No fantasy: Staley was fantastic with 49ers
Over the past 13 seasons, when Bay Area kids hit the playgrounds to act out their football fantasies, they were never Joe Staley.
They were Frank Gore, Vernon Davis, Marshawn Lynch, Jimmy Garoppolo, Colin Kaepernick, Raheem Mostert.
Those little tykes better hope that if their football dreams ever do come true and they get to the big time, there’s a Joe Staley waiting for them.
If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, the road to 49ers’ victories those 13 seasons was paved by Staley.
Staley announced his retirement Saturday. He limped off in typical selfsacrificing Olineman fashion, delaying his announcement so the 49ers could wheel and deal to fill the void he’s creating.
If Staley was thinking, “How will they ever forget me?” (he wasn’t), he got his answer in one news account of the day’s 49ers’ transactions: “The 49ers have already found Staley’s replacement.”
That’s like saying one of the Four Great Tenors has retired, but no problem, Justin Bieber
is ready to roll. Not to disparage Staley’s replacement, Pro Bowler Trent Williams, but the hole Staley leaves is as big as the holes he opened in defensive lines.
It’s not just that Staley was a great football player. He was a great 49er. After the 2018 season, before anyone dreamed that the sadsack 49ers were about to make a Super Bowl run, Staley was a potential free agent. When asked about his situation, he tried to go the smart route, play it coy, not tip his hand, talk about exploring his options, football is a business, yada yada.
He couldn’t pull it off.
Whom would he be kidding? He was freaking 49er, start to finish. Where do I sign?
If Staley was going to continue to put his body on the line for three brutal hours every Sunday, it wasn’t going to be for just a paycheck, it was going to be for his 49ers. For Staley, when you’ve served a decade in the trenches for one team, you know you won’t be able to summon what you need to summon on game day if you have to look in the lockerroom mirror to remind yourself what team you bleed for.
Staley’s value on the field can be quantified by marks given by coaches in video breakdowns, as well as by awards and honors. His value in the locker room was also major, but harder to define.
Life of the party? Sometimes. Staley’s a bright dude with a good sense of humor. Clearly liked and admired by his teammates, and definitely a media goto guy for thoughtful postgame analysis. You don’t become a fivetime finalist for the NFL’s Art Rooney Sportsmanship Award by being Grumpy Gus.
But it’s a bit more nuanced than that. For one thing, Staley was not a big fan of losing. He would almost always talk after games, but it was hard for him to be super helpful when his squad was 0and9. Hey, Mary Poppins had badhair days, but they got left on the cuttingroom floor.
Staley’s weather report: mostly sunny, with scattered clouds.
There’s no doubt Staley was a stabilizing force in the locker room, especially during the sucky seasons. He was a leader, although that was a role he grew into gradually, probably as he became more aware of how the younger guys looked to him. Just a guess, but maybe they noticed Staley’s leadership qualities before he did.
Staley certainly set a standard for toughness. The man could take a punch.
Upon retiring, Staley delivered one of his funniest lines, though not intentionally. He said, “My body is telling me it’s time.”
That’s like a 90yearold man in a walker saying, “My body is telling me it’s time to give up recreational MMA.”
If he had been a good listener, when his college coach told him to gain 80 pounds and move from tight end to tackle, Staley would have heard his body say, “Tell your coach to kiss your skinny rear end.”
Instead, Staley bulked up and signed on for the pain. If you lit up the body parts he has broken, bent or blown out, Staley would look like a Christmas tree.
And that’s not counting the psychic injuries — all the losses, and the rare times when Staley got beat, resulting in that rare commodity for offensive linemen: prominent mention in the game story.
When you kids hit the park to act out your football fantasies, and you dash in for a touchdown, go ahead, celebrate and dance, then turn around a point a finger at the little Joe Staley who created that hole that let you get to the end zone.
And the big Staley? Now he can start healing. Have a great retirement, Joe Staley. And a long one.