Free Friday: 49ers throttle on and off against Seahawks, Coping with Mets playoff fandom

7.6 yards per play to 4.8 yards per play at halftime, and that somehow undersells how bad the Seahawks were because there were four three-and-outs. The game felt over at 16-3. The 49ers scored another touchdown to make is 23-3. It felt over.

Then the 49ers, embracing their inner Snorlax, immediately fell asleep. Laviska Shenault took a kickoff back for a touchdown. Seattle climbed to within 23-17. Geno Smith, when he had time, was dealing.

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The 49ers punted at the beginning of the fourth quarter, the ball went off Seahawks returner Dee Williams’ hands. The 49ers challenged, and the broadcast showed us a view that clearly showed the ball being touched. But the challenge was upheld!

They would later reveal on the broadcast that the NFL did not have the angles that Amazon did, which, uh, seems problematic!

After that, the 49ers achieved some intense ball-don’t-lie energy and put the game away for all real intents and purposes with a Purdy touchdown to George Kittle after picking off Geno Smith. The 49ers tried their best to blow this huge lead, as they have done time and time again while throwing deep and playing variance ball, but they simply weren’t up to the task.

By the way, Purdy made some pretty sick throws in this game. His first touchdown to Kittle, in particular:

I was told this was an arm strengthless lad, and yet…

It’s a huge win for the 49ers, one that puts them back into first place and gives them a step up in the tiebreaker with Seattle. As for the Seahawks, who I was really high on coming into the year, let me say I did not anticipate watching Stone Forsythe getting his butt kicked on every passing play for five weeks when I believed that. The 49ers are a tough matchup for anyone, and it’s hard to run on them. But the Seahawks are feeling the effects of defensive injuries and the special teams touchdown made this game feel closer than it actually was.

Rivers writes about fandom

While trying to launch a football newsletter, I have come upon a great joy: The once-a-decade Mets playoff run that captivates me.

Despite being born and raised in Houston, I was dealt exactly one weird fandom when my mother, an upstate New Yorker, had me attend my first baseball game at Shea Stadium. And when I say fan, I mean this year I legitimately watched 100-plus regular season games. It has been especially weird the last 10 years as the Astros win time after time and people congratulate me on their success and/or get mad at me about their alleged cheating.

When I was growing up, it was actually fairly even. The Mets had 1999 and 2000, narrowly missing the playoffs in 1998. The Astros were a better team, but always managed to crash out in the division series. And since that moment, the Mets go on one promising tear for one season every 10 years or so (2006, 2015, now this year), and my hopes are raised and then dashed. I’m very happy for my Astros fans, but let me say: The Mets won a World Series when I was in diapers. The Rockets won back-to-back titles when I was barely old enough to appreciate that it happened. It has been a long 30 years for yours truly. I don’t truly know what it’s like to celebrate being the last team standing.

The famous Jon Bois Tweet about playoff hockey is “why watch overtime playoff hockey when you can simply snort cocaine and ride a motorcycle out of a helicopter,” and while baseball has a way of slowing everything down, being a Mets fan the last 10 days has been like snorting cocaine on a long, turbulent flight across the Pacific. They needed to win a game to even make the playoffs, they had two outs left against the Brewers before they were done, they were getting one-hit by Zach Wheeler, and so on. (My condolences to Phillies fans, the 2006 Mets have conditioned me to feel a little shame when my plucky lil 80-win team knocks off a “better” one in a short series.)

And now I’m on this ride and in theory, you’re freerolling it. Because hey, next year there’s a ton of payroll coming off the books, and the Mets of late have shown that they’ll spend heavily under Steve Cohen. But here’s what I’m really thinking: No future is ever really guaranteed. The only way to make sure you have something to show for all the work you’ve done is to do it right this moment. And that creates a lot of mental pressure. It’s a fucking blast, to be clear. I will remember these last 10 days excitedly no matter what happens. But will I remember them in a melancholy “almost” way? Or…?

MLB’s playoff system has only gotten more chaotic since I became a fan. It feels largely a factor of luck how far you go. In 2015, the Mets were the hottest thing on the planet when they carved through the Cubs, but the Royals were hotter and more clutch. All I can do is hope the ride continues, knowing it is almost even beyond skill. Half of the most important postseason home runs I can remember in Mets history have been hit over the past 10 days by their best players, but half of them were also hit by Daniel Murphy in 2015. It is literally an entire playoffs made up of the Hot Hand Theory.

Part of me is terrified to even call attention to this, the superstitious part of me that understands it can all fall apart as quickly as Edwin Diaz’s control can. The part of me that gets nervous every time Jose Quintana starts because he’s basically a junkballer at this point. But I just have to tell myself that I don’t control any of this, because I don’t.

When Francisco Lindor hit his grand slam on Wednesday, I screamed, I jumped out of my chair, I hooted and hollered. My son, eating dinner, cried because he was stressed out by how excited I was. Part of me also has to note that the last time the Mets won the World Series, I was one year old. And my son? He’s currently one year old.

Man, Free: A Football Newsletter is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.