A few days after the Viking game, Butkus is in another North Side German restaurant. He is quiet, reserved and unhappy, because he feels that the Vikings didn’t show the Bears much, didn’t beat them physically nor with any great show of proficiency. I can’t help thinking that a man of his talent would get tired of this kind of second-rate football.
“Don’t you ever get bored? Don’t you think of retiring from this grind?”
“No way!”
“But what do you get from it? It’s got to be very frustrating. Why do you play?”
“Hell. That’s like asking a guy why he f***s.”