If, like many passionate and mildly pessimistic football fans, you look for and often easily find fatalistic omens, you likely watched the Packers return an awkward, ill-advised Colin Kaepernick pass for a touchdown on the 49ers’ first drive Saturday night at the Stick and immediately flashed back to Craig Newsome’s fumble return for a TD on
San Francisco’s first offensive play against Green Bay on the same field in the 1996 divisional playoff game.
You also likely thought, “Oh, no. The kid’s not ready for this. This could be a looooong night.”
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Those entrusted with policing the National Baseball Hall of Fame, by voting upon who gets in and when (or not at all), have always been a questionable lot.
Wednesday removed all question. This is a motley crew at best. At worst, they reveal the 2013 Hall of Fame voting results during a live TV special that was so short of being truly special that it veered toward maudlin.
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Nobody can dispute the incredible fortune that came the 49ers’ way last Sunday. Not only did they take care of business against the lowly Cardinals in a game that was all but won before kickoff, they saw various other cards fall in the most beneficial of ways.
The Vikes over the Pack? Yeah, you had that in your knockout pool, right? No, you didn’t. As phenomenal as the Adrian Peterson story in Minnesota has been, Green Bay’s midseason resurrection was every bit as impressive.
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It’s that time of year for sportswriters. A week after Santa does it, we make a list and check it twice to find out which stories from 2012 were, well, naughty or nice.
Only this time, let’s leave out the naughty. Negativity feels out of place around New Year’s Day. Thus, we’ll stick to the pleasant memories that stood out. A decade from now, the following likely still will bring smiles to the faces of those involved and witnesses thereof.
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Christmas came early for Giants and A’s fans this season, in two fairly different forms.The Giants’ gift to their wildly fortunate fan base was straightforward. And as far as gifts go, it was pretty inexpensive.It was the gift of continuity, in the form of bringing back virtually every meaningful piece of the team that gave its city a second world title in three years.Most years, re-signing the likes of Marco Scutaro and Angel Pagan wouldn’t hold a candle to a gleaming new luxury car with an obnoxious red bow sitting in the driveway, but this isn’t most years.
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How did we get from hand-wringing panic heading into Sunday’s game in New England to hang-wringing panic in the wake of an epic upset?
By falling into the all-too-easy trap that is being a 49ers fan.
We’re never gonna make it. ... We’re all gonna die. ... Look at all of these new problems to worry about!
It’s been this way since back in the glory days of Joe Montana, Jerry Rice, Roger Craig, Steve Young, Bill Walsh, George Seifert and Eddie D. Just when you start to feel like you own the world, a creeping sense of dread takes over.
Why?
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What I’m about to address is a tad past its news cycle, but forgive me. More pressing issues have been at hand.
After all, I haven’t yet been ruled out as the 49ers’ starting quarterback, so I’ve been busy taking “first-team reps” with little Timmy, Johnny and Phil out on the asphalt of my cul-de-sac.
But the Andrew Bogut issue needs to be addressed here, if for no other reason than I have yet to see anyone give him the props he deserves for cutting through the B.S. the Warriors have been feeding us lemmings.
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All aboard! Next stop, Crazy Town.
I’m your conductor, Jim Harbaugh, and all communication henceforth shall be liberally sprinkled with misdirection, outright evasion and, well, more than a little sheer lunacy.
Welcome to me. And get used to it, because quite frankly, I don’t give a damn what you think of me or the veracity of whatever might spill from my grill at any given moment.
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As you read this today, I’ll likely be in the icy Pacific Ocean off the coast of Aptos, atop a boogie board. Grinning ear to ear, I’ll be dropping into a smallish wave that will take me all the way to the shore and into the unconditionally giddy embrace of my 8- and 9-year-old daughters.Unless, of course, they drop into the wave before me — or muscle me off it. They’ve been wetsuited-up and riding waves since they were 3 and 4, so the possibility of them beating me to the punch very much exists these days.
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When the 49ers drafted Colin Kaepernick, they did so with the express intent to someday — someday very soon — install him as their starting quarterback.
He’d just put up collegiate numbers, with his legs and with his MLB-drafted right arm, akin to the cartoonish stats posted by none other than Cam Newton.
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Anyone else notice that there’s no such thing as an offseason anymore?
OK, maybe in hockey there is. Or does having no season at all count? Regardless, even when hockey does have a season, its offseason is about as compelling as a Buster Posey interview.
Wow, is that cat dry or what?
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What a ride. The 2012 Major League Baseball season was a boon to the Bay Area, where both of our teams churned out storybook story lines all spring, summer and into fall.
It’s all over now, though. The confetti has been swept away. But even though awards season is just getting started, eye-opening trades are already being made, and the Josh Hamilton sweepstakes promises to provide captivating theater throughout the winter, it’s time for sports fans to shift their focus elsewhere.
Let’s start with the Warriors since they started this week.
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As the various cable cars, floats and other vehicles of celebration work their way down Market Street today for our great city’s second World Series parade in three years, fans will get another long and loving look at everyone who had a hand in bringing that shiny flag-festooned trophy back to the shores of McCovey Cove.
And there will be, among the hundreds of thousands of revelers, an understandable temptation to ponder the question of who among the many objects of this unconditional outpouring of affection had the biggest hand in creating this Halloween happiness.
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Far too often, folks reach in times like these.
They look to assign the deepest of meanings. They insist on craning for poignancy.
Hell, Larry Baer himself fell into the trap, speaking of the “life lessons” that the 2012 Giants taught us along the way.
Seriously, Larry? Now? Life lessons?
In the immortal words of Bill Murray in “Stripes,” LIGHTEN UP, FRANCIS.
YOU JUST WON THE FRIGGIN’ WORLD SERIES!
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Anyone previously doubting the existence of the oft-referenced “baseball gods” had no choice but to stop doubting as a magical Monday night unfolded on the shores of McCovey Cove.
They had to become full-on converts, so steadfast in their awe of such gods that the only logical response was to craft a sandwich board to wear on Market Street and bray at any and all passers-by: “I BELIEVE!!!”
So, too, did anyone questioning the power of chemistry and the existence of momentum have to rethink said stance.
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