Wouldn’t it be beyond hilarious if Jed York flew back to Santa Clara, drove home, had a couple of drinks and decided, “You know, I really don’t have a better idea on this coach thing, and I don’t think I can get trade value back for that pain in the ass. Screw it. I’ll keep him.”
Yes, we all know it won’t happen. Owners don’t back down from a position firmly held, because in the immortal words of Jack Woltz before he ended up with the horse’s head in his bed in The Godfather, “A man in my position can’t be made to look ridiculous.”
So yeah, Jim Harbaiugh will be someone else’s PITA – the Raiders, the Jets, the Giants, the Bears, the Cowboys, somebody’s. Every owner who needs a coach thinks he can tame the wild mustang, and as it usually happens with tempestuous players, it ends badly.
But while it’s good, it’s very good. And wouldn’t it be a total screech if York got nostalgic right at the moment when you’d expect him to get administrative, and decide Harbaugh will serve out his sentence . . . er, complete his contract . . . er, fix what he helped break.
[MAIOCCO: Harbaugh looks forward to talking with York, Baalke]
You know, the offense. The horse whisperer (Harbaugh) who went all in with the wild colt (Colin Kaepernick) now has an offense that was at best workmanlike when everyone was healthy and is now nearly unwatchable. In fact, that offensive shortcoming will probably be the cover story the team tries to trot out when he does get cranked.
But it would still be better for all of us if York got a case of seller’s remorse. If he looked out from behind his gigantic desk with a list of messages from fellow owners wanting to ask about Harbaugh. If he said to himself, “I know why I don’t want him, but why do all these other guys want him so badly? And if they want him so badly, why can’t I get any of them to pay me to let him go?”
Because, and let’s be honest here, this little personality tableau ran its course a little too quickly. There are still games to play, of course, and frankly, Jim Harbaugh coaching games that don’t matter really sits poorly. You get the half-hearted Harbaugh, no matter how hard he tries to spin the bromides and light the old lamps. This isn’t the Harbaugh we were raised on – obstreperous, twenty-five years out of date, equal parts combative and conciliatory, always a little bit out of phase. The standard definition picture on the high-definition TV.
So yeah, we’re getting cheated here. No high drama, no ion-charged speeches no upraised middle fingers at 25 paces. Jed and Paraag and Trent and Jim and all their other various people will have plenty of time to fake amicability and a relatively peaceful exit strategy that will be a complete and utter lie – as we will all learn when they all start leaking to their favorite national typist or throat how The Other Guy was an utter and complete prat who didn’t know his place and was a deceiver and mountebank and ill-bred fraud.
And it will still stink on thick ice, because it will still end before it should have. The 49ers should have rallied and back-doored their way into the playoffs, and won a couple of games, and re-raised the stakes for everyone in a glorious Viking funeral of disingenuousness and nonsense. We deserved the best theatre this parting could offer, and a deep run in the playoffs would have smeared bacon grease on all the burning logs and lit the sky for hundreds of miles.
So here’s why, against the run of play in so many ways, we still hope York has a change of heart, out of fear of the unknown, fear of being pilloried like his father was, fear that he is making a mistake even though every capillary in his system, says he isn’t.
And here’s hoping Harbaugh sets his jaw and says, “Nope, you’re going to have to fire me, because I’m not leaving a single dime on your mahogany conference room table, you little twerp.”
Let’s get the final year we were all promised, because it’s the holiday season, and there is no better way to put the “diss” in “dysfunction.” Everyone else’s families have to deal with it, so why not the 49er family?
It’ll be the only good thing to come out of this skeevy season, that’s for damned sure. And besides, who wouldn’t want everyone else to be completely and utterly wrong? If that’s not totally ho-ho-ho, then I don’t know my hos.
Pun completely intended.
