sums it up well
Here it is September and the season is essentially finished. Oh, sure, the percentages still give the Lions a chance. But math doesn?t understand the spirits.
Or the New England Patriots, who will be in Detroit Sunday night to extinguish whatever flicker of optimism you?ve got left.
Then what?
A new coach? A new general manager? A new roster?
None of it matters.
Think about it. Patricia hasn?t forgotten what he learned in New England. Jim Caldwell won a Super Bowl before he got here. Jim Schwartz led a good defense in Tennessee.
You can quibble with their resumes. You can argue that the Fords don?t know how to hire a coach. But, remember, these coaches arrive in our city because they?ve had success.
Then they get here. Slip into the blue and silver. Slip on the headset. Take their spot on the sideline. Stare into the void.
Wide-eyed and dumbfounded.
Heart hopeful. Heart crushed.
It happened again Sunday afternoon, not far from the Pacific Ocean, three time zones away, as another coach fell into a cruel and never-ending space-time continuum.
What now?
It?s time to bow down and apologize. Burn some sage and double-tip the bartender. Shepard the meek across the street and call mom. Every Sunday. And listen. And if you can't call mom, call your second mom, or your third mom, or someone, somewhere who once sacrificed for you.
Do that and next time, just maybe, the referee doesn?t see a holding call as Walker rips down the sideline, as you jump off your couch, as you forget, for a moment, you?re a Lions? fan, your team pulsating on the sideline, all those Niner fans growing quiet.
Then the flag comes out. And everything returns to normal.
San Francisco fans get to exhale.
You get to shake your head, because deep down you knew it was inevitable all along.
Not the flag, but the ending, of another season before it truly got started.
Again.
https://www.freep.com/story/sports/...t-lions-san-francisco-49-ers-loss/1328766002/