Shanahan folded his offensive cards after QB injuries

If ever there was a moment for Kyle Shanahan's offensive genius to display itself, it was Sunday.

The Niners were down to their fourth-string quarterback, journeyman Josh Johnson. Then they were back to third-string Brock Purdy, only Purdy didn't have a throwing arm. He could only hand off the ball.

That's a problem, a big problem.

The 49ers had everything on the line in the NFC Championship Game, and everything was going wrong for them.

No quarterback, and a game that was slipping away — and yet the 49ers kept running the ball the way they always do, right into a Philadelphia defense that committed at least 10 men to stopping the run every snap; right until the clock hit 0:00 and the season ended with a 31-7 loss.

The 49ers had 164 yards of total offense Sunday, with more than half of it coming from Christian McCaffrey running into a sea of green jerseys that knew he was getting the ball.

I'm not saying that Shanahan calling every exotic play he can imagine — whether it had ever been practiced or not — would have changed the game's outcome. No, it probably would have increased the Eagles' margin of victory.

But there was a zero percent chance the plays Shanahan did call were going to win the game, and that was apparent in the moment.

Shanahan didn't throw anything interesting against the wall, so how could any of it stick? The kitchen sink is still attached to the wall, and I've yet to hear a good explanation why.

Credit to the Niners' players. They went down swinging — literally, in the cases of Dre Greenlaw and Trent Williams. You can't question the professionalism or toughness of anyone on that team. The football gods conspired against them Sunday, and they took it on the chin.

I wonder what they could have done if Shanahan had chosen to improvise just a bit.

There was little to no creativity in the offensive game plan with Johnson or after his injury. We didn't see Samuel take direct snaps. We didn't see Williams line up as a fullback. We didn't see anything bold or interesting or unique. The 49ers just ran it for two yards per play, every play, as the clock on their season ran out.

The 49ers played defense on offense. Was it all so the defense could be in a better position to score? That's an indefensible position.

That's a passive forfeit.

Nothing to lose, everything to gain. And the 49ers opted to do ... nothing.

Nothing interesting, that is. There were end-around runs and attempts at misdirection, but the Niners did nothing that the Eagles had not seen on film and prepared to stop. This was not the 2019 NFC Championship Game, where the Niners needed to pass only eight times to win.

Shanahan didn't have a quarterback, but he didn't fully scrap this original game plan. He just pared it down.

All the while, the Niners' small chance of reaching the Super Bowl was being pared down, too.

The Niners tried one “gadget” or “trick” play — a direct snap to McCaffrey where the running back was allowed to throw the ball. No one was open, so McCaffrey threw it away. That play came with five minutes remaining, and the Eagles led by the final score. That play, or another play like it, stood a chance of gaining some serious yards.

Why wait until the game is done to try it?

And ignoring that, why not try it more than once?

Who cares if you lose by 50? The 49ers could not win Sunday's game without throwing the ball, so if the team's one remaining quarterback was incapable of throwing, then the Niners needed to find someone other than a quarterback to put the ball in the air.

Purdy is a legend for re-entering the game, but what value was he bringing to the Niners playing after his injury? He couldn't run the ball himself, he couldn't pass the ball, either, and he's not going to provide any blocking. Outside of getting the team lined up in a timely fashion — Johnson had three delay-of-game penalties in his short time in the game — what could Purdy do?

The 49ers spent all of training camp talking about playing 11-on-11 football, but they ended the season playing 10-on-11.

So why not try someone else who might be able to do something at quarterback?

Jauan Jennings was a high school quarterback.

McCaffrey threw a touchdown pass this season.

Deebo Samuel, I'm sure, can throw the ball 40 yards. He can do everything else on a football field, after all.

Kyle Juszczyk has been the team's emergency quarterback for six years. Surely there were some plays he could run with him under center. I've seen Shanahan run the option with him at fullback — why not just shift those looks?

That would have been eons better than what happened Sunday.

Instead of something quirky and even fun — a bit of gallows humor that has the added benefit of actually giving the team a chance to score touchdowns — Shanahan decided to call sad, futile plays.

George Kittle — who would have been a fascinating quarterback — estimated the Niners' playbook was limited to 15 plays.

“It's not like we were throwing the kitchen sink at anybody,” tackle Mike McGlinchey said. “Those things are already on film.”

Perhaps it was all just a bid to expedite the proceedings and, in turn, save a bit of face.

If that was the case, the bid failed. No one will remember the margin of the defeat, just the Niners' slow march to it. It would have been so much better to see Shanahan drawing up plays he never thought he could call in a game for the final two quarters. Let that freak flag fly, Kyle!

Losing a championship game is always a tough pill to swallow, but there's dignity in trying every last possible thing imaginable before succumbing.

I don't think the 49ers did that Sunday. And I think the offensive coordinator — aka the head coach — is to blame.

Shanahan is right that fate dealt the Niners a terrible hand Sunday.

But with all the chips already in the middle of the table, I can't help thinking Shanahan decided to fold.