All the way back
January 06, 2003
Brian Murphy, Chronicle Staff Writer
It can be argued that this 49ers kingdom has not seen anything like it, not seen anything like the melee of emotion and improbability that played out at Candlestick Park on a fine winter Sunday afternoon and early evening.
It has seen a lot of things, this kingdom. It has seen Joe and Jerry and Steve and the Genius, and yes, this was only an NFC wild-card playoff game. It was not the Super Bowl, but it was something to behold.
Instead, this was 49ers 39, New York Giants 38, in the second-greatest postseason comeback in the history of the NFL.
It was the 49ers, down by 24 points with just more than 19 minutes left in their postseason life, ready to pack up a wholly unsatisfying and disturbing season, and to sink into the mire of discord that marks 49ers seasons that do not end in glory.
Instead, this was Jeff Garcia, the quarterback, and Terrell Owens, the receiver, and Steve Mariucci, the coach and the 49ers summoning up something that Northern California didn't know they had. Maybe even the 49ers did not know they had it, this crazy desire to do the unbelievable, until it happened, just spilling out of them like some sort of force they cannot explain.
It is, indeed, hard to explain, but it was primal and it was magical, and for 66,318 fans who screamed and shouted and refused to die along with their team, yes, it was beautiful.
"I don't know if we're the biggest team or the best team," Mariucci said, before holding out his hands, wide, "but I know we've got hearts this big."
He added another word, after pouring out of the wild, celebrating locker room: "Wow."
The New York Giants, big and brash and powerful, were clearly the better team at 38-14 in the third quarter. Quarterback Kerry Collins and receiver Amani Toomer and the scintillating rookie tight end Jeremy Shockey controlled the game, and were, simply, crushing the 49ers. Then it all came, like a flurry: The 49ers, switching to the quick pace of the two-minute offense and scoring with Owens catching a pass and a two-point conversion, beginning to believe at 38-22.
The 49ers, using a defense that felt the pressure to hold up its end of the bargain, chasing the Giants off the field in two critical shutdowns to close the third quarter and open the fourth. The 49ers, with Garcia, the maestro, scoring on a bootleg run, and with a field goal, to make it 38-33.
It all started to happen, and, as Mariucci gushed, "momentum wore a red jersey."
So much conspired to make this comeback move from the unreal to the real, and the Giants' attempt at a field goal from 42 yards with just more than three minutes left was no good. This led to the inevitable: Garcia, directing the two-minute drill like Montana or Young ever did at his best.
A 3rd-and-6 to Owens, for 7 yards. A 3rd-and-3, to tight end Eric Johnson, rumbling for 25 yards when the Giants, predictably, swarmed toward Owens instead. A Garcia scramble, lungs refusing to succumb to the incessant demands for more oxygen, for 12 yards. Then, Garcia, back to pass, looking, looking, seeing Owens double-covered, and firing a pure pass, a touchdown of 13 yards to Tai Streets with just one minute left. The 49ers -- who would believe it? -- led 39-38.
"When our backs are against the wall, Jeff is at his best," said Owens, ever the force, with nine catches for 177 yards and two touchdowns, including a 76-yard rumble to open the scoring. "And, we are at our best."
It still took more, this comeback that in playoff history trails only the staggering day in 1993 that the Buffalo Bills overcame a 35-3 playoff deficit to the Houston Oilers. This would not come easy, and the Giants would not want to head back to New York with the ignominy and the pain of this historic meltdown. Instead, Collins led New York to the 23-yard line with six seconds left. A 41-yard field-goal attempt by Matt Bryant would bring a crushing end to the 49ers' comeback -- but not on this day, not in this game that had too much 49ers energy.
Then, it happened: Giants long snapper Trey Junkin, their fourth long snapper of the season, and a 41-year-old man called out of retirement only for the playoffs, muffed the snap. It hit the grass before holder Matt Allen could set it, and the 49ers swarmed Allen. He rolled right, and tried a long, feckless pass downfield. Flags flew. Giants lineman Rich Seubert was downfield illegally, and the game was over.
Bedlam swept Candlestick. The 49ers poured on to the field, overcome. Center Jeremy Newberry, who had stirred up so much of a firestorm with his guarantee that the 49ers would "kick their ass," stood at midfield, shouting, over and over: "Did I tell 'em? Did I tell 'em?" Defensive coordinator Jim Mora ran down to the south end zone, arms waving, half-hugging and running with receivers coach George Stewart.
Inside the locker room, the music blared and the team exulted and team owner John York even began to dance.
"It's hard to fathom right now," Garcia said, his 331 passing yards, 60 rushing yards, three touchdown passes and one touchdown run standing as one of the great playoff performances in team history. "I can't grasp the emotions . . . you leave your heart and soul on the field . . . this is the most gratified and excited I've ever felt."
Across the hallway, other emotions took hold. The Giants tried to process what had happened, and how it happened, when the 49ers, down 38-14, went to this two-minute offense, put the game in Garcia's hands -- and won.
"This is about the worst loss I have ever felt in my entire life," Giants coach Jim Fassel said.
Junkin, the snapper, was devastated: "I cost 58 guys a shot at the Super Bowl . . . I should have stayed retired."
It took so much to happen. It took New York to fail spectacularly. All sorts of things loomed: a Giants personal foul on a late third-quarter punt that gave the 49ers the ball on the New York 27, to set up Garcia's touchdown run. A Giants defense that tired and wheezed as the game progressed, beaten in the cardiovascular test by a more fit 49ers team.
It took the Giants to botch two fourth-quarter field-goal tries, and to disintegrate on the last play. It took the crowd, also, believe it or not. Several 49ers, and Mariucci, said the team took its cue from the Faithful, who began to sense that a comeback was possible when Owens scored and caught the two-pointer to make the game 38-22.
"I started to sense the emotion and energy from the offense and from the crowd," Garcia said. "The crowd was tremendous, and made a difficult situation for the Giants."
Said Owens, sensing that moment, at 38-22, as the key: "We had them on their heels . . . and we kept charging."
Long after the game, the disbelief reigned. The team congregated in the parking lot for a big cookout, organized by Newberry's family. He attacked a plate of food, surrounded by friends, family and teammates, and gushed about what had just transpired.
"It would have been real easy to pack it up," he said, "but there's a lot of heart and people with fight to them on this team . . . I said what I said (about kicking the Giants' ass) not out of disrespect, but because I was confident in the other 52 guys on this team, because I believed in them."
And, of course, it took a quarterback who pushed his way into the lore with a game not soon forgotten.
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