Daisy Does the 49ers: Green Bay Tops SF

What it comes down to is this: The 49ers are incapable of playing four quarters of football. Our defense, which at the beginning of the season made me believe there was a God after all, just isn’t showing up. We needed a defensive stop in the fourth quarter, but we didn’t get it and the Packers ran down the last six minutes on the clock for the win. (Side note: a team actually doing something “for the win” is the only time that phrase is ever acceptable. The internet may tell you otherwise, but the internet is wrong.)

But it’s not just our defense’s fault, No Sir-ee Bob! (Apparently, for the previous sentence, the role of Daisy was played by a geriatric?) Our offensive play calling is circus-esque and our offensive line makes me want to kick unicorns in the face. Even better: whenever our special teams are on the field, all I pray for is that we manage to hold onto the ball. We just aren’t a playoff team, and yes, it feels ridiculous to even make such a statement considering we lost five out of last six games, but there are still people who believe we have a chance.

But let me break it down for you: The only way the 49ers have a chance to make it to the playoffs is if somehow the minor concussion Kurt Warner sustained in yesterday’s game against the Rams ends up knocking him out for the rest of the season. He’s claiming he’ll be “just fine” for next week, but a girl can dream… Because the only QB I hate more than Brett Favre is, you got it, Kurt Warner. (Don’t even get me started on his wife.)

And yes, the fact that it is almost impossible for us to make the playoffs kills me. But what kills me even more is losing to Green Bay. I hate Green Bay. I hated them when Brett Favre with his cheesy “good ol’ boy” personality was their QB (though I did kind of respect the Vicodin addiction). And I hate the fact that the 49ers have lost our last eight games against them.

And I really hate the pudgy Packers’ fan from the bar yesterday with a voice that could shatter glass and a dedication to shoveling food into her mouth second only to when Kimberly Drummond scarfed down an entire sheet cake in the infamous “Different Strokes” bulimia episode.

What was most amazing about her constant and unwavering intake of food was the fact that she simultaneously never stopped talking. Whether she was summarizing her drink consumption: “First, I had a Bloody Mary. Then a mimosa. Then another Bloody Mary. Then a mimosa. And now I’m having a Miller Lite!” talking about her amazing fashion sense: “What I really need are some green Packers converse and an Aaron Rodgers jersey,” or drawing maps of Wisconsin in the air: “See, right here is Sheboygan.” (Points to air) “And this is Appleton…” (Points to another spot in the air) “And then this is Green Bay!” (Pokes excitedly at yet another random spot in the air), this very reason chubby-chasers exist was committed to filling every second of the game with her grating one-way conversation and hideous squeal of a laugh.

There was one redeeming moment though…

After yet another Packer touchdown and the ensuing cliché Green Bay celebration, she turned to her friends and said, “That’s called The Lambeau Leap. It’s all about adulation. They grab you, hit you on the head, and spill beer all over you.”

Which is exactly what I then did to her. I mean, she’s the one who called it adulation. Her words. Not mine.

Next Week: SAN FRANCISCO over Jacksonville.