At first glance, it might appear that a football piñata has exploded, what with this scattershot of color-coded notes, nuggets, statistical data and scouting insights spread across two pieces of laminated 11×17 paper. Understand, though, that there’s purpose folded within.
For Jeff Joniak, who’s coming down the stretch of Season 25 as the play-by-play man on Chicago Bears radio broadcasts, the process of putting together his oversized “cheat sheets” for each game has become muscle memory.
In normal weeks, these boards take 2 1/2 days to fully come alive, for the conversations to unfold, for the research to be gathered, for this waterfall of information to roar in a manner that creates expertise Joniak can share across three hours of the ESPN-1000 broadcast.
“Sadly,” Joniak says, “I rarely actually refer to (the board) during the game. But it’s knowledge you earn over the course of the week that then just flows out in conversation.”
For Joniak, there’s no such thing as overpreparing. Plus, it’s difficult to know when he might need to share all he knows about Rashan Gary’s varied burst patterns off the snap. He may need to opine on Joe Thuney’s determined career path to more than 10,000 regular-season snaps, or the reality that the Bears are a top-five team in time of possession and may need to lean into that Saturday night to keep a dangerous Green Bay Packers offense off the field.
Joniak’s aim across all these years has been to consistently provide insight, perspective and football wisdom to go along with the passion-on-every-play reaction he delivers so naturally.
“I don’t want to just call a game,” he says. “I want to give you more than that.”
Perhaps that’s why these boards register as so relevant to the journey, to Joniak’s quarter-century as the real-time narrator of Bears history. Sure, they are simply a variation of what almost every play-by-play announcer uses. These are distinctly his, however, because of the energy investment pumped in and the intel that pours out.
“This is my methodology,” Joniak says. “People question me all the time. ‘Why don’t you just do half of what you do?’ Well, then I’d feel I’m giving half-effort.”
Half-effort? For a gig as exhilarating as this? No chance.
Joniak, 64, pinches himself constantly with the self-reminder of the thousands upon thousands who’d kill for his job. Each time, his commitment strengthens.
“My preparation,” he says, “underscores the gratitude and humility I have for getting this job, earning this job and keeping this job. … I want to look in the mirror every game-day morning and say, ‘I did everything in my power to prepare for this.”
For those keeping count, Joniak called his 400th regular-season game late last month in Philadelphia, a signature victory over the Eagles on Black Friday. His 500th Bears game of any kind came five days earlier in a home victory over the Pittsburgh Steelers.
Just two weeks ago, Joniak’s 50th call of the Bears-Packers rivalry arrived. It ended with a familiar result: a Green Bay win sealed when quarterback Caleb Williams threw an interception in the end zone in the final minute.
Across 25 seasons, that was the 38th Packers victory over the Bears that Joniak has called with too many scars to count or recap.
“I get sick of losing to them,” he says. “I can tell you that. But you look forward to every single one of them.”
That includes this Saturday night, absolute football theater off the shore of Lake Michigan. It’ll be a prime-time showdown at Soldier Field with first place on the line.
This week’s stakes only enhance the juice in a rivalry that has had Joniak’s full admiration since long before his first time on the call: a Brett Favre-led 20-12 Packers win at the old Soldier Field in November 2001.
“It’s Americana,” Joniak says. “It’s the roots of the sport. It’s Lombardi, it’s Halas. It’s the 27 combined championships and 1,600-plus victories they’ve had in the National Football League.
“I am blessed beyond belief, for 25 years, to be a part of this. It’s wild.”
Joniak pauses to consider why his gratitude for this opportunity has never receded across 25 seasons. He becomes speechless, choking up as he apologizes for this sudden wave of emotion. He knows there is a deeper personal layer to his never-ending push to become as good as he can be.
His love of football, after all, stems directly from his father, Ed. The two bonded most through sports, always their go-to topic of conversation. There were high school games together, burgers afterward. That kind of thing.
When Joniak began trying his hand at play-by-play in college, calling Iowa State baseball games on student radio, he hoped his dad would be drawn in. On one drive home from Ames, Iowa, Joniak played the audio of his Cyclones calls.
“I wasn’t good,” he says. “I wasn’t. But it was a big, big deal to me. Like, ‘Dad, look at what I’m doing here.'”
He couldn’t get a full read on the reaction.
Truth be told, Joniak’s connection with his father carried tension that was often challenging to navigate. By his own admission, Jeff lacked confidence as a kid. His dad, he says, was high-strung and drove him hard.
“I needed reassurance,” Joniak says. “But I just didn’t ever have that environment of, ‘Ya know what. You’re good at what you do.’ I never felt good enough. I never felt like I could hit that home run with my dad.”
Ed Joniak has been gone for more than 34 years now, stricken by scleroderma, a vicious autoimmune disease that took his life at age 53, a decade before Jeff’s biggest career break.
Joniak can’t even imagine how mind-blowing his professional joy ride would have been to his father, particularly given the longevity he has attained and with all he has poured into this. Even if just for a couple of minutes, he’d love to tell his old man all about the journey and how he devoted himself to becoming successful. To tell him why he did so.
“Because he was so tough on me,” Joniak says through a crack in his voice, “I still think I’m trying to make him proud.”
Most of the time, mere hours after a game, Joniak’s brain experiences what he calls “a data dump.” Instinctively, he flushes that day’s info and quickly begins prep for his next opportunity to be a compelling storyteller.
Every single week, he’ll paint himself a picture of his listeners. Sometimes they’re in the car or at the office, or maybe in their living rooms, trying to pair the radio sound with the TV broadcast. Other times, it’s those old-timers he hears from every season, those devoted to bringing the company of Joniak and color analyst Tom Thayer into the stands at Soldier Field.
“To this day, believe it or not, I have older fans who tell me they still bring their transistor radio to the game to listen. Because that’s the way they grew up with it,” he said.
Years ago, at a Super Bowl, Joniak crossed paths and had a meaningful conversation with NFL Films legend Steve Sabol, who offered validation by telling Joniak that the local radio broadcasts from all 32 teams helped take his group’s product to new levels. Sabol described it as “the perfect marriage.”
“Because it brought the fandom within the broadcasts to life,” Joniak says. “Look, we’re all screamers. We’re all losing our minds. And I know there are critics out there who evaluate us play-by-play folks and want the neutrality and don’t appreciate the screaming and all the emotion. C’mon, man! That’s all out the window. This is what we do. The calls bring everything to life.”
Think about the final minute in Cincinnati last month. The Bears were down one after blowing a 14-point lead late. With 25 seconds remaining, Caleb Williams was awaiting a shotgun snap.
Safeties are back deep. Odunze motions left. They’re blitzing. It’s picked up. Caleb throws … Middle of the field. Loveland catch. Breaks away at the 30! Loveland 20! Loveland 10! Loveland end zone! Touchdown Bears!
Fifty-eight yards. Williams to rookie Colston Loveland. Bears 47, Bengals 42.
Holy adrenaline rush.
“You’re kidding yourself if you’re trying to perfectly capture every moment,” Joniak says. “But you strive to capture the big ones with the proper context.”
Over a quarter-century at the mic, Joniak has narrated 10 last-place finishes by the Bears against only six playoff appearances. Season No. 25, though, appears destined for the latter category.
In some ways, it’s wild to consider the parallels of this success surge to Joniak’s first year, a surprise, 13-win run in 2001, fueled by the team’s belief and frequent late-game magic.
This season has also carried 2018 vibes with a new coach igniting a rapid turnaround while energizing Halas Hall and much of the city with his self-confidence and charisma.
To that end, Joniak is unapologetically smitten with Ben Johnson, whose daily approach to chasing excellence feels electric. Joniak most respects how quickly Johnson has molded a team in Chicago’s image, by Joniak’s description, “a rough-and-tumble bunch that is physical and nasty and won’t cower in the face of the pressure of big moments.”
It’s grit and mettle made for NFL Films.
“Muddy fields and bloody brow,” Joniak says. “That’s my cup of tea. That’s the football I grew up with. And I love the way Ben embraces that.”
As has been well-publicized, Johnson sure would enjoy beating Packers coach Matt LaFleur on Saturday night. His audacity in boldly swinging at the longtime bullies in Wisconsin gets Joniak’s blood pumping.
“Listen, man. Ben fits right in line with the history of this series,” Joniak says. “We’ve had some really powerful men involved along the way. He’s a fearless human being. He looks at the game that way. He calls the game that way. He wants to win that way.”
Colleagues past and present note how Joniak studies and prepares more like an NFL personnel executive than a play-by-play guy. Those who have spent any significant time around him have felt his manic energy, watching him waterbug from task to task, frequently revved up, sometimes overwhelmed, always locked in on his labor of love.
As a color analyst, Thayer has been at Joniak’s side for all 25 seasons and laughs when recalling an exchange during a commercial break earlier this year when Joniak felt obligated to correct him on the exact height of a player.
“I was off, so Jeff said, by three-eighths of an inch,” Thayer says. “He can be as frustrating as the little brother I wish I’d never had.'”
Thayer, though, also knows a little something about dedication and work ethic. He was raised by incredibly hardworking parents in Joliet, Ill., and, oh yeah, was the starting right guard for the 1985 Bears. He watched Walter Payton work. He felt Mike Singletary’s passion. Joniak, Thayer says without hesitation, “works as hard as anybody I’ve been around in my life.”
Thayer, who started every game in his eight seasons with the Bears, recognizes something within his partner, a similar drive to what he felt as a player.
“I walked into that facility every day with a fear of losing my job,” Thayer says. “I think we both still live that way. You never think, ‘Hey, we’re over the hump. We’re going to do this forever.’ No. You have to show up every day. You have to prepare every day. You have to do something every day during a football season that feeds your mind, information that keeps you alive, that keeps you in tune with the team, the game, the day.”
It can be difficult to admit, but after almost 25 full seasons, even as the established and well-respected voice of the Chicago Bears, Joniak still doesn’t feel worthy. He is constantly burdened by distressing doubt, perfectionist urges and the curse of being intensely self-critical.
“I beat myself up all the time,” he says. “I’ve done that throughout my entire career. So often, I don’t love what comes out of my mouth. I wish I’d have said it different.”
All that does, however, is fuel his intense work habits and feed into what he acknowledges is a football obsession. Plus, it’s not just his game broadcasts that he’s responsible for delivering. Joniak does hits on ESPN-1000 throughout every week. He hosts the Bears’ official podcast, “Bears, Etc.” He does features for official team content and is a headliner on “Bears Game Day Live,” Fox-32’s official TV pregame show.
After every game, home or away, he has postgame interviews outside the locker room for Marquee Sports Network. Then, he’s off to Michigan Avenue downtown for “Bears Game Night Live” on Fox-32.
It’s a frenetic, taxing existence, and it often has proved quite straining to Joniak as a father, a partner, a son and a friend. He knows his dedication has not always been healthy.
“It’s a very selfish pursuit to be in this career,” he says. “But these jobs are rare. They are very hard to get. So you have to continually push the envelope to be great. With that comes sacrifice.”
Joniak emphasizes that none of this was the plan. Throughout childhood, he had his sights set on becoming a meteorologist. Even after changing paths late in college and veering into sports media, his ascension to become the Bears radio play-by-play man — following Gary Bender and Wayne Larrivee at age 39 — registered as surprising to many, given Joniak’s relative inexperience and lower profile.
Maybe, subconsciously, that has also pushed Joniak to be all gas and no brakes. He still vividly recalls the combination of delight and anxiety he felt when this door was opened for him.
“I am not going to change one thing about how I approach this from the first time they told me I was going to get this opportunity,” he says.
Well, there is one thing that has changed.
Joniak laughs as he considers the evolution of his game boards over the past 25 years. As a rookie in 2001 and over his first few seasons, those original versions were, by his own description, “psycho,” practically the size of a garage door with stickers and scribbles everywhere. Those massive posters were so large that Joniak went to a local art shop and bought a big blue carrying case to move them about and take them on the road. For good reason, that became the source of much ribbing from peers.
Quips Thayer: “Jeff’s boards may have shrunk. But it’s only because he’s using smaller font. There’s no less information on them.”
Truthfully, though, a sample of those original mini-billboards — still stored somewhere inside Joniak’s garage — probably deserves space in Chicago’s Art Institute as an exhibit of the purpose-filled preparation for which Joniak will never apologize.
“To this day, my approach is the same,” he says. “I want to close my eyes and be able to tell you everything about the opposition we’re going to face. Everybody knows the key players. But what about the insight you learn about a player or the inner-workings of a team that isn’t talked about on talk radio or written up by the beat writers?”
That’s the quest Joniak is on, every damn week.
The Packers are coming to town this weekend. He has a lot left to get done to be ready.
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