A picture speaks a thousand words. Never did this statement ring truer in my life than when my nine-year-old self was wandering around the house on a Sunday afternoon in early 1982. Because of the celebratory whooping, my wanderings drew me into the family room where my three older brothers and older sister were huddled around the TV. As I drew closer, I saw an image on the screen that froze me in place. At the tender age of nine, I suddenly understood the term “total hunk.” I was looking at a man in a red football uniform, shoulder pads and all, helmet off, being interviewed. He had blond hair (curling a bit around his ears from sweat), striking blue eyes and an almost blindingly-gleaming smile. “Who is that?” I asked my sister, pointing at the screen. “That,” she said, “is Joe Montana.” And so it began. Seeing the 49ers’ starting quarterback being interviews post their victory over the Bengals in Super Bowl XVI, started my love affair with quarterbacks. Of course I realize now that is rather cliché, but at nine years old, I only knew beauty. After Montana betrayed us all and went the Chiefs, I had little…