Dolfan Radio | Week 2 Recap

Two Halves in Santa Clara

By Brad Michaels • September 21, 2026

Sit down a minute. I’ve loved this team since I was five in 1970, and I’ve stood in a room with Don Shula. I knew this rebuild was going to struggle — I wrote 4–13 before they even played a snap — but struggle is one thing. Playing a real first half on the road and then coming out after the break and giving the game away is another. No. I’m not nodding at that and calling it growth.

Final from Levi’s was San Francisco 35, Miami 13. I picked 27–13 on Friday. They covered it standing up, and I’m not hiding from my number. I’m also not throwing thirty good minutes in the trash because the next fifteen were a mess. That first half was a young team, up and coming, on the road against a club that had just beaten the Rams by 20. I felt that half. I’ve been waiting on one like it. Then they walked out for the third quarter and it was gone. Same roster. Same Sunday. I knew they’d struggle. I didn’t sign up to watch them stop being a football team for fifteen minutes. No.

The half I will keep

They got the ball first and we missed from 51. San Francisco went 59 yards in 12 plays and McCaffrey walked in from the 1, 7–0. That’s a good team doing what a good team does when you hand them a miss.

Then this rebuild showed me something I wanted to see. Seventeen plays, sixty-three yards, about nine minutes, Achane getting the ball the way he’s supposed to, Patterson from 28, 7–3. We did it again before the half — twelve plays, 58 yards — and Patterson from 24 as the clock died, 14–6. We outgained them in that half and held the ball 19 minutes to their 11. Willis didn’t throw it to them. Washington was the outlet. Third down was livable. If you love this team the way I’ve loved it since 1970, you felt that in your chest, and that’s allowed. Hope isn’t a crime. Finishing is the job. Two trips into the red zone, no touchdowns, six points. I said last week that was a warning. Today the warning came with a better defense on the other sideline, and we still didn’t punch it in.

I stopped the tape there in my head. I wanted the second half to prove the first one was the floor.

The half I will not excuse

San Francisco opened the third quarter with four plays, 65 yards, and George Kittle from 12, and just like that it was 21–6. We went three-and-out. Purdy drove 71 yards in eight plays and found Kyle Juszczyk from six, 28–6. Then a punt went wrong, they started on our side of the field, and two plays later McCaffrey walked in from the 1 again. 35–6. That was the third quarter, 21–0. After halftime this offense ran 18 plays for 5 yards. I’ve seen bad halves. I’ve seen young teams get tired. This wasn’t tired. This was a team that had just shown me it could play, then came out of the locker room and stopped. I’m not calling that a lesson, and I’m not calling it the process. I knew the year would be hard. This half was beneath the thirty minutes that came before it. No.

I’ve stood in a room with the Coach. He was a devout Catholic and he still swore when the standard slipped. A rookie in 1976 finished a defensive drill, pulled his helmet off, and reached for water, and Shula walked over. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You don’t take your helmet off, you don’t kneel, and there’s no water until practice is over.” That was the religion — not the chapel, the work. The men who played for Shula hated him that afternoon and loved him later, and that’s why the story still matters. Not because I want 1976 back. Because the ones who were there will tell you the standard was the thing that lasted.

That story is 1976, and the rules aren’t the same. Shula ran two-a-days in the heat, and a lot of the league withheld water until the whistle. After Korey Stringer died in 2001 the league changed how it treats a man’s body. The CBA now puts water on the field, limits padded days, and makes the second session a walkthrough with no helmets. A coach who told a rookie there was no water until practice ended would have the union in the building before dinner, and that’s good. I’m not asking Hafley to coach like 1976. I’m not asking anyone to faint in August.

I am asking for the part that didn’t expire. You don’t quit the work in the middle of the day. Sunday after halftime was taking the helmet off. The first half had been the work. The second half was supposed to be the same day. They reached for the water under rules that already give them the water. That’s the part I won’t excuse.

That’s where I look at Jeff Hafley. Year 1. I’m not calling for a job. I’m calling the half. A staff gets fifteen minutes at the break to keep a team that just played football from turning into a team that stops, and whatever was said in that room did not come back onto the field with them. That isn’t a rookie safety guessing. That’s a team that left the first half in the locker room, and the man who runs the room is the head coach.

Chop Robinson didn’t play. Concussion. Hafley stamped it Friday in Napa, so he wasn’t on the field and he doesn’t get credit or blame for a snap. The plan without him had to be on the card before kickoff, and if the card was hope, it wasn’t a card. The men who rushed Purdy were Uche, Herring, and Beal, and they never got him down. Purdy went 20-of-22 for 287, threw for two scores, and ran one in himself. We took four sacks. They took none. Red zone was San Francisco 5-for-5 and Miami 0-for-2. Our offensive line had to block San Francisco’s Nick Bosa all afternoon and didn’t hold him long enough. You can talk scheme until the lights go out at Hard Rock. Those numbers are the game.

I’m not softening that because I like these kids, and I’m not softening it because Hafley is new. Liking them is the point. New isn’t a shield. You’re hardest on the ones you intend to keep. In the style of the man I stood in a room with: it better get fixed. Not next month. This week. Kansas City is seven days away. There’s no water until it is.

What I will keep, and what I will not

I’ll keep Achane. Twenty carries, 74 yards, the engine of the half that was ours. I’ll keep Willis taking care of the football — 197 yards, a touchdown, no pick. I’ll keep Ryan Miller going 77 yards in the fourth, because a man who’s been here since he was five doesn’t pretend a touchdown didn’t happen just because the game was already decided. A late score doesn’t rewrite the third quarter. It also doesn’t go in the garbage.

I won’t keep the story that we almost stayed with them. We stayed with them until the break. Then we weren’t ready, and they scored on the first drive that mattered after halftime. Special teams missed from 51 and later gave them a short field. Our offensive line had to block San Francisco’s Nick Bosa all afternoon and didn’t hold him long enough. The men who rushed Purdy — not Chop, who was in street clothes — didn’t get him on the ground. The secondary that picked Cousins twice last week never knocked Purdy off his spot. He almost never missed. Their first five drives were touchdowns. Our second half was 18 plays and 5 yards. That’s the rebuild on a bad afternoon, with the lights on, and I’m not looking away from it.

Last week I wrote that a competitive loss in Santa Clara wouldn’t change the year, and a collapse would tell us Vegas was the ceiling. I’m angry tonight because I saw the first thing and then I saw the second thing in the same building. The first half was the team I want to take home. The third quarter was the team I’ve been afraid this rebuild still is — unready when the other fellow is whole, at home, and coming off a statement. I expected struggle. I didn’t expect them to play like that after they’d already shown me they knew how. Hard on that quarter. Still my team. That was the deal in 1970. I’m not lowering the standard because the year was supposed to be ugly anyway.

Leave what you saw in the comments. I’ll be here. Same chair. Same team.

Box as posted late Sunday: 35–13. Halftime 14–6. Third quarter 21–0 San Francisco. Miller’s 77-yard touchdown in the fourth. Friday pick was 49ers 27, Dolphins 13.