The Memory of Titanic Legends Lingers

As training camp approaches, I am buoyed by optimism.

Despite San Francisco's implosion for most of this decade, I still have a euphoric feeling when I smell freshly mowed grass and temperatures in the 70s and 80s.

It's beginning to feel like football weather.

Hope says that a one-time dynasty could begin to restore itself.

Yeah, there are those nagging little questions that keep floating to the surface as I try to hedge my optimism by the pragmatic reality of the current 49ers.

Disaster could await us in 2009-2010.

Then again, perhaps this could be the first step in a turnaround.

As I ponder the schedule, I long for the Eddie De Bartolo Jr.—and Bill Walsh-led dynasty—the likes of which the NFL has not seen since the merger.

I recall all the names—too many to list here—from that long-ago 49ers Golden Age in which titanic NFL legends were born and refined.

Their memories still linger.

My deep reflection of glorious dynastic victories was rudely interrupted by an enemy message notice brought by Digsby, alerting me to an e-mail sent by the loathsome New York Giants.

God must have a sense of humor, huh?

How did I get on a New York Giants mailing list? Was this somebody's idea of a sick joke?

As I was taking my name off New York's e-mail list, I chuckled as I thought of the second-greatest comeback in NFL playoff history that the Giants lost, 39-38, in the NFC wild-card game at Candlestick.

Having defeated New York, 16-13, earlier in 2002, I knew the Giants would come in and try to bury the Niners.

And that's precisely what happened.

A lackadaisical San Francisco team seemed to be casting a shadow on the waning glow of a once-great dynasty.

When the 49ers fell behind 38-14, my stomach was starting to eat itself.

Then something changed.

The intensity that characterized past teams that were a part of the Golden Age was suddenly tapped into by the Jeff Garcia-led 49ers.

New York's arrogant, immature antics combined with unsportsmanlike conduct must have put a chip on the home team's collective shoulder.

Michael Strahan started talking trash and pointed to the scoreboard which showed a lopsided score after Terrell Owens celebrated a touchdown.

The message? Time was running out, New York was going to win just for being the sainted Giants, so stop celebrating, fool!

Earlier in the game, I'm sure Jeremy Shockey's taunting of fans and throwing ice on some helped deepen that chip.

Tiki Barber's premature strutting probably didn't help either.

Whatever it was, the 49ers mounted a ferocious comeback.

Some New York players from that team continue to sound like wimps when they make inane excuses.

They claim they were ripped off by a bad call, let down by special teams and could have won had Shockey caught what should have been a touchdown.

Should have, would have.

Grow up!

Only pampered New York Giants would embarrass that proud franchise by continuing to make such puerile claims.

That's why the memory of knocking their pompous butts out of the playoffs will remain therapeutic the rest of my life.