Stress on Kaepernick doesn't compare to pressure put on other 49ers Super Bowl quarterbacks
By the end of this week in New Orleans, when media access
and clown questions are finally cut off, 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick
will have addressed just about every hot
topic. From his unique talent in Turlock to his tattoos. From the pistol
formation in Reno to the temptations of Bourbon Street. From his biological
parents to Beyonce’s lip synching.
Whether Kaepernick cares to admit it, there is pressure
surrounding him like beads on the necks of young voluptuous women in the French
Quarter. He has won big game after big game in his brief 10-game stewardship in
San Francisco and now he faces THE BIGGEST GAME OF THEM ALL!
Yet, the stress on Kaepernick to win the Super Bowl is
minuscule compared to a couple of his predecessors. I remember them well. I was
there with a pressure gauge.
Steve Young had the pressure of getting a King Kong-XXXL
sized primate off his back in Miami to win Super Bowl XXIX.
Joe Montana had the pressure of getting the press off his
back, a circumstance so encumbrance that Joe Cool brought down crying in a New
Orleans hotel bathroom on the eve of Super Bowl XXIV.
The only pressure the seemingly unflappable Kaepernick is
feeling right now is on his very own lips pressing against his biceps.
The last time the 49ers played a Super Bowl in New Orleans,
in 1990, it was the media equivalent of Katrina in a pre-TMZ world. First,
Montana’s second wife, Cass, sold her juicy story to the National Enquirer,
detailing less than flattering details of their three-year marriage, which
ended in 1984. She portrayed Montana as unfaithful, a coward and, well,
basically what Taylor Swift apparently thinks of any and all of her
ex-boyfriends.
Then the Baltimore
Sun ran a story about Montana’s high school football coach who claimed that
most everyone in Montana’s Pennsylvania hometown of Monongahela “hated him.”
Sort of how most of us feel about the Kardashians.
Then, on the Thursday before the Super Bowl, Montana was
grilled in a half-hour Rocky Balboa-like press session regarding a television
report out of Washington, D.C. hours earlier that said blacks were being
targeted more than whites in the NFL drug testing program. The report claimed
three “unnamed white quarterbacks” had tested for drugs in the past 10 years.
Without even being named, Montana was being implicated like
Al Quada. For years, he had repeatedly denied drug use and, thinking that was
all in the past, it reared its ugly head again like Lindsay Lohan on the police
blotter. Think of it this now as a media-frenzied fire alarm. Calling Dr. Drew.
Calling Dr. Phil. Calling Nancy Grace.
In this day and age Montana would have had no choice but to
go on Oprah to be forgiven.
Montana reached a breaking point. Or breakdown point.
Accompanied by a 49ers public relations official, Montana ducked into a
restroom before the press conference and wept, lamenting why he had to once
again offer denials about accusations and rumors from a decade ago.
We, the assembled hand grenade drinking and tossing media
horde in the Big Easy, wondered if the circus surrounding Montana in New
Orleans would crush him and his inflamed right elbow.
Could Kaepernick handle such a hurricane of negative
publicity on the eve of the Super Bowl? Montana sure did.
Though his former coach Bill Walsh wrote a guest newspaper
column predicting an easy victory and Terry Bradshaw, a John Elway-hater,
offered an outlandish pre-game prediction of a 55-3, Montana faced this blitz
of adversity and met every challenge with a completion.
Montana proceeded to throw a Super Bowl record five touchdown
passes in a 55-10 win.
Young forever lived
in Montana’s shadow, like anyone following John Wooden at UCLA. Young could not
escape it, even after a victory lap around Candlestick Park following the
49ers’ NFC championship game win over their nemesis, the Dallas Cowboys.
Montana was batting 4-for-4 in Super Bowls and Young hadn’t even stepped to the
plate.
So when Young arrived in Miami, his resume was stacked next
to Montana and the bottom line on Young’s was “Never Could Win The Big One.” As
the week wore on, Young heard more references about “Joe” than Penn State.
Meanwhile, as the pressure was rising so was the betting
line in Las Vegas. It opened at 19, grew to 21 and settled at 18 that the 49ers
would beat the San Diego Chargers. Tensions mounted. The 49ers were built with
Eddie Bartelolo’s money and Carmen Policy’s savvy to win this Super Bowl or
else. Jerry Rice confronted hired gun Deion Sanders and accused him of not
being serious enough during Super Bowl week. George Seifert was coaching for his
job, as Policy crafted a plan to eventually replace him with offensive
coordinator Mike Shanahan.
Could Kaepernick handle such massive meteoric expectations,
distractions and possible implications on the eve of the Super Bowl? Young sure
did.
At the age of 33 and with his best -- and it turns out last – chance to win the biggest game of all,
Young proceeded to top Montana’s Super Bowl record, throwing six touchdown
passes in a 46-26 victory.
As the final seconds
counted down, 49ers linebacker Gary Plummer feinted pulling an invisible
proverbial monkey off Young’s back at Young’s request and he gleefully reacted
as if the weight of the world had been lifted.
Later, when Young accepted the Vince Lombardi Trophy, he put
such a bear hug on it that it was as if he was a kid finally getting the
Christmas gift he didn’t get on Christmas morning … on the Fourth of July.
Since that glorious day, the 49ers have started 15 different
quarterbacks and Kaepernick is the first one to lead them to the Super Bowl.
Pressure? The
pressure Kaepernick is feeling for Super Bowl XLVII doesn’t compare to Montana
and Young in their last Super Bowls. But the results will be similar.
49ers 31, Ravens 14. Apply lips to biceps.