I think it’s time we had a chat. I owe you an apology.
Earlier this year, April 28 to be exact, I was less than enthusiastic about you. When your name was called as the seventh overall pick by the Niners I was confused, bewildered and pissed off. I believe my exact words with something along the lines of “who the hell is Aldon Smith and why does the 49er front office hate us all?”
I wasn’t very big on you, I must say. I was hoping for Prince Amukamara, or at least Christian Ponder on Blaine Gabbert. When your name was called, it was a bit of a shock, and given the Niners’ recent history with “project” draft picks in the early rounds, I figured we should save everyone some time and just send you straight to Seattle for a sixth-rounder.
I was wrong. Very, very wrong. It turns out you are a pretty damn good player. It turns out you are a snarling sackbeast that runs over 300-pound tackles en route to hitting quarterbacks before then even finish their drops.
You had Ben Roethlisberger so worried, he forgot that his foot was being held to the rest of his leg by a roll of athletic tape. When you destroyed Tampa, I could smell the load in Josh Freeman’s pants from my couch.
You, sir, were one hell of a draft pick.
Okay, it has certainly helped matters that they other positions of need were filled quite well on their own. Carlos Rodgers has come out of nowhere to become a guy QBs deliberately throw away from. Jim Harbaugh has managed to turn Alex Smith around from a QB who just did enough to lose to the guy who manages to keep them ahead when the clock runs out.
But you, sir, have had one hell of a season. When you put Sam Bradford into the St. Louis turf (and being that its your first game back in your home state, we know you will be amped to do just that) you will claim the rookie sack record and I will feel like a complete ass for reacting the way I did to your April selection.
Thanks. I’ve never been so happy to look so dumb.