Kurtenbach: The 49ers’ carpet ride hit a wall in Seattle. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t magic
SEATTLE —
Would you want them smashing Gatorade coolers? Tossing helmets? Pointing fingers? Perhaps trashing the visiting locker room like a hair metal band in 1987?
Or maybe you’d prefer the quiet, despondent look—staring into the middle distance, contemplating the futility of existence?
If you wanted either of those stereotypical responses, the San Francisco 49ers were not your team on Saturday.
Yes, the Niners got the absolute snot kicked out of them Saturday. It was a beatdown. A drubbing. A splattering. For the second time in 14 days, the Seahawks didn’t just beat them; they embarrassed them on national television.
But the 49ers exited Seattle — and the 2025 NFL season — with their heads held high.
And you know what? After a season that made as much sense as a screen door on a submarine, they had every right to do just that.
Don’t get me wrong, the 49ers weren’t happy about losing. But the vibe in the postgame locker room wasn’t angst, anger or regret.
No, it was pride, heart and togetherness.
Is that corny? Absolutely. It’s cheesier than a Hallmark movie written by a golden retriever.
But how else do you explain a team held together by duct tape, used gum and stubbornness getting within two wins of a Super Bowl?
This wasn’t a championship roster; it was a triage unit that occasionally played football.
And yet they had everyone — even the biggest naysayers (myself included) thinking “maybe.”
“We (were) playing with house money when you get to this point playing with who we played with,” left tackle Trent Williams said Saturday.
He’s not wrong. But the Niners weren’t just playing with house money; they were playing with a chip they found on the casino floor while being escorted out by security.
“I’ve never been a part of a team that was so behind the eight ball but just found a way to compete every week. We went up against so many rosters that were fully loaded while we were playing with guys that we got a week ago, two weeks ago,” Williams added. “The fact that we were able to get to this part of the season — the divisional round in the playoffs and (gave) ourselves a chance to get in the NFC Championship… I’m just proud of this team, man.”
Here is the reality of the 2025 San Francisco 49ers: They were the zombies of the NFL. They were the Walking Dead, shambling forward, wrongly colored, missing limbs, and somehow ducking and dekeing that fatal blow to the noggin for months.
Saturday was just the shotgun blast we all knew was coming.
Perhaps they had ducked it for so long we forgot such an end was inevitable.
The 49ers never publicly admitted it — because NFL coaches would rather cop to tax fraud than lower expectations in front of the media — but behind closed doors, this was supposed to be a “gap year” for Kyle Shanahan and John Lynch’s program.
They treated the roster like a hedge fund treats a new company: They purged veterans. They ignored big-time free agency like it was a telemarketer’s call. They went all-in on the draft and let their coaches handle the picks.
Their actions spoke louder than words, even if Shanahan did slip up in the preseason and compare this team to his 2017 squad that didn’t win a game until mid-November.
As I said: gap year.
And with all the injuries — again — they had every reason to break down and call it what it was at any point since the last time the Niners played here in Week 1.
Let’s review the casualty report, once again, shall we?
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They lost their starting quarterback after Week 1, and then again after Week 4.
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But their backup QB won five of eight games, despite being beaten to a pulp in every game.
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They lost Nick Bosa, their best pass rusher and an All-Pro, in Week 3.
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They lost their best linebacker, All-Pro Fred Warner in Week 6.
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First-round rookie Mykel Williams, a one-man run defense, was knocked out for the season in Week 9.
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George Kittle missed 40 percent of the regular season and 75 percent of the playoffs.
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Brandon Aiyuk ghosted them.
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Ricky Pearsall, Aiyuk’s replacement? Nine games played, zero playoff catches.
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Jauan Jennings claimed to have broken five ribs and twisted both ankles. He caught only 55 of 90 targets and was far and away their best wideout.
And on Saturday? Christian McCaffrey, the only thing on the offense that stayed in one piece all season, picked up a stinger while the game was still technically competitive.
So, who did they have left for the biggest games?
A collection of practice squad heroes, guys signed off couches, and a couple of guys who were probably delivering Uber Eats to the facility when they got handed a jersey.
And kids. So many kids.
Second-year guard Dominick Puni, who injured his PCL in the preseason but played the entire regular season on a knee that looked like a melon, summed it up perfectly. He noted the only difference between last year’s injury crisis and this year’s — situations that necessitated a copious amount of youth to hit the field — was that this season “we kept winning.”
“We had a lot of young guys (who) contributed a lot to our success. They have a really, really bright future,” Williams said. “We won 13 games. That kind of tells it all right there. They just give you a lot of hope.”
And if the Lombardi Trophy wasn’t a real possibility, isn’t that the ultimate byproduct?
Now, let’s not start planning the parade route yet. This is the NFL, where happiness is fleeting, and knees are fragile. Kittle is likely out for 2026 with a torn Achilles. They have key players who will be free agents. Both coordinators — Klay Kubiak and Robert Saleh — might land head coaching gigs this offseason.
But Shanahan’s program didn’t just survive; it got weirdly stronger.
Brock Purdy proved he drives a winning machine; he’s not just some guy along for the ride.
Shanahan silenced the “he can’t coach” crowd (again).
And that young defense has the potential to fulfill the Niners’ “Rams plan” and turn into a top-five unit in the years to come.
Yes, there is a massive gap between the Niners and the Seahawks right now. About 35 points, to be exact. But don’t confuse San Francisco’s survival act with luck.
What they got, they earned. What they built has the structural integrity of a fallout bunker.
Yes, it was a gap year.
But it went as well as anyone could have dreamed, right up until the moment it went exactly as badly as everyone predicted.