“The hell you doing here?”
It’s taken fullback Kyle Juszczyk exactly five seconds to notice there’s an intruder in the 49ers locker room. Kyle Shanahan has given me permission to observe halftime of the Dec. 11 game against Tom Brady and the Buccaneers. He agrees the resulting story might be a good explainer of what really goes on behind the closed — and closely guarded — doors of a halftime locker room.
The cliche involves soaring speeches and players getting whipped into a frenzy before the third quarter. And while there’s certainly a rah-rah element to the intermission, no one is delivering “win one for the Gipper” sermons in the NFL. There’s no time. Halftime lasts only 13 minutes, and the players might be inside for roughly 10 minutes.
“When you’re watching on TV, it feels like the halftime is an hour long,” said running back Christian McCaffrey. “When you’re playing, it feels like the snap of a finger.”
There’s no chair-throwing or pounding on metal locker doors like there is in “Any Given Sunday.” There’s simply too much to do. Halftimes are strictly business. And by the time Brady and the Buccaneers have made their visit to Santa Clara, the 49ers have become very good at taking care of business. (...)
The half hasn’t been perfect. Samuel, the team’s MVP from the previous season, was carted off the field after he was bent backward awkwardly at the end of a short run. And just before halftime, defensive back Dontae Johnson, one of the team’s longest-tenured players, suffered what turned out to be a season-ending ACL tear. Both are out of sight in the training room, which is adjacent to the main locker room, when halftime begins.
Still, there’s a confident energy among the players. Many grew up watching Brady. He’s got god-like status in the NFL, and he’s managed to get beyond the 50-yard line only twice so far. That has everyone buzzing. It’s like the locker room is a massive pinball table with 53 players pinging this way and that.
It’s taken fullback Kyle Juszczyk exactly five seconds to notice there’s an intruder in the 49ers locker room. Kyle Shanahan has given me permission to observe halftime of the Dec. 11 game against Tom Brady and the Buccaneers. He agrees the resulting story might be a good explainer of what really goes on behind the closed — and closely guarded — doors of a halftime locker room.
The cliche involves soaring speeches and players getting whipped into a frenzy before the third quarter. And while there’s certainly a rah-rah element to the intermission, no one is delivering “win one for the Gipper” sermons in the NFL. There’s no time. Halftime lasts only 13 minutes, and the players might be inside for roughly 10 minutes.
There’s no chair-throwing or pounding on metal locker doors like there is in “Any Given Sunday.” There’s simply too much to do. Halftimes are strictly business. And by the time Brady and the Buccaneers have made their visit to Santa Clara, the 49ers have become very good at taking care of business. (...)
The half hasn’t been perfect. Samuel, the team’s MVP from the previous season, was carted off the field after he was bent backward awkwardly at the end of a short run. And just before halftime, defensive back Dontae Johnson, one of the team’s longest-tenured players, suffered what turned out to be a season-ending ACL tear. Both are out of sight in the training room, which is adjacent to the main locker room, when halftime begins.
Still, there’s a confident energy among the players. Many grew up watching Brady. He’s got god-like status in the NFL, and he’s managed to get beyond the 50-yard line only twice so far. That has everyone buzzing. It’s like the locker room is a massive pinball table with 53 players pinging this way and that.
They have the first four minutes to themselves. Defensive end Nick Bosa, who’s been dealing with a mild hamstring strain in the run-up to the game, makes a quick stop in the training room before heading to his locker. Tight end Charlie Woerner picks up a massage gun and presses it into his upper hamstring as he walks around the room.
Many players change the tape on their wrists and ankles; some change their gloves or at least take them off to let them air out. Receiver Jauan Jennings takes off his cleats and walks around in his socks.
“It’s a reset,” he said when asked about it later. “Your foot isn’t even supposed to be in a shoe to begin with, so it’s a grounding type of thing.”
Most players take advantage of their free time by addressing the most important business of all.
“I normally sit in my seat, put my helmet down,” tackle Mike McGlinchey said when asked about his routine. “Then I make sure I use the restroom.”
If it’s been raining, players will change their socks and cleats. If it’s hot or the game’s in a high-altitude city, a handful will pop into the training room for IVs the way a race car makes a pit stop during the Indy 500.
Many players change the tape on their wrists and ankles; some change their gloves or at least take them off to let them air out. Receiver Jauan Jennings takes off his cleats and walks around in his socks.
“It’s a reset,” he said when asked about it later. “Your foot isn’t even supposed to be in a shoe to begin with, so it’s a grounding type of thing.”
Most players take advantage of their free time by addressing the most important business of all.
“I normally sit in my seat, put my helmet down,” tackle Mike McGlinchey said when asked about his routine. “Then I make sure I use the restroom.”
If it’s been raining, players will change their socks and cleats. If it’s hot or the game’s in a high-altitude city, a handful will pop into the training room for IVs the way a race car makes a pit stop during the Indy 500.
by Matt Barrows, The Athletic | Read more:
Image: Kyle Terada / USA Today
