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Dear Jed: I'm not mad, just disappointed

A letter addressing the grievances of the collective Faithful.

Dear Mister York,

Hello. It's me. I was wondering if after all these years, you'd like to meet, to go over this football team. Because I'm in California dreaming of the team we used to be. But seriously, there are a few things I need to get off my chest and while it might get a little heated, I promise everything I'm about to say 1.) isn't personal, and 2.) will be at least ten-times nicer than anything you'll read in your Twitter mentions.

First and foremost, you should know that while some of us may be legitimately angry, more accurate descriptors for the overwhelming majority would be frustrated, disappointed, and embarrassed. No one needs to explain to you the rich and prestigious history of this once-proud franchise so I feel alright just glossing over the wonder years and cutting right to the current situation: this sh*t is bad. It's really, really bad.

Quite frankly, the product that's being marched out onto the field right now, in 2015, is so stinking rotten that I've been turned off entirely from the sport of football in general, for a few reasons. The easiest one to explain is that we're just an objectively sh*tty football team, so let's start there first.

I made the conscious decision to watch a trashy, racist-as-hell Adam Sandler movie over watching my football team.

At the time of writing, it's Sunday evening. But do you know how I spent my Sunday afternoon? I drank sh*tty beer and watched the newest Adam Sandler movie on Netflix. That's right. I made the conscious decision, in my mind, to watch a trashy, racist-as-hell, horribly-written and acted Adam Sandler movie...over watching my football team.

I'll tell you what - if sports team owners ever needed a barometer to measure how immensely hard sh*t is hitting the fan, they should start by gauging how much sooner fans would rather watch a culturally-insensitive and egregiously offensive straight-to-streaming film in which an orphaned Adam Sandler is raised by a tribe of Native Americans (And by the way, on that spectrum, sitting through a 49ers game this season probably falls somewhere between sitting through an Adam Sandler movie and sitting through a computer literacy course for senior citizens).

But it's not enough to suffer privately, no. You see, this sorry excuse for a football team has also profoundly impacted other aspects of my life as well. Take, for instance, any social situation in which I'm surrounded by other sports fans and have to admit that I'm a 49ers fan. It's basically the sports equivalent of knocking door-to-door in a new neighborhood and personally informing everyone that you're a registered sex offender.

(Photo Credit: Kyle Terada - USA Today Sports)

But the fun doesn't end there, especially if you're a real fan, because then you feel innately obligated to explain and somehow justify your team's present state of sh*tty disarray. It's like trying to explain to strangers why your parents got a divorce - No matter how well you do it, it's just awkward and uncomfortable for everyone involved.

Of course, our frustrations are only compounded by the fact that, just a few years ago, we were so close to being really, really good again. Those seasons, from 2011 to 2013, were magical. Sure, we fell short a few times but it was easily the most thrilling and exciting and fun football had been for any of us in a long, long time.

Remember when Alex threw the game-winning touchdown to Vernon against the Saints in the Divisional Round? And watching Vernon scamper off the field into the arms of his coaches and teammates with tears rolling down his face? That sh*t was heavy. Like, having-sex-to-Coldplay heavy. Generations of 49ers fans felt those tears because we had just endured an entire decade of humiliation and mediocrity.

We don't hate you. We would just much rather go back to hating the Seahawks.

It just felt great to be great again...but now, after going from Super Bowl to Toilet Bowl in record time, we're back to square one. Talk about a terrible case of blue balls. But we didn't just get blue balls - it's more like Usain Bolt getting a running start and performing a flying dropkick into our blue balls.

Also, I don't think you understand the epic amount of sh*t-talking I did in that span of time in which we were winning. A pretty substantial amount of sh*t was talked. Cards fans got it, those miserable Rams fans got it, and you better believe I told the 12th Man to suck a chode once or twice. And now, I'm so ashamed to show my face on social media that I've basically been relegated to communicating to loved ones strictly via smoke signals.

Listen. We don't want lofty reassurances and we definitely don't need empty promises...just a little transparency would be nice. And we're pretty sure you have good intentions (because it's simply bad business sense to deliberately screw up your football team) but maybe you could demonstrate those intentions in better ways. I'd highly recommend that you just take a step back, take a big, deep breath, and let the football minds worry about football things.

Finally, it's important that you know sports fans, by their very nature, need to hate things. We hate it when our team isn't doing as well as we want them to. We hate our rivals. We hate paying for grossly overpriced Budweisers while we get terrible sunburns sitting in our grossly overpriced seats. But we only hate because we love our team so much.

So don't take the hate-tweets so personally. We don't hate you. We would just much rather go back to hating the Seahawks and loving the 49ers. I hope we can get back there soon.

With warmest regards,

The Faithful