When the 49ers move, some of us will die a little more

I was born into a Bears family.  My father and his three brothers were cheering on the only team worth a spit in the NFL before I was even a glimmer.  But my dad moved from Chicago to Washington, DC: my place of birth, a Redskins fan by default.  And no matter how many games we watched or how many people pushed me towards the yellow & red I was not happy.  Perhaps it was the politically incorrect characture of the Native American mascot or because they had no style. It became evident that I was born a 49er and I will die a 49er.  I knew one day I would move to San Francisco and complete my journey, but back in the 80's I wore my gold 9ers jacket with pride.  When I moved to Ohio, I laughed at those ridicules Browns fans, and loved there instant hatred of the free flying gold and red, timeless winners.  I wore number 80 in football.  Those Bengels were even more fun to cheer against.  Rice, Montana, Young, Taylor, Lott, and the list goes on, and on.  When I look back on my childhood I remember my family, and I remember Joe Montana passing to Jerry Rice, perfection in motion, the 49ers.  And now they may move away.  Well it may only be a few miles, but as each recent season seems to looks bleaker it seems that the once late great San Francisco 49ers will never be the same.  It feels like a different location and a different team...