By Josh Hunsucker (@jphunsucker)
I still feel this way.
It's been two weeks since Super Bowl XLVII and I can’t stop feeling like my girlfriend broke-up with me. Let me preface this entire diatribe with the fact that I know it is completely irrational. With that said, I still blame myself.
During the Giants 2012 World Series run, Murph and Mac always talked about “particles”. The mystic, fleeting, and intangible thoughts and feelings that fans have. On some level, the particles swirl together and make some sort of a karmic difference, good or bad. For example, before the NLCS game Barry Zito pitched (sorry for the lack of details, I’m an A’s fan) a woman named Inga (check out comment 63, called during both the NLDS and NLCS) and spoke about a how she envisioned Barry Zito rising to the occasion and how the stars were aligning for him. This is particles.
Fast forward to SB XLVII, I know that we (yes we) got down 28-6, but I can’t help thinking about the fact that some of my decisions heading into the game added up to some particles going against us. First of all, we went to The City for the game. Prior to that, we never left the 209 for a game. I also wore a gold satin jacket for the game for the first time all season. I even rationalized that it was like the team wearing the SB patch. Among the myriad of particles that added up against me though, not watching the game with my kids, which we had done all season, may have been the karmic back-breaker.
When I look back on all of the karmic particles that I spun in the Ravens direction, I feel like Maverick after he gunned Viper and left Hollywood and Wolfman's wing. You never leave your wingman, you should always dance with who brought you, and you never change up routine before the big game. Maverick's immortal words echo in my head every time I think about SB XLVII, “I know better than that. . . . That will never happen again.”
After the game The City felt and looked like someone had died. People wandered the Marina looking like they had just succumbed to the drunken zombie Super Bowl apocalypse. I felt dazed all night. A fight in the bar spilling over into the area I was standing couldn't pull my sullen gaze away from Steve Young begrudging praising the Ravens. I even had a random dude ask me if I needed a hug as I blankly stared at one TV showing highlights and another showing Mexican League baseball.
On Monday, I knew the first week would be bad. I knew I would feel terrible. Losing the Super Bowl is undiscovered territory for Niners fans. What I didn’t know is that this empty feeling would continue to linger for two weeks with no sign of going away. Pitchers and catchers didn’t help. The Warriors having a “great” year hasn't helped. Nothing is working. I feel as lost as Lewis and Clark if they had never found Sacajawea.
I still log onto 49ers.com or go onto the 49ers App like a sullen ex stalking their long lost love on Facebook. I can’t put my 49ers jerseys away for the spring. I keep wearing my Niners shorts to bed hoping to wake-up on Super Sunday with the chance to change my mind about going to The City. But I know its not going to happen. Where do we as Faithful go from here? How do we get through this?
Unbreak My Heart.