Thirteen ticks left on the clock, sixty yards of synthetic turf between Jake Moody and vindication: the snap, the hold, and the swing, a symphony of pressure condensed into one fluid motion. The ball sailed, a tight spiral cutting through the Vegas air, clearing the crossbar with room to spare. Fifty-nine yards. Game over. Niners win, 22-19. As teammates mobbed Moody, somewhere in the press box, or maybe back home staring at his own hasty words on a screen, 49ers reporter Chase Senior was preparing a very specific, very humble meal: his own words, served with a generous side of crow.

Senior, to his credit, became the story’s most compelling footnote. His post-game “winners” list led with the kicker he’d just buried: “Jake Moody: way to shut me up, respond to adversity and drill c

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