Calls to Boycott the 49ers Are Just Plain Wrong

Last fall, I was fit to be tied.

I even advocated in one column that fans think about boycotting the 49ers.

Now I see other fans doing the same thing this year.

I understand their frustration, but they need to take a deep breath.

Anyway, reading that former franchise owner Eddie De Bartolo Jr. gave his nephew, Jed York, the nod, I questioned myself.

After a split-second of deep contemplation, I realized I was a spoiled brat, caught in the glow of glory past.

So I drank the 49ers Gatorade, and my cynicism sort of evaporated, along with my intestinal track.

But I'm okay, because I have government insurance.

I realized that I was intoxicated with past success.

And like that spoiled brat, I wanted victory NOW!

You know, Super Bowls.

That kind of thing.

Sending Bill Parcells into a sissy fit.

Seeing Joe Theisman get his chops busted.

Remember Jim Everett's phantom sack?

The 49ers were feared.

Forget the finesse.

That's an Oakland Raiders conspiracy and, yes, their fan list is being evaluated by Interpol and the Discover How To Prevent Constipation Coalition.

But, I digress.

Yes, those good old days were sure euphoric.

Like an addiction.

You can only savor beating the Bengals in the Super Bowl for so long.

But we did it twice.

The come-down took two decades, instead of one.

Those were the days.

Running the Lambs out of Los Angeles to flyover country where they aren't appreciated—unless they win a Super Bowl.

Which will never, ever happen again, at least in your great-great-great-great grandchildren's lives.

What do you expect from a town where baseball is king?

Alas, I digress yet again!

Anyway, I expect to have fun this year; that's what I expect.

Win, lose or draw.

No expectations.

Jed's just starting out.

So is Singletary.

I remember when Eddie D. brought us out of the oblivion of losing seasons.

Let's hope his Midas touch has rubbed off on Jed.

After all, the players loved Eddie and loved playing hard for him.

The fans loved him, and many still do.

He loved us back.

Then it ended.

A disorienting and bitter stupor replaced the clarity of winning with losing.

A bunch of bad years. Poor decisions.

Some of us became angry fans.

Who can blame us?

The key is, does it serve any purpose?

It's just football.

Plus, Eddie gave Jed the nod, and that did it for me.

So I did an Eddie-nod.

(If you e-mail me, I can send you the directions, but you have to be Italian, like Eddie and me.)

So now Jed has a Glenny-nod.

I'm sure that will thrill him.

Well, he won't even know.

I think I'm still on his dart board. My name doesn't matter. It's my head he's aiming for.

So, as I moved this year from the hillbilly hills of Humboldt County to the Bay Area where I was born, I did something unusual.

Well, my wife allowed me to do it.

She unlocked the safe where she has my wallet, and actually allowed me to fork over some money.

That's unusual in my house, where I have to petition Congress to go to a 7-11 for a medium Slurpee.

It's not bad, though, except for the hazardous hitch-hiking.

Now I'm a season ticket-holder, and me and my bride will attend home games.

Now is the time to really pull in like the 49ers faithful did from the mid-1970s until the season of "The Catch."

I've never been a fair-weather fan.

Been a mad fan.

An over-excited fan.

A loyal fan.

During the down years in the 1970s and this decade, I went game-by-game.

Each one is the Super Bowl.

I pretend all opponents are Dallas or the Rams.

My suggestion to 49ers fans is to not give up, and to pray that the Santa Clara stadium goes through.

Because if there is one thing we've learned in this world economy, it is that the only thing for sure is that nothing is for sure.

A franchise with a stadium more fitting for a county dump might just decide local support isn't worthy if a boycott were started, and if it had success.

So join the team.

Go 'Niners!