It was supposed to be a victory lap year in Santa Clara. The kind where Brock Purdy strolls into Levi’s with a fresh deal, George Kittle grins through media day in retro shades, and Kyle Shanahan sips coffee like a man whose blueprint finally paid off. But instead? The 49ers‘ offseason feels like someone hit shuffle on the front office’s playlist—and it landed on ‘Panic Mode.’ Because while most teams are using April to build, the Niners are stalling—right in the middle of two franchise-altering negotiations.

As the financial clock ticks louder in the Bay, the two names at the center of the storm aren’t rookies or role players. They’re the heart and the hinge of San Francisco’s entire identity. ‘You Either Die a Hero, or You Live Long Enough to Become the Villain of Your Own Cap Space Crunch.’ Let’s set the scene: It’s 2025, and the San Francisco 49ers are stuck in a Moneyball meets Succession drama. The team’s front office? Let’s just say they’re fumbling the bag harder than a rookie CB trying to cover Tyreek Hill on a go route.

Enter Kyle Shanahan’s squad, fresh off a 6-11 season (their worst since 2020) and sitting on $38M in cap space like it’s a golden throne they’re too scared to let go of. But the real plot twist? Their two franchise cornerstones—Purdy and Kittle—are stuck in contract limbo, and the Niners have no one to blame but themselves. Matt Maiocco, NBC Sports Bay Area’s resident 49ers whisperer, dropped a truth bomb hotter than a sideline tablet after a bad call: “This is just the way they operate. They haven’t been proactive… They’ve already done themselves a disservice with Kittle’s deal.”

Let’s break it down. Back in March, John Lynch waxed poetic about keeping Kittle a “Niner for life.” But fast-forward to today, and the All-Pro tight end’s $15M/year deal looks as outdated as flip phones in a TikTok era. Trey McBride just reset the TE market at $19M/year, and Kittle—a human highlight reel with six Pro Bowls and a 1,377-yard season—is eyeing $20M+.

The Niners had their shot to lock him down early. Instead, they pulled a Seinfeld “yada yada” negotiation strategy—skipped the meaty details and now face a price hike. Kittle’s not just a player; he’s the team’s soul. Imagine Ted Lasso without Roy Kent’s growls—that’s the Niners without Kittle’s YAC (yards after catch) chaos.

Purdy’s Payday: From Mr. Irrelevant to QB1 (who’s about to get PAID)

Meanwhile, Brock Purdy—the $3.7M bargain-bin QB turned 26-14 starter—is giving the Niners front office more stress than The Bear’s kitchen during a dinner rush. Purdy’s camp isn’t budging on his value, and per Maiocco: “The offer the 49ers have made isn’t one that Brock’s side is inclined to take… Nor will they.” Translation? Purdy’s betting on himself like Shark Tank’s Mr. Wonderful, with projections pegging him at $50M-$55M/year.

But here’s the kicker: Purdy and Kittle aren’t just teammates; they’re ride-or-die bromance goals. Remember when Kittle pranked Purdy’s locker with an Iowa Hawkeyes shirt (Purdy’s Iowa State rival)? Or their Cabo vacay with the squad, sipping margs and plotting comebacks? Their chemistry isn’t just cute—it’s Chef’s Table-level artistry. As Kittle once said, “Brock’s the guy who makes you want to run through a wall… then throw confetti when you’re done.”

The Niners’ front office is stuck in a Groundhog Day loop. They’ve got $38M to play with but are sweating every penny like Scrooge McDuck. Let’s get poetic: Picture a sunset over Levi’s Stadium, the shadow of their Super Bowl dreams stretching long as Purdy’s agent texts, ‘LOL, counteroffer?’ and Kittle’s camp drops a 🤑 emoji.

Shanahan’s playbook? “Trust the process.” But even he’s gotta be muttering, ‘Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool’ à la Brooklyn Nine-Nine’s Jake Peralta during a meltdown. The coach has called Purdy “our guy” and praised his “dime right in the corner” throws to Kittle. But love don’t pay the bills, Kyle. This isn’t just about contracts—it’s legacy. Kittle’s 7,380 career yards and Purdy’s 104.9 passer rating aren’t stats; they’re love letters to the Faithful.

The Niners’ front office needs to channel Hamilton’s urgency: “I’m not throwin’ away my shot.” Pay the men, or risk becoming the NFL’s version of Michael Scott declaring bankruptcy—loud, messy, and wildly ineffective. As the clock ticks, remember: In football, as in The West Wing, “Decisions are made by those who show up.” The Niners better show up with a Brinks truck before their stars write a sequel—Gone in 60 Millions.