"Bambi! Bambi! Bambi!"
Jeff Locke raised his hands high, clenched into fists, and waved them while shouting. He used his back to push open the bar door, and his excited voice echoed through the bar. The echoes overlapped, and the sound doubled, instantly making him the center of attention in the entire bar.
The silence in the bar was beyond Jeff's imagination. It was as if his intrusion had disturbed the comfort and enjoynt. Jeff's words paused for a mont. He looked around in confusion and doubt, then looked at Chris Wilson, who had just entered after him. He lowered his voice and said carefully, "Didn't you say this was a fan bar?"
The so-called fan bar was not a bar that only served fans; it was just a na fans used themselves.
On ga days, fans with season or ga tickets would go to the stadium to watch the ga. The fans without tickets would gather at their usual bars to find other like-minded fans to watch the ga and celebrate together.
Team sports are a pri example of the saying, "Happiness shared is happiness doubled." Compared to watching the ga at ho, the atmosphere of a bar always makes the ga more exciting.
The bar in front of them was located in the area where San Francisco's Little Italy and Japantown t. The dark brown oak and rough leather western-style decor were understated and simple, rugged and wild, revealing traces of ti and use. But overall, it was a bit monotonous, without much stylistic or typical decor. It was just an ordinary bar on the street.
"Joe's Bar" was a na that was so simple it was almost vulgar, with no special features. However, for the local residents, it was a family bar that was part of the neighborhood's mories and history. It had been around for more than half a century, passed down from generation to generation. The current owner was the third generation, and the "Joe" in the bar's na was his great-grandfather.
The Wilson family were regulars at this bar. The first ti Chris watched a ga, he snuck out with his father to "Joe's Bar," where he first experienced the noisy atmosphere of fans watching a ga.
They used to live in this area, only two blocks away. But they later moved to the church district, more than a dozen blocks away. Despite this, Chris was still used to watching the gas here. Most of his mories of the San Francisco 49ers were related to this bar.
"Guys, what's wrong? Shouldn't you be celebrating?" Chris looked at the bar with excitent, his voice lively as he tried to stir up the atmosphere.
Today, there were 50 to 60 people in the bar. The small bar was packed. But at this mont, there were no wild celebrations, no crazy parties, and no singing. The people were a little too calm, which felt very out of place.
Chris's eyes widened, and he waved his fists up and down excitedly, as if he was using every part of his body to express his emotions. "We just won the ga! And it was a last-minute coback! 'The Catch,' didn't you see it? 'The Catch!'"
Following Chris, Nate Chandler and Danny Reese also entered the bar and stood next to Jeff, stopping. They then realized that they had beco the center of attention in the entire bar.
As far as they could see, the custors in the bar were all wearing the San Francisco 49ers' red ho jerseys. The vast sea of red looked spectacular, like a fla, igniting the air. Fans of all ages looked over, sizing up Jeff and his two companions. In the silence, a strong sense of exclusion beca more and more obvious, as if an invisible wall had ford.
Jeff looked down and realized that they were wearing the pure blue jerseys of the UCLA Bruins. They stood out in the sea of red. In the Bay Area, where San Francisco is located, Stanford and UC Berkeley are the main schools. Clearly, they were out of place here.
"Chris, we know. Of course, we know." A bearded middle-aged man standing behind the bar, with his hands crossed on the bar, said with a smile. "In fact, we've already celebrated three tis. You missed it."
Anthony DiNozzo, the current owner of "Joe's Bar," was also the bartender. He spent most of his day in the bar, socializing with the regulars.
Chris still held his hands up high, his face full of surprise. "You're done celebrating? Shouldn't we be partying all night? We beat the Dallas Cowboys! And it was a coback win! God, this is one of the most exciting gas since the start of the season. How can you be done celebrating now? You guys are such buzzkills!"
"For the 49ers!" Chris shouted loudly. The next mont, everyone in the bar raised their beer mugs and cheered in unison, "For the 49ers!"
At this mont, the fan atmosphere in the bar finally ca out. Everyone's faces were filled with joy and excitent. A victory was enough to dispel fatigue and worries and light up the entire day, and today was no exception.
Amid the celebration, a small old man sitting by the bar didn't join in. He picked up the wine glass in front of him and walked over slowly.
The old man was thin and a little hunched over. He had a ssy beard and was wearing a worn-out jersey that was not brand new but had traces of ti on it. It looked like it had been around for a while. He was either a senior fan or a holess person who had found the jersey in a trash can or donation box and put it on.
He walked up to Chris, shook his head, and scoffed. "Don't get happy too soon. Everyone sees this Chinese-Arican quarterback as a savior, but I have to pour so cold water on you. He's not."
"Jonathan, don't be a killjoy!" Chris spread his hands and complained. "Besides, he's just a rookie quarterback, and he's performing so well. What more can we ask for? He's given us two consecutive victories. Why can't you just enjoy it and give a little support so this rookie can feel so warmth?"
The old man's na was Jonathan Baldwin. He was also a die-hard San Francisco 49ers fan who had loved and supported the team his entire life, experiencing both the highs and lows.
After the new millennium, he, like all fans, had been waiting for the team to find a top-tier quarterback to lead the team back to greatness. But they had been disappointed for eight consecutive years.
"He doesn't need warmth. He needs to have a clear understanding of himself." Jonathan criticized rcilessly. "Has he won the last two gas? Yes. Has he perford well? Yes. But that's all. This is just the beginning. I have to remind you that in Alex's rookie season, we also saw a glimr of hope, but it was all eventually snuffed out."
"Are you kidding ?" Chris raised his hands in disbelief. "Alex Smith's rookie season was a disaster. He played nine gas and only threw one touchdown and 11 interceptions! That was a nightmare!"
"But after he beca the starting quarterback, he threw three touchdowns and no interceptions in his first three gas, along with 814 yards!" Jonathan retorted fiercely.
As the first overall pick in the 2005 draft, Alex was not the starting quarterback in his rookie season but the second-string quarterback.
That year, Alex himself was plagued by injuries, and the starting quarterback at the ti, Cody Pickett, was inconsistent. So, the two of them rotated throughout the season. Overall, Alex's playing ti was less than a quarter of Cody's.
In 2006, Alex officially beca the starting quarterback. This was where the dispute between Chris and Jonathan ca from.
Jonathan continued, "That's my point. Alex was the first overall pick. We even passed on Aaron Rodgers and had high hopes for him. But a rookie is a rookie. They lack polish and experience. We shouldn't have too many expectations."
Chris looked around the bar in disbelief and said in surprise, "I can't believe that Lu Ke just led us to our second victory, giving us a two-ga winning streak, and you're here criticizing Lu Ke's lack of ability? My God, what are you expecting? To sweep both gas? This is the NFL, not the NBA!"
"Chris, Jonathan has a point," soone in the crowd chid in. "Two victories, that's a fact. But a rookie naturally lacks experience, and this quarterback looks too thin. His muscle explosiveness and endurance are far from what they should be. We're just lowering our expectations."
Chris's mouth hung open, and his eyes were full of shock. "Two victories, and you still can't support him? So what do you want to see? A Super Bowl in his rookie season? That's ridiculous!"
"Chris, you misunderstood. We're just lowering our expectations. That's all. This quarterback has done a pretty good job in the past two weeks. 'The Catch' at the end was really amazing today." A voice from another corner of the bar rang out, which led to so whistling and cheers.
But Chris still felt a little annoyed. "So what you're saying is that Alex should start in this week's ga?"
Jonathan nodded as if it was a given. "A rookie is a rookie after all. He won today with luck. In the next ga, we still need Alex to lead us. His experience and his knowledge are crucial."
"Bullsh*t!" Chris swore back. "How did I not know that you've started to like Alex? During the draft this year, you wanted to replace Alex Smith with Colin Kaepernick imdiately. How is it that now you're supporting Alex? And this is after this rookie quarterback has perford so well? Ridiculous! It's absolutely ridiculous!"
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