The 49ers and their gold-clad legion of minions look at Sunday's NFC championship, and vomit forms in their mouths with foaming hate for what they see.
They wish that eccentric head coach -- the one always racing for joy down the sideline like this is still college ball, or going ape on the officials for penalties and non-penalties alike -- would plunge smirk-first off the nearest mezzanine level of CenturyLink Field.
"There's no question, there's a lot of hostility between us," 49ers linebacker Patrick Willis said.
They want that trash-talking defensive back -- the one who always has to say something at the end of the most ordinary of plays -- would take a long swig from the cup o' glass shards.
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They wish that beast of a running back -- the one who says it all in the end zone by saying nothing at all -- would go run into a propeller.
"There's not going to be any like at all there," Willis said.
And, man alive, what they would give for that happy-feet quarterback -- the one who wasn't drafted in the first round and reminds teams all the live-long day of how bad they whiffed -- would get creative and go dislocate his marrow at the bottom of an elevator shaft.
"There really is a dislike," 49ers receiver Anquan Boldin said.
But, here's the deal: If 49ers and all their No. 1 fans hate the Seahawks for who they are, and how they are, and all they stand for, then that can only mean one thing.
The 49ers hate themselves.
Because the 49ers are the Seahawks, who are the 49ers, who are the Seahawks. When the 49ers wake up Sunday morning and check their tongue in the hotel mirror, they are seeing a spitting image of the Seattle Seahawks.
Seahawks coach Pete Carroll is nothing more than a fun-sized version of 49ers coach Jim Harbaugh. Carroll is what Harbaugh would be if Harbaugh ever cared to schmooze. When it comes to sideline passion and football coaching and penalty whining, they are one and the same.
That's their deal, in case Carroll is still wondering.
Want to despise Seahawks cornerback Richard Sherman, and his incessant yapping?
Then you may want to plug your ears when Boldin makes a downfield catch -- or when 49ers safety Donte Whitner knocks off a helmet. Three voices, one sound.
To hold disdain for Seahawks running back Marshawn Lynch, and his silent but violent course of stiff-armed action, is to not appreciate he is the dreadlocked version of 49ers running back Frank Gore. Consider them separated at birth.
If you want to dismiss the work of Seahawks quarterback Russell Wilson, you must equally recognize that 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick, too, has dropped in production this season. Because, remember, Wilson was as hurt by Percy Harvin's absence as Kaepernick was by Michael Crabtree's absence.
So, if the 49ers want to hate the Seahawks for hate's sake, then have at it. Just don't be fooled into thinking you are any different than them, because you're not.
Both teams win with a football-possessed head coach. Both teams win with a ferocious pass rush and violent secondary. Both teams win with a power run game and play-action passing.
Both teams win with quarterbacks who prefer to pass, not run, but watch out, because they run.
Here's one more thing the 49ers and Seahawks have in common the past two years: The home team always wins when these two NFC West classmates come out to play. And the 49ers know it.
Maybe that's why they hate what they're about to see in Seattle.