Indy has nothing we'd want

It has become one of the great American sports traditions, the political bet. A major game gets people all worked up and happy at the same time, not worrying about snow removal, potholes or taxes. And that makes it safe for a governor or mayor to get in on it.

So rival politicians bet something that screams out the identity of their hometowns. Two weeks ago the Bears beat the Seattle Seahawks, and Mayor Daley took Seattle Mayor Greg Nickles for beer, coffee and salmon. (Too bad that when the stuff arrived, the beer bottles had broken and drenched the coffee-flavored chocolates.) Last week the Bears beat the New Orleans Saints, and Mayor Daley won beignets.

But with the Bears about to play the Indianapolis Colts in the Super Bowl, we have a problem:

What could Indiana possibly have to bet that we would want?

I mean, Chicago can offer Indiana pizza, ribs, beef sandwiches and dental work. But do we really need ballcaps with farm company names on them?

Rumor has it Indianapolis Gov. Mitch Daniels wants to offer up Gary.

I don't often admit this, but I have some friends in Indiana. I called them to ask what they could bet.

''How about corn?''

We have corn.

''Soy?''

Another Indiana friend said they love their pork-tenderloin sandwiches, and that did sound good.

''Pork tenderloin and a carton of cigarettes,'' he said.

Someone else suggested tickets to the Indy 500, but there are two problems with that: One, they just drive around in circles all day. Two, we have to go to Indiana to see it.

Indiana has a serious image problem in Chicago. To us, it seems like a big truck stop between cities.

A few years ago, my brother-in-law started dating a woman from Fort Wayne. Before meeting her, I had to keep reminding myself to talk slowly and not stare at her tooth.

Indiana has Notre Dame, but that always seemed like a Chicago school filled with Chicago kids. They had a great movie, ''Hoosiers.'' But the story of Illinois' tiny Hebron was just as good.

Their greatest sports hero is a guy who wore red sweaters, threw chairs across a basketball court and choked his own players. Eventually, they kicked him out.

''Eli Lilly is based in Indianapolis,'' a friend said.

Yes, but why would we need Prozac if the Bears win?

''They also make Cialis.''

Here's a thought: If the Bears win, then Indiana gives back Eric Gordon. He's the high school basketball phenom from Indianapolis who had committed to the Illini until new Indiana coach Kelvin Sampson got him to change his mind.

I do have a thing against Indiana. It is ingrained in all Chicagoans. And then confirmed through experience.

For Chicagoans, these feelings came to a head in 1982 with Mike Royko's columns in the Sun-Times. And part of the fun was watching Indiana people get so uppity about it.

''For most males in Indiana, a real good time consists of putting on bib overalls and a cap bearing the name of a farm equipment company and sauntering to a gas station to sit around and gossip about how Elmer couldn't get his pickup truck started that morning,'' he wrote.

And this: ''Its only large cities are Indianapolis and Gary, which give you the choice of dying of boredom or of multiple gunshot wounds.''

God, he would have loved this Bears-Colts week.

One time in Indianapolis, I went to grab some dinner just after 10 p.m., and everything was closed. I ended up having to go to a White Castle, where I stood in line for 20 minutes behind a hooker and a pimp. I wrote about that once, and several people from Indiana asked why I wanted to eat that late in the first place.

Once after a basketball game, I went to a nearby bar in downtown Indianapolis. The place was packed with everyone having fun, and they were playing retro music from the 1970s. It was a nice community thing, how everyone had bought into the whole theme and dressed in 1970s clothes and hair.

Turned out, that wasn't a theme.

These people excitedly call themselves Hoosiers, without knowing what it means.

There all sorts of theories. In the old days, Indiana people were so rough that they always would fight in bars. By the end of the night, someone would see a piece of something on the floor and ask, ''Whose ear?'' Eventually, that morphed into Hoosier.

But on indiana.edu, Jeffrey Graf of the reference department of the Indiana University Libraries says that Southerners used to use the term Hoosier ''to denote a rustic, a bumpkin, a countryman, a roughneck, a hick or an awkward, uncouth or unskilled fellow.''

He described the ''cousins'' of the word Hoosier to be ''cracker'' and ''redneck.''

So here's the deal: If the Colts win, Indiana promises to keep its stuff.

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