For years, the Chicago Bears were told they chose wrong.

When the franchise hired Ryan Poles as general manager, the noise was immediate and loud.
Across the division, Minnesota had landed Kwesi Adofo-Mensah—the analytically minded executive hailed as the future of NFL front offices.
Chicago, critics argued, had passed on innovation for familiarity. Data for instinct. Vision for comfort.
That narrative aged quickly. And now, it’s collapsing.

The Minnesota Vikings’ stunning decision to fire Adofo-Mensah late in January sent shockwaves across the league.
Not because the Vikings were bad—but because they weren’t. A 14-win season sat uncomfortably close in the rearview mirror.
Yet somehow, the organization found itself 9–8, out of the playoffs, without a clear quarterback answer, and searching for someone to blame.
They chose the GM.
The timing alone raised eyebrows. Personnel season is already underway. The Senior Bowl is happening. Decisions that shape rosters are being made in real time.

Instead of stability, Minnesota opted for upheaval, placing Rob Brzezinski in charge through the draft while promising a “thorough search” later.
It felt reactive. And quiet panic often does.
What makes this moment resonate in Chicago isn’t schadenfreude—it’s perspective. Bears fans were once told they had lost the GM sweepstakes.
That Poles was a conservative hire. That Adofo-Mensah’s intellect and long-term vision would run circles around him.
Instead, the Vikings are restarting, and the Bears… aren’t.

Minnesota let Sam Darnold walk after a 14-win season. He promptly led another NFC team straight to the Super Bowl.
Meanwhile, the Vikings’ future quarterback, J.J. McCarthy, now enters Year 3 with more interceptions than touchdown passes. No scandal. No collapse. Just decisions that quietly didn’t work.
And someone had to own them.
In Chicago, Poles has survived something just as difficult as winning: restraint. He hasn’t chased headlines.
He hasn’t fought his head coach for control. Instead, he’s operated in partnership—listening, adjusting, and building with intent rather than ego.
That collaboration showed up clearly in the draft. Colston Loveland. Luther Burden III. Ozzy Trapilo. Kyle Monangai.
A class that reflected alignment between coaching vision and front office execution. Not perfection—but coherence.
That matters more than buzz.

The Bears now have something they’ve lacked for years: internal clarity. A head coach confident enough to define what he needs, and a general manager secure enough to accept it.
No power struggle spilling into the media. No philosophical tug-of-war. Just progress, measured and quiet.
Across the division, Minnesota is left with questions. Kevin O’Connell appears to have survived any internal reckoning—for now.
But 9–8 with that roster is not a ringing endorsement. If ownership needed a reset, it didn’t land where many expected.
That’s the irony. Chicago was supposed to regret Poles. Minnesota was supposed to validate its bold choice.
Instead, one franchise is steady. The other is searching.

No victory laps are being taken at Halas Hall. There’s still work to do, especially on defense. But as the Vikings scramble to redefine their future, the Bears can finally say something unfamiliar:
Their house is in order.
And in the NFL, that might be the rarest advantage of all.
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