A fool and his football team
A thundering surprise to absolutely no one, 49ers owner John York today fired head coach Dennis Erickson and general manager Terry Donahue.
Hey, Dr. York: Want to get a good look at the guy in your front office you really ought to fire? Step into the executive washroom — he's staring at you from the other side of the sink.
Not that Erickson, whose game strategies were so conservative the Heritage Foundation endorsed his playbook, or Donahue, a genial but thoroughly incompetent man in so far over his head as an NFL GM that the latest reprint of The Peter Principle has his photo on the flyleaf, were any great shakes, but Vince Lombardi, Bill Walsh, and Tom Landry combined couldn't engineer a winning team with the parsimonious Dr. York clenching the pursestrings like a junkie gripping a nickel bag. The Texas State Armadillos with Scott Bakula at quarterback, Sinbad on the O-line, and Kathy Ireland kicking field goals would stand a better chance than the 49ers' current roster of non-talent cobbled together out of bargain-basement extras from North Dallas Forty.
When you consider that this is a franchise that won five Super Bowls in its glory years, but has had only two .500-plus seasons since Dr. York and his wife Denise, the sister of ousted former owner Eddie DeBartolo, seized the joystick in 1999, it's a pitiful situation. And it won't get any better until York — who I'm convinced learned everything he knows about the game from that old Andy Griffith comic monologue, "What It Was, Was Football" — hires a strong leadership team with decades of NFL experience (both Erickson and Donahue made their meager reputations in college, not pro, ball), gives them ample financial wherewithal to build a functional roster, and then takes an extended vacation in Morocco for the next dozen years or so.
Congratulations on the 2-14 season, Dr. York. Your once-vaunted football team is the laughingstock of the NFL. Scapegoat whomever you wish and throw the bums out, but in reality, you have no one to blame but yourself.
Hey, Dr. York: Want to get a good look at the guy in your front office you really ought to fire? Step into the executive washroom — he's staring at you from the other side of the sink.
Not that Erickson, whose game strategies were so conservative the Heritage Foundation endorsed his playbook, or Donahue, a genial but thoroughly incompetent man in so far over his head as an NFL GM that the latest reprint of The Peter Principle has his photo on the flyleaf, were any great shakes, but Vince Lombardi, Bill Walsh, and Tom Landry combined couldn't engineer a winning team with the parsimonious Dr. York clenching the pursestrings like a junkie gripping a nickel bag. The Texas State Armadillos with Scott Bakula at quarterback, Sinbad on the O-line, and Kathy Ireland kicking field goals would stand a better chance than the 49ers' current roster of non-talent cobbled together out of bargain-basement extras from North Dallas Forty.
When you consider that this is a franchise that won five Super Bowls in its glory years, but has had only two .500-plus seasons since Dr. York and his wife Denise, the sister of ousted former owner Eddie DeBartolo, seized the joystick in 1999, it's a pitiful situation. And it won't get any better until York — who I'm convinced learned everything he knows about the game from that old Andy Griffith comic monologue, "What It Was, Was Football" — hires a strong leadership team with decades of NFL experience (both Erickson and Donahue made their meager reputations in college, not pro, ball), gives them ample financial wherewithal to build a functional roster, and then takes an extended vacation in Morocco for the next dozen years or so.
Congratulations on the 2-14 season, Dr. York. Your once-vaunted football team is the laughingstock of the NFL. Scapegoat whomever you wish and throw the bums out, but in reality, you have no one to blame but yourself.
SwanShadow was randomly pounding the keyboard at 11:31 PM
0 insisted on sticking two cents in:
Post a Comment
<< Home