Come Sunday, Bears fans will descend upon Soldier Field clad in all manner of orange and blue. Some will carry signs inscribed with blue-collar poetry. Others will plaster on body paint and bear the cold shirtless in support of their helmeted heroes.
To Glenn Timmermann, these are mere gestures.
“They get dressed for the three hours,” he said. “But Monday through Friday nobody knows who you are, what team you root for.”
Not Timmermann.
He’s a Bears fan. With the autographs of 45 current and former Bears players and coaches tattooed on various parts of his 5-foot-2 frame, some might say he’s the Bears fan. For life.
The Round Lake Beach man’s pantheon of scribbled body art started in October 2005 at an autograph event with former Bears player Otis Wilson. As he noticed other people in line carrying footballs and helmets, Timmermann realized he had nothing for Wilson to sign.
When his turn came, he asked the ex-linebacker to sign his back; the shocked Wilson complied. Timmermann rushed to a tattoo parlor and made it permanent.
Forty-four names later, the system has changed little. Timmermann scours the Internet for scheduled appearances of current and former Bears. He then makes an appointment with his tattoo artist and heads to the event, marker in hand.
With the signature secured, he has to be careful–sweat, rain or other moisture can smear it. When offensive tackle John St. Clair signed the back of his neck, Timmermann’s collar smudged the ink, and he opted not to have it tattooed.
In the beginning, the tattoos cost $50 apiece, but now he pays a bulk rate, $20 per name.
Some players’ inscriptions are short and sweet. Brian Urlacher’s autograph resembles a pair of tadpoles in which only the “B,” “U” and “L” are distinguishable. Devin Hester simply left his initials and number, 23.
Other signers were more verbose, like Richard Dent, who wrote “Richard Dent, 95 … Good Luck … MVP XX.”
Somewhere amid all the painful visits to the tattoo parlor, Timmermann’s tattoos became a mission, said Oscar Bustos, who inked most of them in his Round Lake Beach shop.
“He realized, `This collection is mine, and I’m gonna have the biggest and baddest collection out there,'” Bustos said.
“People can rob your house, take your stuff, [but] no one can ever take your tattoos.”
Tattooing is nothing new. Crusaders marching on the Holy Land in the 11th, 12th and 13th Centuries got crosses tattooed on their arms, signifying that they wanted a Christian burial.
Firemen in 18th-Century Japan adorned their backs with tattoos of outlaw heroes. Natives of Polynesia were known to bear tattoos on their faces indicating their rank, clan and lineage.
Timmermann’s motivations might not be far off those of the ancient peoples, experts said.
For many people who get tattoos, the artwork signifies aspects that the bearer sees as innate to his sense of self, said Terisa Green, a Los Angeles-based author who has written about tattoo history and culture.
“If you decide to commit it to your body, you’re saying that whatever you say is permanent,” she said.
Timmermann also is defining what he’s not, Green added.
“Everyone else is a regular fan. He’s setting himself apart.”
Edward Hirt, a professor of psychology at Indiana University who studies fan behavior, said die-hard fans take pride in being loyal.
“It’s the kind of thing that makes you different from the fair-weather fans,” Hirt said.
Timmermann, a father of four and grandfather of two who works as a manager at a packing company in Gurnee, has been a Bears fan as long as he can remember.
He tried to score a ticket to Sunday’s game. Although he would love to go and yell his head off, he’ll be happy heading to the local tavern.
But there’s nothing like being at Soldier Field, he said, and taking off his hat. On the back of his smoothly shaven head, lies the crowning glory of his collection: Mike Ditka.
One Sunday last summer, Ditka was signing autographs for charity.
“I said, `I got nothing for you; would you sign me?” Timmermann recalled. “So I turned around, and I took my shirt off” to show his other tattoos.
After a failed first attempt–“[Expletive]!” the coach muttered, “Your skin moved!”–Ditka gripped Timmermann’s shoulder and neck and signed his name.
Even with Ditka’s name and a four-inch Bears logo on the back of his head, there’s room for one more coach, Timmermann said–Lovie Smith.
That hallowed turf is reserved for Super Bowl winners.
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alwang@tribune.com
