49ers Hate Day

Took this photo at Fisherman's Wharf when I visited over the summer. No idea what they think "Cajun Shrimp Creole" is. Didn't stop to find out.



Apparently they also seem to think boudin is some sort of bread.



San Francisco. It's a nice place to visit but really people shouldn't live there.

Also please see Bob Marshall's column in today's T-P

It was 1987 and the Saints had still not experienced a winning season in 20 years of trying, but that was about the change. Jim Mora's second team shocked the league and ignited bag burnings across The Big Easy by not only having a winning season, but going 12-3 and making the playoffs.

It was the start of a six-year run that made the Saints regularly respected for the first time. Mora's formula was beautifully simple.

He had a stifling "Dome Patrol" defense that could keep teams out of his red zone, and he had an all-time great kicker in Morten Andersen who was money from 40 yards.

So he put together a "no mistake" offense: A quarterback to throw after a strong running game was established.

No risk, no failure. Let the other guys make mistakes.

In any other division except the NFC West, it would have led to a string of championships during that era. But fate was not yet ready to smile on the Saints, because one of the other teams in that group was the San Francisco 49ers. They had a coach named Bill Walsh, then George Seifert. Quarterbacks named Joe Montana and Steve Young. Receivers named Jerry Rice and John Taylor.

They tortured Saints fans the way the Yankees tortured Red Sox faithful; they were always just a little better, especially late. In his winning seasons from 1987-1992, Mora would go 3-9 against the 49ers, never sweeping them. Even when the Saints compiled a 12-4 season in 1992 and 12-3 in 1987, they still finished behind the offense-rich 49ers.

Fuck the 49ers, fuck their "Cajun Shrimp Creole" and fuck their stupid bread. Today is a day to collect very old debts.