Smashing victory was pure Chicago

This is the only way it could happen in Chicago, Illinois, USA, a football title won in the smashmouth mode of Butkus, Ditka and Payton with snow falling, mud in the cleats, fog shrouding the skyline and the upper deck swaying from the delirious bouncing of bodies. A scene considered cold and sloppy elsewhere qualifies as grunting, snorting, Norman Rockwell Americana here, with the city's love for the Bears never more palpable than after the clock ticked to 0:00.

''No one left the stadium,'' Brian Urlacher said. ''The fans all stayed.''

Who could go home, even in a 13-degree wind chill, when so much theater remained on the field? There stood Lovie Smith, drenched from an icy Gatorade bath that seemed wickedly cruel, the first black coach to reach a Super Bowl and a man who finally might manage the civic impossibility of reducing Mike Ditka to past tense. Beside him was Rex Grossman, whose erratic day mirrored his erratic season but who goes to Miami anyway among the most dubious of roman-numeraled quarterbacks. Behind them was general manager Jerry Angelo, another maligned soul who assembled the talent maximized by Smith, and in the center of it all was a lady we rarely see. More than crashing a racial barrier, this was Smith's biggest dream, to see 83-year-old Virginia McCaskey accept an NFC championship trophy named after her father, Papa Bear Halas.

''It's beautiful. It's beautiful,'' she said, struggling to hold the hardware as Fox yahoo Terry Bradshaw mercifully didn't crack wise about it.

But what Smith said minutes later, as a 39-14 pummeling of the New Orleans Saints resonated through the sporting world, is what struck me as precious. ''She's happy now. Next game, she'll be even happier,'' said the Lovester, in what sounded like a guarantee, wouldn't you say?

At long last, a city clinging to all things 1985 can move on to another adventure in the bacchanalian bash. That would be a winnable Midwestern backyard barbecue against the Indianapolis Colts and Peyton Manning, whose shoulders no longer are burdened by a postseason gorilla. He will be the country's sentimental favorite, if also an overexposed pitchman. In the bigger picture of life, Smith will be joined by another African-American coach, close friend Tony Dungy, in a social triumph of major proportion. The Colts will be favored, if for no other reason than the AFC has been superior to the NFC. But seeing how the Bears continue to summarily hush their numerous critics and taunters, who's to say they won't have their way again with detractors who pick Indy?

If the '85 team was an entertainment extravaganza that plundered opponents like few in NFL history, these Bears delight in taking names and making idiots of those who doubt them. I am in that group, of course, having picked the Saints. Such is the modus operandi of Smith, who never loses his cool but does know how to motivate players with negative stimuli. All week, he let them know they were being dissed, which prompted them to watch TV and see it for themselves. It was no coincidence afterward when Adewale Ogunleye mentioned a list of eight ESPN analysts, all of whom had picked against the Bears. In Lovie's world, redemption is a mission.

''We went into the game with the best record in the National Football League, and we didn't really get a lot of respect,'' Smith said. ''Not many people gave us a chance to win this game, but our guys didn't buy into that. They bought into each other and had a lot of faith in each other. And, of course, this is where we end up.''

An ESPN columnist, Gene Wojciechowski, inquired about the satisfaction of quieting critics. ''You were one of them, Gene,'' fired Lovie, flashing a grin that stretched from the podium to Big Sandy, Texas, where the town's lone flashing yellow light could become a red light after the native son made traffic stand still.

All the psychobabble might seem silly, but on a day when the Saints generally looked flat and intimidated by the Bears and the weather, don't knock Smith's methodology. If we've questioned his game-day strategies before, he and his staff were perfect when they had to be, pounding the ball on the ground with bulldozing Cedric Benson before deftly changing pace with Thomas Jones. He forever will be known in these parts for The Thomas Jones Drive, when offensive coordinator Ron Turner kept calling the same play -- ''42 Mike, Lead Draw'' -- and Jones gained the entire 69 yards of the touchdown march on eight runs. How critical to run at will when Bad Rex reared his ugly head for much too long, finally mustering a timely smidgen of Good Rex with the title in the balance.

I can't explain Grossman. The world's finest shrinks can't explain him. But after the rampaging defense forced Drew Brees into an intentional-grounding safety to give the Bears breathing room, Rex relaxed long enough to complete three straight passes for sizable gains before finding a sly, maneuvering Bernard Berrian on a 33-yard touchdown pass. When he needed to play a better game than the previous week, Rex was worse. He will be pounded throughout Super Bowl week by the national media, creating a major story line he won't swallow well.

''This is the blueprint of the Chicago Bears' tradition -- great defense, run the ball well, then make a few plays in the passing game that set us apart at the end,'' said Grossman, in a polite way of saying he struggled. ''Then we do it in the snow. It's so huge.''

I could be a real jerk and call them the worst 15-3 team to reach a Super Bowl. But that wouldn't be true. Lovie Smith will tell you so. ''The guy is amazing,'' Urlacher said. ''Every game, people find something wrong with our team, something wrong with our defense, our quarterback. He stuck with Rex. He stood behind him all season just like our whole team has. We've taken on his attitude. He never gets too high or low, always staying in the middle.''

He believed when we didn't. They believed when we didn't.

So maybe we'd be wise to start believing and enjoy the palm trees.

Jay Mariotti is a regular on ''Around the Horn'' at 4 p.m. on ESPN. Send e-mail to inbox@suntimes.com with name, hometown and daytime phone number (letters run Sunday).