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Today — 20 June 2026Yahoo! Sports - News, Scores, Standings, Rumors, Fantasy Games

Chicago Bears belong in snow and rain — not an Indiana dome | Opinion

The greatest rivalry in the NFL — and perhaps in all of sports — is between the Chicago Bears and my beloved Green Bay Packers.

That's why the possibility of the Bears leaving Chicago feels wrong. Not because I suddenly feel sorry for Bears fans. Trust me, I don't. Yet some teams belong where they started. The Packers belong in Green Bay. The Bears belong in Illinois, not Indiana.

For more than a century, the Bears have represented the Windy City. They have played football in Chicago since 1921 and at Soldier Field for more than five decades. Now that relationship could be coming to an end.

The Bears' board of directors voted June 4 to advance a stadium development project in Hammond. While the exact location has not been determined, the move signals that the franchise is seriously considering leaving the city it has called home for generations.

As a sports fan, I don't want to see the Bears leave Chicago. Just like I wouldn't want to see the Packers leave Green Bay.

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But I also understand why taxpayers are reluctant to hand over billions of dollars to build a new stadium.

The Bears are hardly the first professional sports franchise to threaten a move when public officials refuse to subsidize a new home. Across the country, team owners routinely argue that taxpayers should help finance stadiums and arenas that will ultimately increase the value of privately owned franchises.

That's where I have a problem. If billionaire owners believe a new stadium will generate billions in future revenue, they should be willing to invest more of their own money to build it.

Sports bring us together at a fraught time in our history

When a team uproots and leaves a city, it creates a void that is nearly impossible to replace. That's because sports are one of the few things that still bring people together.

Terry Stuckart of Green Bay whacks a bear with a baseball bat as he plays "Bearball" with friends in the parking lot prior to a Packers vs. Bears game. The Green Bay Packers defeated the Chicago Bears 40-3 on Dec. 11, 1994, at Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wis. Photo by Patrick Ferron

For a few hours, the problems in your life don't seem quite as heavy. Hit a pothole, need $500 worth of car repairs? At least Khris Middleton just hit a game-winning shot. Didn't get the raise you were hoping for? Well, the Packers just beat the Bears and moved two games ahead in the standings.

It may sound silly to people who aren't sports fans, but losing a hometown team can feel a lot like a divorce. The team you've rooted for your entire life suddenly belongs to someone else.

That's one reason lawmakers have introduced the Home Team Act, legislation that would make it more difficult for professional sports franchises to relocate.

The proposal, introduced by U.S. Rep. Greg Casar and Sen. Bernie Sanders, would give local communities the right of first refusal by requiring owners to offer a team to local buyers before moving it elsewhere.

Snow sits outside of Soldier Field prior to the game between the Chicago Bears and the Green Bay Packers on December 18, 2016 in Chicago.

Supporters argue that when a team leaves, communities lose far more than a logo and a stadium. They lose jobs, economic activity, civic pride, and a piece of their identity.

And whether you agree with the bill or not, they have a point. Sports consume an enormous amount of our time, money, and energy because they become part of who we are.

Leave the Green Bay Packers vs. Chicago Bears rivalry alone

For selfish reasons, I don't want the Bears to move to Indiana. It would change the most storied rivalry of my lifetime.

The Chicago Bears and Green Bay Packers have faced each other more than 200 times since the rivalry began in 1921. Along the way, there have been memorable moments, heartbreaking losses, legendary players, and more than a few cheap shots.

Remember when Packers defensive lineman Charles Martin body-slammed Bears quarterback Jim McMahon long after the whistle in 1986?

Remember Brett Favre and Aaron Rodgers reminding Bears fans that they "owned" Chicago?

That's what rivalries are built on, but what I love most about Packers-Bears isn't what happens on the field. It's the culture; the good-natured trash talk between neighbors; the tailgates, family arguments, and friendships that somehow survive despite one person wearing green and gold while the other wears navy and orange.

Some of us (a good friend) even married Bears fans. Lord knows I don't understand why. My fear is that if the Bears leave Chicago, something important gets lost. Even if they keep the name Chicago Bears, a team playing in Indiana just feels wrong.

You know what else feels wrong? The Bears playing in a new domed stadium. The Packers and Bears are old-school franchises with old-school fans. They're supposed to play in snow, freezing temperatures, rain, and whatever else Mother Nature decides to throw at them.

That's part of the identity. That's part of the rivalry.

And if the Bears leave that behind, they leave part of themselves behind, too.

So, for the sake of football tradition, for the sake of one of the greatest rivalries in sports, and for the sake of giving Packers fans someone to pick on every fall, I hope the Bears stay right where they belong: in Chicago.

Because if they move, the Packers may have to find a new team to own.

Hello, Detroit.

Reach James E. Causey at jcausey@jrn.com; follow him on X @jecausey.

This article originally appeared on Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: Moving the Bears to Indiana would destroy NFL's best rivalry | Opinion

Chicago Bears belong in snow and rain — not an Indiana dome | Opinion

The greatest rivalry in the NFL — and perhaps in all of sports — is between the Chicago Bears and my beloved Green Bay Packers.

That's why the possibility of the Bears leaving Chicago feels wrong. Not because I suddenly feel sorry for Bears fans. Trust me, I don't. Yet some teams belong where they started. The Packers belong in Green Bay. The Bears belong in Illinois, not Indiana.

For more than a century, the Bears have represented the Windy City. They have played football in Chicago since 1921 and at Soldier Field for more than five decades. Now that relationship could be coming to an end.

The Bears' board of directors voted June 4 to advance a stadium development project in Hammond. While the exact location has not been determined, the move signals that the franchise is seriously considering leaving the city it has called home for generations.

As a sports fan, I don't want to see the Bears leave Chicago. Just like I wouldn't want to see the Packers leave Green Bay.

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But I also understand why taxpayers are reluctant to hand over billions of dollars to build a new stadium.

The Bears are hardly the first professional sports franchise to threaten a move when public officials refuse to subsidize a new home. Across the country, team owners routinely argue that taxpayers should help finance stadiums and arenas that will ultimately increase the value of privately owned franchises.

That's where I have a problem. If billionaire owners believe a new stadium will generate billions in future revenue, they should be willing to invest more of their own money to build it.

Sports bring us together at a fraught time in our history

When a team uproots and leaves a city, it creates a void that is nearly impossible to replace. That's because sports are one of the few things that still bring people together.

Terry Stuckart of Green Bay whacks a bear with a baseball bat as he plays "Bearball" with friends in the parking lot prior to a Packers vs. Bears game. The Green Bay Packers defeated the Chicago Bears 40-3 on Dec. 11, 1994, at Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wis. Photo by Patrick Ferron

For a few hours, the problems in your life don't seem quite as heavy. Hit a pothole, need $500 worth of car repairs? At least Khris Middleton just hit a game-winning shot. Didn't get the raise you were hoping for? Well, the Packers just beat the Bears and moved two games ahead in the standings.

It may sound silly to people who aren't sports fans, but losing a hometown team can feel a lot like a divorce. The team you've rooted for your entire life suddenly belongs to someone else.

That's one reason lawmakers have introduced the Home Team Act, legislation that would make it more difficult for professional sports franchises to relocate.

The proposal, introduced by U.S. Rep. Greg Casar and Sen. Bernie Sanders, would give local communities the right of first refusal by requiring owners to offer a team to local buyers before moving it elsewhere.

Snow sits outside of Soldier Field prior to the game between the Chicago Bears and the Green Bay Packers on December 18, 2016 in Chicago.

Supporters argue that when a team leaves, communities lose far more than a logo and a stadium. They lose jobs, economic activity, civic pride, and a piece of their identity.

And whether you agree with the bill or not, they have a point. Sports consume an enormous amount of our time, money, and energy because they become part of who we are.

Leave the Green Bay Packers vs. Chicago Bears rivalry alone

For selfish reasons, I don't want the Bears to move to Indiana. It would change the most storied rivalry of my lifetime.

The Chicago Bears and Green Bay Packers have faced each other more than 200 times since the rivalry began in 1921. Along the way, there have been memorable moments, heartbreaking losses, legendary players, and more than a few cheap shots.

Remember when Packers defensive lineman Charles Martin body-slammed Bears quarterback Jim McMahon long after the whistle in 1986?

Remember Brett Favre and Aaron Rodgers reminding Bears fans that they "owned" Chicago?

That's what rivalries are built on, but what I love most about Packers-Bears isn't what happens on the field. It's the culture; the good-natured trash talk between neighbors; the tailgates, family arguments, and friendships that somehow survive despite one person wearing green and gold while the other wears navy and orange.

Some of us (a good friend) even married Bears fans. Lord knows I don't understand why. My fear is that if the Bears leave Chicago, something important gets lost. Even if they keep the name Chicago Bears, a team playing in Indiana just feels wrong.

You know what else feels wrong? The Bears playing in a new domed stadium. The Packers and Bears are old-school franchises with old-school fans. They're supposed to play in snow, freezing temperatures, rain, and whatever else Mother Nature decides to throw at them.

That's part of the identity. That's part of the rivalry.

And if the Bears leave that behind, they leave part of themselves behind, too.

So, for the sake of football tradition, for the sake of one of the greatest rivalries in sports, and for the sake of giving Packers fans someone to pick on every fall, I hope the Bears stay right where they belong: in Chicago.

Because if they move, the Packers may have to find a new team to own.

Hello, Detroit.

Reach James E. Causey at jcausey@jrn.com; follow him on X @jecausey.

This article originally appeared on Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: Moving the Bears to Indiana would destroy NFL's best rivalry | Opinion

Yesterday — 19 June 2026Yahoo! Sports - News, Scores, Standings, Rumors, Fantasy Games

Birthright citizenship helped build it. Meet World Cup USMNT. | Opinion

A lot of American teams have captured the imagination of fans and earned such monikers as the “Dream Team.” But none is quite like the gathering of soccer talent that thrashed Paraguay 4-1 on June 12 and will take on Australia on June 19 in its second World Cup match. 

It goes by the rather ordinary name of U.S. Men's National Team (USMNT). But there’s nothing ordinary about this diverse assortment of brash, driven, articulate, enterprising, hip, multilingual and immensely likable young men who defy convention and sneer at boundaries.  

They cut quite the figure, to say the least, with their fascinating backgrounds and engaging stories. 

From a son of a former president to a striker who got an assist from the 14th Amendment

One of them, winger Tim Weah, has four nationalities and is the son of a former president ‒ George Weah, who led Liberia from 2018-24 and who also was once FIFA World Player of the Year. 

Another, winger and midfielder Christian Pulisic, chartered a jet in 2016 to get to his high school prom in Pennsylvania. (Don’t we all?) It then brought him back to Kansas City the next day in time for him to score against Bolivia. 

Midfielder Weston McKennie is equal parts comic and keen analyst of the human condition. Defensive midfielder Tyler Adams answers questions – including hostile ones from Iranian media at the 2022 World Cup ‒ with such grace, aplomb and insight that he’s a good bet to be our president someday. 

Goalkeeper Matt Freese is a Harvard man, in a sport where few players go to any college. And El Paso, Texas, native and striker Ricardo Pepi chose to play for the USA even though his father dreamed for him to pick Mexico. 

Then there is striker Folarin Balogun, the accidental American who scored twice against Paraguay and has been an absolute breakout phenomenon in 2026. He has rarely set foot on our shores, but he's eligible to play for us because he was born in New York City ‒ a fact that he attributes to airline employees not allowing his pregnant mom to board a flight back to London in the summer of 2001. Credit birthright citizenship for the assist.

Your Turn: I'm excited for the World Cup. Soccer is our greatest sport. | Opinion Forum

'You had the choice to choose, and you chose America'

The U.S. Men's National Team (USMNT) announces its 2026 World Cup roster in New York City on May 26, 2026.

In all its insane glory, the USMNT is an apt metaphor for the United States, a nation growing more diverse by the moment and increasingly interconnected with the world. The team didn’t get this way by accident.

Though soccer has grown increasingly popular, the United States is still very much a football-basketball-baseball country at the youth development level ‒ meaning that, in one way or another, the members of this U.S. men's soccer team have had to try harder than other professional athletes to get where they are. 

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There are basically two types who dominate the roster:

The first grows up in Europe, holding U.S. citizenship through a parent or place of birth, and takes advantage of its many developmental academies that feed directly into top teams. In this category is forward Sergiño Dest. His mother is Dutch, his father Surinamese American. Apart from brief stints in Spain and Italy, he has lived in the Netherlands his entire life. 

When it came time to pick a national team, most observers assumed he'd go Dutch ‒ for the convenience, for the chance to play for a global soccer power and because its national team really wanted him. But it had been the U.S. soccer federation that had given him a chance on its underage teams, including stints at FIFA Under-17 and Under-20 World Cups. While on those teams, he developed deep loyalties – and deep friendships.  

In a recent HBO documentary, Dest's father, a Vietnam War veteran, explained how he sees things: “You’re more American if you’re not born (here). Because you had the choice to choose, and you chose America.” 

The other type of player is raised in the USA and somehow makes it work through sheer will power and an insatiable desire to be different. Eventually, he makes his way to Europe about the time his peers are finishing high school. 

Center back Chris Richards is a great example. He was drawn to soccer while growing up on the farthest planet from the American soccer galaxy: Alabama.

As he told the "Men in Blazers" podcast, “I felt like an outsider because I was the only kid who wasn’t playing football. But it wasn’t just that. It was that I was the only Black kid that was playing soccer.” 

Opinion alerts: Get columns from your favorite columnists + expert analysis on top issues, delivered straight to your device through the USA TODAY app. Don't have the app? Download it for free from your app store.

Despite the challenges, Richards did so well that, at 18, he found himself at the club perched at pretty much the pinnacle of European footballFC Bayern Munich. There, he was battling people from around the world for precious few roster spots. 

In an odd way, Richards' Alabama struggles made things easier: “I finally was seeing people that looked like me playing the sport I loved.”

It is people like these who make the national team so easy to like. They come to the World Cup with the not-so-modest dual mandate of showing the world that the USA is a legit soccer power and exploding on the domestic scene with such force as to drive up interest in their beloved sport.  

No, nothing ordinary about them. Just extraordinary.  

Dan Carney is a former editorial writer for USA TODAY.

You can read diverse opinions from our USA TODAY columnists and other writers on the Opinion front page, on X, formerly Twitter, @usatodayopinion and in our Opinion newsletter.

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: World Cup 2026 USMNT players are apt metaphor for America | Opinion

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