I remember this combination of dread and excitement. I remember feeling it every morning of every 49ers playoff game in January 1995, back when I eschewed the Bills to make lovey-dovey eyes every time Steve Young appeared on the television screen or sports section. (I had just turned 13 – ripe age for a celebrity mega crush!) I wanted Steve Young and the 49ers to win the Super Bowl so badly that they, and not my then sickly two month old little brother, was what I prayed for when my CCD instructor made us repeat the Apostles Creed like the Rosary was made of it. (There’s a reason it’s not.) Continue reading