Lickett, Flickett, Stickett: Pickett!

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Well, at least two awesome things went down on the Hunter's Point landfill last afternoon. First, the 49ers flipped a lot of numbers on their proverbial ears, dispatching the 5-1 Buccaneers, 15-10. The Niners never folded, never turned the ball over, never allowed a sack, never let the Bucs break a run, never relinquished the lead.

Stories on the week that was focus on Pro Bowler and perennial Len Eshmont Award Winner (for inspiring teammates) Bryant Young having a "meltdown," making impassioned speeches and twice going after rookie tough guy David Baas in practice. Teammates restrained Young -- although, says fireplug impersonator Anthony Adams, it wasn't him:

"Whatever he said, he shouldn't have,'' said Adams, chuckling. "I wanted to see [BY] go.''

The other thing that happened is good news only to this kind of franchise. With their struggling first string quarterback hurt, and their second traded, the Niners were resorting to former athlete Ken Dorsey to inch them closer to the draft pick that brings them USC runner Reggie Bush.

But Dorsey -- one 49er who plays more like a Scottish Claymore, in more ways than one -- let the wrong D-lineman sit on him, and had to limp off. And so it was that Cody Pickett -- long, lean, strong, and speedy, a former rodeo cowboy, and this year's jack-of-all-trades, went literally from tackling a punt returner on one play to calling signals on the next one.

The crowd was chanting Cody's name; even the US Justice Department employee watching alongside me refused ample opportunities to rescind his ringing cheers at Dorsey's misfortune. (That's right, he's a prosecutor.)

Of course, Pickett's 1-for-1 performance and key scramble still amount to little more than handing the ball off ten times, and, as so often happens in life, the real heroes were the ones bending over and sticking their fat asses in the protagonist's boyish mug.

The good news, other than fellow doormat Houston Texans' win, leaving the Bush sweepstakes status quo (a downtrodden team can't play both sides, but a downtrodden fan certainly can) is that Dorsey's ankle, along with Alex Smith's knee, will continue doing funny things well into next week. So Pickett, who's at least kept a headset airborne a year longer than Smith, gets his chance next week against the Whoever, We'll Probably Lose Anyways next week.

Apparently, in the meeting after last week's shellacking by a decidedly average Redskins squad, Coach Nolan murmured a rhetorical question: "Are you guys still with me?" And everyone in the room shouted, "YES, SIR!" I don't know if that's true, but it beats reading about I. Lewis Libby, or G. Gordon Liddy, or whatever they're calling him these days. (Did he misplace his blue Hello My Name Is: Fall Guy nametag? Has anyone seen a headline like, "Lewis Libby Sinky Shippy?")

The last positive in Ninerville -- you've got to write about 'em when you find 'em -- was the crowd. If you thought Niner fans would stay home, or stay quiet, just because we've spent the millenium as the laughingstock of the NFC, you've misunderestimated the San Francisco sports fan.

In addition to fingering Pickett as the bench's best story (and Pickett-fingering is usually a five yard penalty) the 49er Faithful got good and loud, motivating the retro red jerseys -- a look that says "winners" -- drowning out Buc signal callers, and occassionally even the fourteenth-string announcing team they always throw at us.

The betting action on Niner games this year has centered on when this week's pair of bozos break down into biting remarks over college rivalries as play continues unnoticed. Seriously, they can't find two enthusiastic interns to throw in there?

So enjoy the attention for a week, Niner fans; or, if you're a Bay Area sports fan in general -- how can yesterday be the first day in almost two years that both the Niners and Raiders won? -- for a day only, until we get the bad news that the Warriors have either re-signed or failed to re-sign Mike Dunleavy by today's deadline.

'Til then, I bleed Niner red.

And to all you Jews out there: Chappy Challoween.

MR

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