Ditka frowned on it. Defensive tackle Steve McMichael laughed at it. His line mate Dan Hampton called it pretentious. It was a lot of things, but not pretentious. It could have used a little more pretension. It was just a bunch of stiff jocks in blue jerseys and tight football pants dancing like robots as they rapped phrases about their identity and intentions. The music had been lifted from “The Kingfish Shuffle,” a rap based on the Amos ’n Andy character, for which Meyer had bought the rights. The lyrical method, a peacock’s self-portrait, is as American as Jack London. It can be heard in everything from Mark Twain (“I scratch my head with lightning and purr myself to sleep with thunder!”) to Bo Didley’s “Who Do You Love” (“I’ve got a tombstone hand and a graveyard mind, I’m just 22 and I don’t mind dyin’) to the pre-fight patter of Muhammad Ali (“I have wrestled with an alligator, I done tussled with a whale, I done handcuffed lightning, and thrown thunder in jail!”)

The Bears’ take on the tradition was crude but wonderful in the way it seemed to blow out the mental detritus of a lifetime of losing. It opened with running back Walter Payton dispelling any criticism of motives. Why are the Bears dancing like fools, he asked. Simple: to feed the needy. Defensive end Richard Dent called himself Sackman and prophesied his imminent return to slow-footed quarterbacks. Gault characterized himself as a chocolate swirl, and backup QB Steve Fuller compared himself to thunder and lightning.

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The video was shot at the Park West, a night club on the North Side of Chicago. Payton and quarterback Jim McMahon refused to participate. “When the idea was brought to us, it was to feed the homeless on Thanksgiving and Christmas,” McMahon told me. “It seemed like a nice thing. But I didn’t know anything about a video—Willie only told us about the record. Then two or three weeks later, he said, ‘OK, now we have to make the video.’ We’re like, ‘S---, you didn’t say anything about a video.’ And they had us taping it the day after we lost in Miami,” said McMahon, referring to the team’s only loss in ’85, the ambush-like shellacking they suffered, on Monday Night Football, at the hands of Dan Marino and Don Shula.

How bad was it?

DECEMBER 14 Sylvester Stallone weds his Rocky IV costar Brigitte NIELSEN in ceremony in Beverly Hills. Their marriage would last 19 months. Ron Galella/WireImage/Getty Images

Well, consider that by Thanksgiving that year, it looked as if the Bears might never lose another game. The defense, featuring defensive coordinator Buddy Ryan’s vaunted 46, a blizzard of reads and options, was only getting stronger. Chicago was intimidating its opponents, effectively beating them before they even played. All of which drew special attention to the Dolphins game, played on Dec. 2 at the Orange Bowl. The 1972 Dolphins remain the only NFL team to go unbeaten in the regular season and playoffs, then win the Super Bowl. The veterans of that team, which won Super Bowl VII, let it be known that they did not want the Bears to match their record. They converged on Miami; they would cheer from the ramparts as Don Shula and Dan Marino fought off the hoardes.

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And those old Dolphins would have plenty to cheer about. With Marino’s quick release and Miami’s stellar receivers, the Dolphins essentially defused the 46, and by halftime the Bears were down 31–10 and melting down.

Ditka and Ryan, in fact, nearly came to blows in the locker-roomduring the intermission.

Goddamnit, Buddy, you stubborn f---! Your defense ain’t working.

Wilber can’t cover Nat Moore. Put in the f------ nickel.

Stick it up your ass, Ditka!

F--- you, Buddy! Get somebody out there that can cover Moore!

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“It was a big [fight], no question,” Ditka said. “I told him very simply, ‘You want to go outside right now, we go. We can do it any way you want, Buddy. We can go right out back and get it on, or you can shape your ass up.”

In the end, a fight was avoided. But not a loss. Downed 38–24, the Bears would head back to Chicago 12–1 and seemingly not in the perfect frame of mind to film a music video. The Bears’ plane landed at O’Hare at three, four in the morning. Empty streets, endless highways. Gault said everyone involved in the song had to be at the shoot at eight o’clock that morning. McMahon laughed at this.

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He and Payton refused to participate. “Walter and I told them, ‘We’ll do it after the season,” McMahon said. “But they said, ‘No, we have to release [the video] with the record.’ So we just didn’t show up. They did everybody’s part. Walter and I finally did ours a week later, after practice, in the racquet ball court at Halas Hall. We weren’t too happy about it.