With their 20-6 win against the Lions yesterday, the 49ers have a shot at their best record since 2002. All they have to do is beat the pathetic 1-14 Rams next Sunday for an 8-8 season. (Is an 8-8 season considered a winning season or just avoiding a losing season? These are the tough questions that wake me up at 3 a.m.)
But despite their win yesterday, I woke up this morning with a rather blasé attitude about the whole thing. Perhaps it’s because, much like the 49er team that showed up yesterday, I couldn’t muster the energy to actually care about the outcome of the game. After giving them every ounce of passion I possessed for the last four months, I just didn’t have anything left to give. (And yes, The Boy is super stoked that I spent all of my fervor and zeal this autumn on the Niners; it makes for quite an exciting Sunday night: Me on the couch pouting, him deciding he’d be better off at home watching “Dexter” with his roommate because it’s going to be a flannel pajama kind of night. Again.)
I have to say though that there was something rather pleasant about spending my Sunday watching a football game whose outcome really meant nothing. For once, I was able to sit back, sip my beer and just enjoy the sunshine and company. When I had to pee at the beginning of the 2nd quarter, I went to the bathroom instead of holding it in for another 45 minutes because, for once, I knew that nothing was going to happen that I couldn’t stand to miss. And I was right. The 49ers played horribly in the first half. They looked like they had no desire to even be on the field. They managed to pull out the win, but only because they capitalized on Detroit’s sloppy play (6 turnovers) and a few good drives of their own in the second half. (Although can someone please explain to me why Alex Smith didn’t run that first TD in and instead took the chance of throwing it to Vernon Davis when he was literally on the line of scrimmage?)
