Did You See THAT, Grandma Bean?

On January 10, 1982, when Joe Montana connected to Dwight Clark for The Catch, I was three years old. There's a chance (I'll have to ask Mom) that I was "watching" the game with her, and Grandma and Grandpa Bean, who were devoted fans of the San Francisco teams--the 49ers for football and the Giants for baseball.

As I grew up and understood a little better, I came to love the 49ers as much as my grandparents and Mom did, and I can remember some fantastic moments played out by great athletes: Joe Montana, Jerry Rice, Ronnie Lott, Roger Craig...so many. I knew the starting players of the offense and defense--I still have great respect for guys like Harris Barton and Tom Rathman. I loved George Siefert's stern demeanor, and I watched my share of great 49er moments in the 80s, and into the 90s. (Also, for the record: I never referred to the stadium as anything but Candlestick Park or "The Stick." Because...no. Just no.)

I was, of course, a huge fan of Steve Young and the guys who took the team into the 90s. Jerry Rice continued to be a star (greatest wide receiver ever? You'll never convince me otherwise!), and new guys like Terrell Owens came in and kept the tradition of excellent offense alive.

I remember very well The Catch II from 1998, when Steve Young connected to Terrell Owens with eight--EIGHT!!--seconds left in a playoff game against the Green Bay Packers. Mom had left the room. We both figured the Packers had it, but I stayed in the living room, determined to support my guys 'til the bitter end. The crazed screaming that issued from my mouth brought Mom running back in time to see the replays, and I remember hugging her and doing a victory jig around the living room.

By 1998, both Grandma and Grandpa Bean were gone--Grandpa for seven years and Grandma for four. It was just Mom and I celebrating a fantastic sports moment. By this time, I was in college, and my own football viewing was way down. Turns out studying, being a music major and having a social life takes away from Sunday afternoon NFL viewing. It wasn't that I didn't care about the 49ers anymore, it was just that I had other things going on.

Fast forward fourteen years (how time flies!) and I haven't paid a tremendous amount of attention to football or the 49ers over the years. As my heroes retired and my favorite team floundered, I paid some attention...but I also allowed my new found interest in NASCAR (now, amazingly, going on eleven years) to take over my Sunday afternoons. Shouts of "GO JUNIOR!!!" replaced my excited shouts of "DE-FENSE! DE-FENSE!" I still considered myself a "49er fan," and would let anyone know that I had some serious fan credentials--I watched all of those five Super Bowls, thankyouverymuch (even if I don't necessarily remember one or two!). But really, I was a fan in name only for a long time.

I vaguely noticed this season that the 49ers seemed to be doing well, but again, I didn't pay a lot of attention. I had NASCAR, and my own running, and time with friends and family. You know, other stuff.

Then this morning, I noticed the 49ers were in the playoffs, and today's game would pit them against the Saints. Feeling a bit bored and listless this weekend (after last weekend's marvelous adventure with Summer, now I've got pretty much nothing going on), I decided to tune into the game.

Well, WOW.

It was a great game, though there were some sloppy defensive moments from the 49ers that allowed the Saints to first, catch up and second, take the lead. Then, the Saints pulled ahead in a stunning play with two minutes left, and the hearts of San Francisco's fans bled red and gold all over the place as they started breaking.

Here's the thing, though. One doesn't grow up a 49er fan without having a little bit of faith in sports miracles. I was spoon-fed replays of The Catch and I have watched this team come from behind in the face of crazy odds more than once. I never turn away from a 49er game until the last second has ticked off that play clock.

I believe...I think!! Yes, I believe! Maybe. Oh, hell. GO NINERS!!

My faith in the team may seem a little misguided--after all, this is a team of guys I know nothing about. Long retired are the incredible athletes I cheered for in my youth, and I was frantically learning names as I watched today's game. The coach is new this year? I didn't know that. But like any long-time fan of the San Francisco 49ers, I crossed my fingers, and I willed them to pull that miracle play out of their hats.

And what do you know...with the Saints ahead by three and only nine seconds left on the clock, Alex Smith threw a pass, and Vernon Davis caught it...and landed in the end zone. People are already calling it The Catch III or The Catch 3.0.

Thirty-three years old, and I can still scream like an eleven-year-old. And believe me, I did.

What a game. I can't wait to see what happens next week.