By Daisy Barringer

Dear San Francisco 49ers Players, Coaches, Owners and Front Office Personnel,

Yesterday morning, I woke up excited, hopeful and a believer. I dressed for a cold, rainy day at Candlestick, complete with a Niners' hoodie, Indian headdress and red and gold war paint on my face. I tucked my Bud Light tallboys into my handbag and rode the 77x to a stadium full of smiling faces, extravagant tailgates and tens of thousands of Niners Faithful who thought that Troy Smith would lead the (3-6) 49ers to a victory over the (6-3) Buccaneers.

But instead of a win, which would have put us one game back in the NFC West, a division that is an embarrassment to the sport of football, you gave us our first shutout at home since October of 1977. Just to give you a little perspective of how long ago that was--aka: how long the 49ers avoided not scoring one single point in a home game--in October of 1977, I was a 5-month-old baby living in Greensboro, North Carolina. My mother was four years younger than I am now. Pier 39 opened in San Francisco. John Mayer was born. Bing Crosby died. The last natural case of smallpox was discovered. And the San Francisco 49ers were shut out at Candlestick by the Atlanta Falcons (7-0).