Super Bowl baby:
Ann Killion has a personal measuring stick for the 49ers’ postseason success: her daughter.
My beloved daughter is many things: smart, funny, caring. She is also my little measuring stick for the 49ers’ Quest for Six.
Today, she is 25 years and 1 month old. A quarter century ago, she was a tiny infant when she attended her first — and, to date, only — Super Bowl.
I spent the 49ers’ 1994 season pregnant. As these things tend to go, first I was a little pregnant, and then a lot. As the 49ers wins piled up, my belly expanded. As the media crowd around the 49ers grew, my ability to navigate crowded spaces lessened.
“Let the pregnant lady through,” quarterback Steve Young started to say sometime around November as I would try to get close enough to hear what he was saying (back then there were no postgame podium interviews for players).
My daughter (didn’t know gender at the time) was due Dec. 23. I stopped working around midDecember and waited. And waited. Finally, she made her debut Dec. 29.
Two weeks later, I sat on my couch and watched Young, whom I had covered throughout his 49ers journey, finally beat the Dallas Cowboys in the NFC Championship Game. A little bit later, my phone — landline, of course — rang. It was my editor asking if I could go to the Super Bowl. My memory is that my daughter was latched on to my breast as we talked. I said that I could, but she would have to come with me. Challenge on! I bought a Super Bowl ticket for my thenhusband, for a whopping $200. I arranged with a friend in NFL media to get a press pass for my 1monthold, because even humans only slightly bigger than a football need either a ticket or a pass to enter an NFL stadium. My inlaws were enlisted to care for my 3year old, who proudly rocked a No. 8 jersey daily. And two parents and one baby got on a plane and flew to Miami.
The hurdle was game day, which tends to be a 12 to 15hour day for reporters. I was definitely going to have to feed her a couple of times. She attended the game in a Snugli on her father’s chest. He brought her to me at halftime, so I could feed her. Back in the day, newspapers had to have early notebooks that could be used for the first edition. Sportswriter mom feeds baby at halftime made a lot of early notebooks.
After the game, I was in the 49ers’ locker room. I saw head coach George Seifert, soaking wet from his Gatorade and Champagne baths. It was the moment of his greatest triumph: He had won a Super Bowl without Bill Walsh’s shadow looming. “Congratulations, George,” I said. He gave me a hug. “Congratulations to you!” he responded. “How’s your baby?”
This might not seem like a big deal in normal human interactions. But believe me, for an NFL coach in his biggest moment to remember that a reporter had just had a baby was surprising. And proof of Seifert’s rare humanity.
That night, I got back to my hotel room. Baby and father were fast asleep. The feeling would get shot down plenty of times in the coming years, but for a moment, I felt like Super Mom.
Happy anniversary, Kaitlin. Maybe your measuringstick days will be over soon.