiet, disciplined, in-shape NFL veteran with a wife and family . . . as wannabe American Gangster? But maybe somebody should have.

On the field Thursday, there was a noticeable quiet as the Bears ran through their drills in preparation for the Seattle Seahawks this Sunday.

How many of the players know anything about this?

The scene on this gray, windy day was, indeed, surreal.

Frank Lenti, the legendary Mount Carmel High School football coach, stood cheerfully on the sideline, an invited guest completely unaware of the doomsday news.

Inept management

Somewhere inside Halas Hall, general manager Jerry Angelo had to be sitting, head in hands, wondering how much more he could screw up, how low this team he assembled could fall. Remember, Hurd was with the Cowboys last summer, and he spoke on July 28 to Department of Homeland Security agents about drug-running and the $88,000 in cash found in his car, then he signed a three-year deal with the Bears the next day.

Does anybody run the Bears? Is there any nerve center, active mind to this place?

What does Tom Dillon, the Bears’ director of security and safety services, do?

Where was he in 2006, when Tank Johnson was getting arrested three times in 18 months, leaving guns, ammo and drugs all over his house so his kids could play with them?

Where was he when the Bears signed off on Hurd? Surely the former Northern Illinois product left some tracks somewhere.

Nope, Smith said: ‘‘Anyone we bring through here — we had extensive search to find out everything, if there’s something out there. And that wasn’t the case. There was nothing we knew about Sam.’’

If this is what passes for security and background-checking with the Bears, what a great place to hide out for a deposed sheik or a killer on the lam.

Here was a player who allegedly was prepared to spend $700,000 a week — that’s about $36 million a year (Do the Mexican cartels take Easter and Christmas off? I bet they don’t.) — and the Bears find out there’s a problem only after Hurd fails to show for meetings Thursday morning.

‘‘On game week, you have a lot going on, you don’t need any distractions,’’ Smith said after practice. ‘‘We will not let this become a distraction for us.’’

The good coach added that his remaining players are swell guys.

‘‘I just know that no one else was involved,’’ he said.

So that’s that, eh?

No. 81, he gone. The rest is fine.

It’s amazing to think that a Bears wide receiver, a guy who runs wind sprints and studies playbooks, could be targeting the Chicago area for drug sales, ready to deal with or take on, for instance, the Latin Kings, the Mickey Cobras, the Vice Lords, the vicious Sinaloa cartel from Mexico.

Those cartel guys are the ones who do things like roll heads out of burlap bags into discos to make a point.

On a table in the Halas press room was a front-office PR notice from Monday stating that Bears safety Major Wright has ‘‘teamed up with Swirlz Cupcakes and created a signature cupcake for Bears fans to enjoy.’’

Lovely. How long ago Monday seems.

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