Was that column written by me, or was it AI trying to imitate me?

So, I asked myself, what is this AI business all about anyhow? Everybody is worried about it. Or are they? Maybe it is AI doing the worrying. Who can tell?

More importantly, what does it have to do with me?

So, I asked AI, or maybe myself. Who can tell? Who am I?

"Bernie Lincicome is a sports columnist and author known for his work covering various sports. Lincicome is recognized for his sharp and often humorous commentary on sports events and personalities."

Well, OK, AI. Mostly accurate and oddly approving, but "often humorous?" Hmmmm.

Unconvinced, I probed further. Tell me, AI, in a column on the Bears I concluded that the Bears offer three options - footwipe, hand towel or doggie bag.

Top that AI, in my style, of course.

"The Chicago Bears, a team that dances between triumph and tribulation like a clumsy ballet. Their performance on the field resembles a dramatic play, leaving fans wondering if they're watching a comedy or tragedy. As the Bears navigate the gridiron, it's a roller coaster of emotions for those who bleed navy blue and orange, with each game a chapter in a never-ending novel of hope and heartache."

Well, a little verbose maybe, AI, but you have caught something there. This is getting annoying.

What do I say about Justin Fields, my favorite piñata?

"Justin Fields, the maestro of the gridiron, orchestrating plays with a symphony of skill, leaving defenders dancing in confusion - a football virtuoso."

Ah, no way would I call Fields a maestro. Nor a virtuoso. In fact, what I actually called him was "an amazing conversation piece, someone who does the outstanding without making a difference."

And, by the way, neither AI nor myself made the mistake of calling Fields an NFL quarterback.

Sports Illustrated, the former print paradigm and swimsuit hustler, had to apologize for pieces written by AI using fake names and manufactured content. If SI can be fooled, standards have fallen dangerously low.

Red Smith, the best of all of us, was once asked how to write a column. "Just sit down at a typewriter and open a vein," he said. Ah, if Red could only see us now. You start the computer and log in to ChatGPT. The rest, as Hamlet said, is silence.

Try this, AI. What do I think about FSU being left out of the College Football Playoff?

"Well, Florida State's exclusion is about as surprising as finding sand at the beach. They're like the forgotten relative at the family reunion - you almost forget they exist until someone mentions them, and then you remember why they were overlooked in the first place."

Exactly. I could not have said it better myself. And I wish I had.

What about Craig Counsell becoming the new Cubs manager? Huh? What do I think about that, AI Know It All?

"Well, isn't that a twist of fate? Counsell, the strategist extraordinaire, now at the helm of the Cubs. Let's hope he can weave some magic and turn those lovable losers into winners. It's a tall order, but if anyone can do it, it's Counsell - the maestro with a plan."

Maestro again? Let me say this, AI, the only maestro ever in Chicago sports was Michael Jordan, and I never called him anything but Jordan, although I did once have a complete conversation in German using only gestures and his initials.

Here's a tough one, AI. How could I fix the White Sox?

"You might want to adopt a sharp, witty and critical tone. Discuss potential team weaknesses, managerial decisions, or player performances with a humorous and insightful approach. Don't forget to sprinkle in some clever wordplay and memorable phrases."

Thanks for nothing, AI, and don't you mean "often humorous?"

Let's get right to it, AI. Could I ever be replaced by AI?

"In the ever-evolving dance between man and machine, we find ourselves trading the warmth of human touch for the cold efficiency of algorithms. The symphony of life replaced by the monotony of artificial intelligence, leaving us to ponder the cost of progress."

I wish I had said that. Maybe I did.