Every new NFL head coach comes to the job with his own brand. When the Bears hired demanding defensive coach Matt Eberflus, he even brought his own acronym, a gutsy move. H.I.T.S., he said, stood for Hustle, Intensity, Takeaways and (playing) Smart. When those qualities became harder to find over three seasons, it ended up standing for Hey, Imbecile, Timeouts (are) Serious, and many, many uglier substitutions.
Lesson: Motivational sayings and slogans are better left on the Pop Warner sideline.
Eberflus’ replacement, Ben Johnson, is a genius. That’s not me saying it, and I’m pretty sure that’s not him saying it. It’s everybody else around him saying it. This isn’t necessarily new in the NFL, where, if you design anything that has a whiff of innovation, high intellect is automatically suspected. If someone hollered, “Hey, Genius!’’ in a room full of coaches, it would look like a synchronized head-turning competition. But I’m not sure I’ve seen this much consensus about someone’s intelligence this early into a head coaching career.
When Johnson was 14, he received a perfect score on a challenging national math exam, and for the math-challenged among us, that anecdote is enough to seal the deal: Genius. If the label is a burden, he doesn’t seem to be letting on. If I were him, I’d play down the mental-prowess angle. Any hint of failure, and people like me are going to jump on him immediately, with “Mensa, my ass,’’ the betting favorite for first insult.
I’ll remind you that former Bears coach Marc Trestman, who lasted all of two seasons here, also arrived in Chicago as a bright designer of offenses. Then I’ll duck to avoid your projectiles.
The good news for the Bears and their fans is that all the flattery being tossed at Johnson didn’t come out of nowhere. With him running the offense, the Lions led the NFL with 33.2 points a game in 2024. They had at least 40 points in six games, the most in a season in league history. I’m not sure Chicago would know how to react if that happened here. I picture euphoric adults wandering the streets in pajamas because they forgot clothes, a destination and their names.
Caleb Williams is going to decide whether Johnson is a genius or something lesser. Matt Nagy forever will be linked with Justin Fields’ struggles as a Bear, just as Eberflus will forever be linked with Fields’ and Williams’ struggles as a Bear.
Why does this feel different? Because Johnson comes with a much better track record than either Nagy, who rode into Chicago on Andy Reid’s coattails, or Eberflus, who had success as the Colts defensive coordinator but nothing like Johnson’s wild accomplishments in Detroit.
But — and this is the biggest but in the world — none of it will make a difference if Williams doesn’t turn into the star he’s supposed to be. That will fall on Johnson because quarterback failure always falls on the head coach. It’s impossible to look at Williams and see a talent deficiency.
Johnson has a coaching staff of 28, which seems excessive, unless some of them double as Halas Hall lunch monitors. Maybe having a massive contingent will free him up to work on new, more-genius plays. Or maybe he’s convinced that the formula for figuring out a coach’s IQ involves how many coaches he oversees.
Whatever. He’s a genius, and you know what that makes Eberflus. It’s been unspoken but understood in every quote that has come out of the Combine about Johnson this week. “Nincompoop” feels like an outdated word for “dimwit” and, yet, I think that’s what people are saying about Eberflus without actually saying it, don’t you?
“(Johnson’s) ability to really give a clear vision of what he wants and needs to be successful has been really, really good,” Bears general manager Ryan Poles said Tuesday. “The high football IQ is on a totally different level than what I’ve seen and been a part of before, so it’s really good.”
Don’t feel bad for Eberflus, who, despite his record as Bears head coach (14-32), landed the Cowboys defensive coordinator job. If he mentioned his H.I.T.S. approach when he was hired in Dallas, I missed it. But he wasn’t shy about describing the trademark of his defenses.
“Pretty simple: We take the ball away,” he said. “That’s what we do. We stop the run. And we want to make exciting plays for our football team. That’s really what we do.”
Eberflus came to Chicago as a shaper of defenses, just as Johnson comes here as a shaper of offenses. I did it again, didn’t I, grouping good and evil together? That would explain the firing squad aiming at me.
