Photo Gallery from Bill Walsh Field at Monster Park

Ed. Note: The LBMS staff photographer traveled to the city to enjoy a sunny afternoon of football as the San Francisco 49ers hosted the Seattle Seahawks in a battle for first place in the NFC West. Here are the moments he captured.











"Look Ma! It's Gore-ville Redenbacher." Franky dropped the football twice more in the first quarter of this ballgame and we're beginning to wonder if we should ask Coach Nolan to remove the popcorn machine from the team's film room.




















A candid photograph snapped of the team's front five, which allowed SIX first-half sacks Sunday. (Larry Allen, Jonas Jennings, and Joe Staley are on other side of the piece of coagulated milk)
















An extreme up-close of the stone-age throwback jerseys/gloves that the WR/LB/DBs wore for the game! They really came in handy for LB Derek Smith in the first quarter as he dropped a cupcake at midfield that Seattle QB Matt Hasselbeck attemped to feed him.
















Here we have 2005 MVP Shaun Alexander breaking off another impressive 20-inch run. We think he may be suffering from vertigo. Actually, wait, no he's just done.













The scene on Bill Walsh field after the 49ers successfully completed a hat trick in the third quarter. Yep, three consecutive pre-snap offensive penalties (2 false starts and 1 illegal formation)




















Alas, a shot of the San Francisco pass rush, taken at the line of scrimmage. Similar photos were snapped throughout the game. It appears Hasselbeck fed them warm milk from his teet before kickoff, as he had ALL DAY to find a receiver EVERY TIME he dropped back.

All in all, a fun day to be a 9er fan!

Seattle 23
S.F. 3

A 96-Hour Boner

The most exciting NL pennant races in recent memory. The best football game ever played on a Friday^. A blitzkriegingly beautiful Saturday matchup featuring two top 10* teams. Hockey pops its head back out, in England. NFL SUNDAY!! And then a delectable tiramisu on MNF. Wow, a truly blissful weekend of sporting activity on the horizon.

Actually not on the horizon. It's here! It began when Daffy Holtz gave us and the Bulls our weekly pep talk. Where we not only learned about bumblebee aeronautics, but also that sex and violence on our VCR makes us hypocrites! In case you need extra incentive to watch this ballgame, check out the speedy little bugger, Noel DIVINE's, high-light reel (extra impressive considering his high-school home field doubled as a dirt parking lot). Oh yeah, and he's just a back-up.

As Deadspin pointed out, the Rockies do need a fight song as they continue to suck the mile-high air from their opponents' soul cavities. As for the porn-mustachioed-led Mets? Lawl. Try removing track 14 from your clubhouse boombox, bro.

Enjoy the festivities everyone. If for whatever reason you start to lose wood Monday afternoon before the Pats-Bengals offensive shitshow ...well... better to keep it sporting-related. Contact your doctor if erection lasts past the two-minute warning of the MNF game.

^At LBMS, we of course measure the quality of game by the turnover total (double digits baby!!)
*Fuck off, Ruckgers

The Death of Death Row

Ed. Note: Evin "The Locomotive" Murphy finds time to belt out taint-tingling prose for LBMS from bathroom stall A at his real estate office in Santa Cruz, CA. Here, we present his initial offering:

Watching Bonds' final game in a Giants uni was the first televised funeral I've seen since they buried 2Pac. Unfortunately, Barry's funeral didn't offer any real chance for televised reprisal killings or represent the end of something anyone still valued. More on par with Suge Knight's incarceration sentencing than Pac's memorial, Bonds' last game signaled the removal of an overweight, over-entitled, washed-up thug tactician whose domination of the industry had clearly (pun intended) washed up long ago.

So long and thanks for all the IBBs

Thank you Barry. Thank you for keeping the Giants in San Francisco, and for the glorious shrine to baseball that is Pac Bell Park. Thank you for your 586 home runs, +.300 batting average, and Ruthian OPS.

Thank you for your five MVP seasons. For winning Jeff Kent the award in 2000 and then holding back on snapping his neck two years later in the dugout.

Thank you for our four playoff berths (and the 103 win-season reem job in '93). For saying fuck you to your critics and hitting four bombs while batting .471 in the travesty that was the '02 Series.

Thanks for keeping 'The Next Episode' constantly embalmed in our domes with each and every walk-up to the box. For single-handedly blossoming the rubber chicken industry, and allowing New Era to churn out record profits as the size of your hat/head continued to "mature."

Thank you for everything Barry. Have a pleasant chariot ride to Cooperstown. Now please, just let us fucking rebuild already.

Here are two very fine pieces on how the fanbase feels: San Francisco's Bonds, Mixed Emotions

Merchandise Sales Spike/Deep Sea Bloodbath

Whoa, when did the Sharks relocate to D.C.? We all know the little weasel Gary Bettman runs the sneakiest operation of the Big 4, but how could a jersey change of a Western Conference powerhouse go unnoticed til now? Oh, that's right it's not the playoffs yet.

As if now having to put up with wannabe spokesman Jeremy Roenick isn't tough enough for Sharks fans we must also bid adieu to the ferocious yet friendly old logo; and welcome in a more lethal, more jagged, new fish emblem.

Time for a Lord Mullet Melrose-esque Analysis of the two, side-by-side: On the left you have the old stand-by. Terrific symmetry; long, sharp teeth; and it's even registered!

To the right, the new logo: A more barbed approach (the framing triangle is even bent like an arrowhead); teal highlighting; and somewhat surprisingly, the teeth aren't as long!

New logo cons: The stick doesn't appear to be game-used (notice the lack of tape on the handle), and the shark seems to have gotten a wooden shard lodged into its right eye.

New logo pros: One can no longer mistake the left pectoral fin for a second, choad-like dorsal fin, as was often the case for the dimensionally-challenged old logo.

Consensus: This hellacious, serrated new emblem remains at a lower rank. But give him time, he may just swim into our heart. Or perhaps harpoon it out with his needle-like nose.

Panning for Nuggets

...because too many refs mimick Hellen Keller

Although the 9ers lost by a considerable margin to a superior Pittsburgh team Sunday, the game really was much closer than the scoreboard suggested. We'd like to think that it was all head ref Gerald Austin's fault for his dick-slappingly egregious incomplete call on a Vernon Davis catch that would've given SF first-and-goal in the red zone at a crucial juncture of the ball game (And he even reviewed the play! Goofy ol' Gerry must've sipped out of his warm milk thermos and slept for the 3+ minutes he was under there).

But we don't make excuses. A loss is a loss. Davis is now out for two weeks with a sore knee after being boned repeatedly by Austin's goons. 95% of the receiving corps are either part or full-time stone masons. Alex Smith's completion rating would be 10-percent higher if he didn't have to play the role of a little schoolboy throwing a tennis ball against a brick wall. But we digress, D-Jack better wax his grudge and step up huge against his old team Sunday.

Words to live by: "Don't cry about the ball and not catch the ball," coach Mike Nolan. (though his message may get through to the players a little clearer should he revert back to blazers over the shirt and tie, rather than his recent trend of windbreakers.)

Another one of these? Fuck it, down the hatch

No, that isn't Mark Chmura lending a high school girl a cup of spiked punch at the spring sock hop. But it might as well be. Alas, another sporting-related web log. Step into our dungeon...