Tuesday, November 08, 2005

The Road to 4-12, Week 9

As often noted, if you're named "Joe Montana," you're destined to be a Hall of Fame quarterback. "Cody Pickett," however, was born to rope calves & throw behind receivers.

It's just unfun to be a 49er fan. Unfortunately, I caught part of Sunday's game against the Giants in a bar here in New York. Excruciatingly futile. Like rooting for the sun not to go down. Like rooting for pi to end. Where's the fun in endless 3-and-outs and 8-yard Tiki Barber runs up the middle? You really can't blame the rodeo clown; passes were dropped and the O-line looked like they'd rather be making daisy chains. I think one camera actually caught Eric Heitmann braiding his chest hair as a blitzer flattened Pickett.

This is a far cry from the glory days of the Giants-49ers rivalry, the days of Walsh and Parcells, the days of a drunken Pat Summerall (confused and uncomprehending, playing it safe) simply repeating "Morris. Joe Morris." Even the Jeff Garcia-led playoff comeback of a couple of years ago now seems part of some bygone era of competence.

Maybe we can get Terrell Owens back. Didn't he say the Eagles would be undefeated if Cody Pickett were their QB instead of McNabb? By the way, when the Niners get shut out next Sunday by the Bears, watch Mike Singletary's eyes grow huge on the sideline. He might just sprint onto the field and flatten Pickett himself. Muscle memory.