SANTA CLARA — The San Francisco 49ers have successfully navigated the minefield.
Despite the injuries that piled up like unpaid parking tickets, the midseason melodrama, and the varying adversities that usually sink lesser vessels, they sit at 10-4. The playoffs are a virtual lock. The NFC West crown is within reach. The No. 1 seed is a mathematical possibility. A Super Bowl run seems possible.
It’s an exceptional coaching job from Kyle Shanahan and his coordinators. It is a testament to the culture and program Shanahan and John Lynch have built in Santa Clara.
It’s undeniably impressive stuff. I sure didn’t see any of this coming just a few weeks ago.
And it is also terribly, utterly unimportant.
Because while the 49ers are busy calculating playoff seeding and figuring out tiebreakers, there is a far more pressing matter of cosmic justice that needs to be addressed before the postseason bracket is inked. This goes beyond the standings. It goes to the very soul of the sport.
The Niners need to get the Big Man a touchdown. And they need to do it now.
Trent Williams is 37 years old. He has played in 223 NFL games. He is the greatest offensive lineman of his generation, one of the greatest offensive players of all time, and a walking gold jacket who just happens to still be mauling defensive ends.
He has millions of dollars, endless accolades, and the respect of every peer who has ever strapped on a helmet.
But he has zero touchdowns. And folks, it is starting to make him sad.
We cannot sit idly by while this happens. This isn’t about stats; it’s about the joy of the game.
And it’s absolutely about the delight of watching a 320-pound man do what the little guys get paid to do.
The urgency of this crisis came into sharp focus this past Sunday. In a win over the Titans — a game where the details will largely wash away within days, if not hours — Williams had to endure a specific kind of torment. He played a stellar game, as per usual. But he also had to stand there and watch Titans quarterback Cam Ward scramble out of play-action, look to the back of the end zone, and float a delicate pass to… Jeffery Simmons.
Simmons, the Titans’ All-Pro defensive tackle, had reported as a fullback. Then, when he didn’t get the ball on a handoff, he ran a scramble drill that would make George Kittle proud.
He caught the ball. He spiked the ball. He danced.
And Williams watched.
After the game, when reporters asked Williams about his peer’s sweet mitts, the big man offered a polite chuckle, but the air in the room grew heavy. The light in his eyes dimmed just a fraction.
“That was a cool little wrinkle,” Williams said, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand unthrown passes. “It’s whatever, man. At the end of the day, I’ve had a long time to sit there and fantasize over a touchdown. I think those fantasies kind of faded a bit.”
Read that again.
That is the sound of a dream dying. That is the resignation of a man who has accepted that he is destined to always be Kevin Costner and never Whitney Houston.
It’s a black mark on the record of Shanahan, offensive genius, that he hasn’t found a way to make this happen.
He should read that quote and feel a pang of guilt in his soul.
To be fair, it’s not like they haven’t flirted with the idea. We all remember Week 11 in 2021, right?
Well, in that game against the Jaguars, the 49ers were up 20-3.
They put Williams in at tight end. He reported as eligible. He released. He was, for a fleeting moment, a majestic eagle soaring through the sky as the ball was thrown his way.
Jimmy Garoppolo overthrew him. (And the double coverage.)
“It’s definitely a lot harder than it looks,” Williams said back then, masking the pain with humor. “I’m not going to lie, I started thinking about what dance I was going to do.”
Still, the seed was planted. Later that postseason, against the Packers, Shanahan used Williams as an “eligible” again. But this was at midfield — a touchdown was out of the question — so Shanahan used Williams as a “wham” blocker.
“I can’t believe it’s legal. It’s scary for me to even watch,” Shanahan said of the block at the time.
It was cool. It went viral. But it wasn’t six points.
The 49ers’ offensive machine is currently humming. They hung three touchdowns on the Browns in a gale-force wind. They dropped four on the Titans. The final stretch—Colts, Bears, Seahawks—presents challenges, sure. The Bears’ defense is stout, and the Seahawks are, well, the Seahawks. But this team has margin for error now. They have the capital to spend.
Shanahan loves to talk about how Williams is a “freak,” how he moves like a man 100 pounds lighter. We see it every week when he runs out into space and sends defensive backs into another dimension.
We don’t need a tackle-eligible dump-off in the flats or a screen where he has to run 40 yards.
We just need one yard. One play-action bootleg at the goal line where the defense flows left, and Williams slides right, alone.
One handoff to the upback that wears No. 71.
The NFC West title would be nice, sure. And the playoff seeding will sort itself out. But the window to fix a spiritual inequity is closing. And the Niners can’t save this one for the playoffs.
The man wants a title, of course, but he really wants that touchdown.
Indulge him.
He has been thinking of his touchdown dance for four years. Let him do it before the music stops.