By Bill Bernardoni – a Chicago-based media and marketing executive—and lifelong Chicago sports fan—who desperately wants this franchise to get out of its own way.

Kevin, Bears fans—

This isn’t written with malice. It’s written with frustration, familiarity, and a deep understanding of how politics, media, and leverage actually work—in direct response to today’s open letter from President & CEO Kevin Warren announcing that the Bears are expanding their stadium search to include Northwest Indiana.

Warren insists “this is not about leverage.” Yet the public announcement, its timing, and the immediate backlash fit the classic pattern of a pressure play aimed at Springfield. Governor Pritzker’s office quickly called it a “startling slap in the face” to loyal fans rallying around a 10-4 team in the middle of a winning season. That swift reaction only reinforces what has been clear for years: in Illinois, marketing-driven pressure rarely substitutes for the patient, relationship-based politics required to move generational projects forward.

The Bears are one of the most iconic brands in American sports. And yet, the stadium search has unfolded like a case study in institutional dysfunction: poor sequencing, mixed signals, misread politics, and baffling timing. If the goal was clarity, confidence, and momentum, the execution has produced the opposite.

Let’s walk through how we got here—and why today’s move fits the pattern.

I. How the Stadium Search Became a Public Disaster

Before going any further, it’s important to be fair about responsibility.

The first and most consequential mistake in this process did not belong to Kevin Warren.

The Bears’ decision to purchase the Arlington Heights property without a fully negotiated, durable agreement in place on property taxes and long-term governance predates his tenure. That choice—made under prior leadership—set the franchise on a difficult path before Warren ever arrived in Lake Forest.

Once the land was purchased, the Bears were no longer negotiating from a position of clean leverage. They owned the asset, but not the certainty. That distinction matters enormously in public-sector deals, especially in Illinois.

Kevin Warren was hired in early 2023 to navigate exactly this kind of complexity. On paper, the hire made sense: a big-picture thinker with league credibility, experience in large-scale partnerships, and an understanding of how to position a franchise for long-term growth. He inherited a situation that was already compromised.

Where criticism does fairly apply is not in intent, but in execution—particularly politically.

From that point forward, the Bears attempted to play Arlington Heights and Chicago against one another—never fully committing to either, while floating proposals just concrete enough to generate headlines but never firm enough to produce legislative buy-in. That strategy might work in other states. It does not work in Illinois.

The most glaring example came with the press conference held alongside the Mayor of Chicago the day before the most important draft in franchise history.

From a marketing standpoint, the move made sense: visibility, urgency, optics. From a political standpoint, it misfired. The Mayor—regardless of who occupies the office—has virtually no sway over the people who actually matter in a stadium deal. The Illinois General Assembly controls the levers. The Mayor does not.

That moment encapsulated the broader issue. Kevin Warren understands leverage and narrative. What he has not yet demonstrated is a working understanding of how Illinois politics actually functions.

What everyone predicted would happen… happened.

The legislature did nothing.

With Chicago going nowhere, the Bears pivoted back—hard—to Arlington Heights. Renderings were released. Messaging shifted. The organization put all its eggs back into that basket. But here again, political execution lagged behind marketing momentum.

I know this because I spoke directly with multiple Illinois legislators in August—just before veto session—including one of the Illinois State Minority Leaders, Sue Rezin. None of them had heard from anyone associated with the Bears. No outreach. No listening tour. No attempt to understand political red lines or structural constraints.

That’s not how deals get done here.

And so we arrive at today’s surreal moment.

Releasing a major stadium announcement just days before the prime-time Bears-Packers rivalry showdown on December 20—with massive playoff implications and the team riding high at 10-4—is baffling from a sports standpoint. It distracts from on-field success, injects unnecessary negativity, and alienates a fanbase finally enjoying a strong, hopeful season. From a political standpoint, it’s revealing.

II. Illinois Politics Is Not Like Anywhere Else

A brief word about where I’m coming from—because context matters here.

Before media and marketing, I spent years as a political consultant, running campaigns at every level. Because of that experience, I understand Illinois politics better than most—and Illinois is not just another state in the stadium playbook.

Illinois politics is relationship-driven and personality-driven, with lawmakers acutely attuned to what their constituents are experiencing—and what they are not willing to tolerate right now. And that skepticism is heightened right now.

This is a state led by a governor who is almost certainly running for president in 2028. That matters. Governor Pritzker does not need the Bears politically. He gains little from being perceived as the governor who wrote a blank check to a privately owned NFL franchise—especially as voters are increasingly focused on affordability, housing, transit reliability, education, healthcare, public safety, and long-term fiscal stability.

Property taxes sit squarely in the middle of that concern set.

Illinois residents are already reeling from rising property tax burdens. Any stadium proposal that even appears to cut a professional sports franchise to the front of the line for relief—while families and small businesses struggle to make their own tax bills make sense—was always going to face resistance, regardless of party or geography.

Illinois State Representative Kam Buckner captured the political reality succinctly. While acknowledging parts of the Bears’ frustration, he noted that public funding for a new stadium has not been a legislative priority—not because lawmakers are anti-sports, but because giving public money to a professional franchise doesn’t crack the top 100 issues constituents are asking about right now.

The General Assembly, he explained, has been focused on affordability, housing costs, transit reliability, education, healthcare, public safety, and keeping the state on stable financial footing—because that’s what legislators hear about every single day.

He also made another point worth sitting with: this strategy is familiar.

In the 1990s, when the Bears were unhappy with Soldier Field, Indiana was floated as an alternative. That play didn’t work then. Since then, fans and lawmakers have heard different versions of this conversation repeatedly—leaving Soldier Field, leaving Arlington Heights, and now Indiana again.

The quote that stuck with me most was this: “This plan has a lot of rushing yards in it—but too few of them are straightforward.”

Generational projects, he argued, aren’t built on a hurry-up offense or relocation rhetoric. They’re built through balanced, sensible conversations that respect public priorities and fiscal reality.

That framing matters. Because while Missouri recently found a way—after voters rejected a stadium tax—to commit significant resources to keep the Chiefs and Royals, Illinois lawmakers are keenly aware that their politics are different. The question facing the Bears isn’t whether Illinois will copy Missouri’s model, but whether the franchise is hoping for a similar outcome without first doing the political groundwork required to get there.

And that brings us back to strategy.

III. The Marketing Strategy Everyone Is Talking About—for Better and Worse

From a pure marketing standpoint, I understand today’s move.

Injecting Indiana into the conversation now creates pressure. It widens the audience. It ensures that the stadium story isn’t confined to Springfield hearing rooms or suburban zoning debates. Over the next several weeks, the Bears will command more local and national attention than at any point in the last five to seven years—through broadcasts, pregame shows, ESPN panels, ESPN 1000, and 670 The Score.

That attention is leverage.

Past enthusiastic responses from Indiana officials weren’t accidental, and they certainly weren’t a surprise to Bears leadership. Today’s signal is aimed squarely at Governor Pritzker and the Illinois General Assembly: the Bears have options, and delay carries consequences.

As a marketing tactic, it’s effective. It forces the issue into the public conversation. It raises the stakes. It applies pressure.

But marketing leverage is not the same thing as political leverage.

The risk is that this approach reframes the Bears not as a civic partner seeking a solution, but as a brand willing to destabilize its own identity to extract concessions. When the spotlight is brightest, the narrative hardens quickly—and not always in your favor.

If this was always intended as leverage—and not a sincere relocation threat—the safer play would have been quieter, later, and more controlled. Back-channel conversations. No press releases. No public countdown clocks.

Because once relocation rhetoric goes public, you no longer control how it’s received—by fans, lawmakers, sponsors, or the broader public.

And that brings us to the core brand question.

IV. Will the Bears Actually Move to Indiana?

Let’s be honest.

This is, first and foremost, a leverage play.

Kevin Warren and the Bears’ leadership are trying to extract the best possible terms from Illinois—financially, legislatively, and operationally. Indiana is being used as the alternative to sharpen the ask.

That’s standard practice.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: leverage cuts both ways.

While a full relocation remains unlikely in the short term, if Illinois leadership decides they don’t want to play ball—if they conclude the political cost outweighs the benefit—then yes, the Bears could actually move. Northwest Indiana offers land, political alignment, and a governor eager for a legacy win.

It would fracture the Bears’ identity. It would permanently alter their relationship with Chicago. And it would be remembered as one of the most consequential relocations in NFL history.

But it is not unthinkable.

And that’s precisely why this strategy is so dangerous.

Because once you make the threat public, you lose control of the narrative—and you may be forced to act on a bluff you never intended to call, eroding trust along the way.

V. A Closing Thought

Illinois voters are not going to write a blank check.

They also haven’t forgotten that roughly $356 million in debt is still owed on Soldier Field—a bill that will linger long after the Bears leave, no matter where they ultimately land. That reality hangs over every conversation about public participation in a new stadium.

There is little appetite—on either side of the aisle—for asking taxpayers to subsidize billionaire sports owners without clear, shared benefit. That sentiment isn’t ideological; it’s practical.

And yet, a deal is still possible.

But Kevin, here’s the hard truth: in Illinois, they are not going to come to you.

You need to go to them.

That means early engagement with legislators, listening before proposing, and respecting the fact that this state’s politics reward patience more than pressure. Minnesota’s playbook doesn’t apply here. Illinois requires its own approach.

The McCaskey family’s legacy is inextricably tied to Chicago. Moving the Bears would inflict generational damage on that legacy—damage that is entirely avoidable with better political sequencing and quieter, more respectful conversations.

This franchise doesn’t need louder leverage. It needs better relationships, smarter timing, and a strategy grounded in the political reality of the state it has called home for more than a century.

The Bears can still get this right.

But it starts by understanding where they are—and how Illinois actually works.

Bear Down—in Illinois.