by Daisy Barringer

It was only a few short weeks ago that, in a moment of complete naivety and optimism, I declared (using ALL CAPS to boot) the Niners were going to the playoffs. First of all, let me be clear that neither "naive" nor “optimistic” are words that are rarely used to describe me; I blame my bizarre moment of positivity and hope based solely on the power the 49ers have over me. See, they turn me into a passionate, emotion-filled, fiercely loyal version of myself. They make me believe, even when I know better. They make me forgive, even when I’m known for holding grudges. They make me bi-polar, even when… well, okay, fine…. There is a slight chance I actually should be on some kind of medication other than the self-prescribed white wine/vodka love affair I’ve got going on.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is that being a Niner’s fan (or any sports fan, I suppose) is like being in the world’s longest abusive relationship.

“We're going to win the division, I promise you.” “I want winners.” “We want to be one of the best teams in the NFL.” -Mike Singletary.

And the thing is, you believe him. Because you have to. And you want to. Because if you don’t believe, how do you drag yourself out of bed on Sunday, put on your red and gold, and go cheer for your team with everything you’ve got? How do you rationalize the hours spent reading analysis and commentary? How do you explain the season tickets, and the refusal to travel during football season, and the fact that your entire week is planned around Game Day? How do you explain the power they have over your mood and your entire existence?