Brant Boyer wants to build a new era — and better aura — for 49ers' special teams

New York Times

5 hours ago

SANTA CLARA, Calif. — What allowed Brant Boyer, the San Francisco 49ers' new special teams coordinator, to play 10 seasons in the NFL? He must have been fast, right?
'No, not at all,' Boyer says with a chuckle.
Was he smart?
'I don't know. You'll have to ask other people.'
Did he have a prototypical physique?
Advertisement
'I was a real late bloomer.'
What about feistiness?
Ah, now we're starting to get somewhere.
His first college coach, Paul Tidwell, remembers Boyer arriving at Snow Junior College in Ephraim, Utah, as a 180-pound walk-on linebacker with no college offers and no fanfare.
He also had no fear of the team's upperclassmen.
'It seemed like every week I was breaking up some kind of scuffle that he was involved in,' Tidwell said in a phone interview. 'He was playing scout team and our starters were going against him. He wanted to prove that he could play at that level. That's just the kind of guy he was. He wouldn't back down from anybody.'
The 49ers have been lacking that type of intensity on their special teams for years. While the offense and defense have been excellent at times under head coach Kyle Shanahan, the special teams has languished at the bottom half of the NFL the last five seasons, with last year's mistake-prone unit ranking 31st in DVOA.
Kicker Jake Moody missed nine field goals over the last nine games in 2024. The kick coverage has been a sieve for the past four years. And no team has gone longer without a punt-return touchdown. The last 49er with one of those was Ted Ginn Jr., who scored on a 55-yard return in Jim Harbaugh's first game as head coach in 2011.
Many point to the 49ers' 'don't-mess-it-up' philosophy under Shanahan. He's said he doesn't want the special teams causing game-altering blunders, and the units have become risk-averse, and perhaps uninspiring, as a result.
That's not Boyer's nature. He wants big plays. He wants special teams to make a difference. He wants competition at just about every spot he oversees. And, perhaps signaling a shift in attitude, Shanahan and the 49ers have given their new coordinator license to rebuild the unit as he sees fit.
Boyer, 53, brought in coverage specialists like Luke Gifford, Siran Neal, Chazz Surratt and Jason Pinnock in free agency with Surratt and Pinnock having played for him with the New York Jets. He said goodbye to punter Mitch Wishnowsky and long snapper Taybor Pepper, replacing them with Thomas Morstead — another ex-Jet — and Jon Weeks, respectively.
Advertisement
He added a veteran kicker, Greg Joseph, to compete with Moody. And he even was allowed to choose a draft pick, seventh-rounder Junior Bergen, who excelled on returns at Montana. Bergen, Jacob Cowing and rookie Jordan Watkins handled punts this spring, and Ricky Pearsall (hamstring) likely will be added to the mix next month when he's healthy.
'We're trying to put them in the best spots so we can succeed and be a weapon for this team, not just a, 'Hey, man, just don't screw this up,'' Boyer said of his returners. 'That's not what we're here for. We're here to try to make a difference.'
Boyer credits his grandfather, a former Marine who fought at Iwo Jima, for the grit he showed that first season at Snow College. Boyer had a difficult childhood and his grandparents took him in at their farm located in a small town in northeast Utah.
How small? There were no stoplights and only 42 kids in Boyer's high school graduating class.
'He would tell me that his grandparents lived out in the country and his grandfather was an old-school kind of guy: 'Yeah, you can play football, but you're also going to do your chores and you're gonna do your work and you're gonna keep your nose clean,'' Tidwell said. 'So his grandpa was hard on him in a good way. And I think it helped develop Brant.'
Boyer did his share of farm work and also took on odd jobs around town — jackhammer operator, cement crewman, trainer of hunting dogs. And then there were the endless rows of hay bales that needed hauling.
The work toughened the teenager, but he still wasn't all that imposing upon graduation. He stood 5-foot-10 and debated whether to become an Air Force pilot or try to play football. His high school coach had a strong opinion on which route he should choose.
'He'd told (Boyer) that he's too small, nobody's recruiting you and you should just go on and get your education and not play football anymore,' Tidwell said. 'Knowing Brant now, that comment from his high school coach fired him up, made him say, 'Look, I can play. And I'm gonna show you I can play.''
Advertisement
Boyer took it out on Snow's offensive starters during his walk-on season.
'I kind of saw something then,' Tidwell recalled. 'I knew if the other players were getting upset with him, it meant he was playing hard and was beating them or making them look bad. Then his aggressive play spilled over to the team.'
A year later — and following a growth spurt — he was a starter and team captain, and a year and a half after that he transferred to Arizona where the process repeated itself. Early on he got into a scrap when an older player cut in and tried to steal some of Boyer's practice repetitions.
As was the case at Snow, the pugnacious Boyer grabbed the attention of the Arizona coaches, and he soon was starting in the middle of the school's famed 'Desert Swarm' defenses of the early 1990s. In 1994, the Miami Dolphins drafted him in the sixth round and he spent the next decade as a core special teams player in Miami, Jacksonville and Cleveland.
In 2009, he got into coaching as a training camp intern with the Browns. And for the past nine seasons, he's been the Jets special teams coordinator, which means he survived several head-coaching changes while in New York.
'I think that's a real compliment and tribute to him and the type of coach that he is,' Tidwell said. 'I think he's fair and tough and loves his players and they love him.'
The 49ers' special teams sessions had a different, more intense aura this spring. For one thing, Boyer is one of the few NFL coaches who still uses a whistle, which he blasts to gather or organize his players.
Loud music, meanwhile, is a hallmark of Shanahan's practices. He likes the energy it provides and wants his players accustomed to noisy environments. During an OTA session earlier this month, however, Boyer turned the volume down when the special teams were on the field.
Advertisement
'They're learning a whole new system,' he said. 'So I think it's critical for the team communication and everything to be on point. Once we get that communication and everyone talking to each other and being on the same page, I have no problem with the music being on.'
Surratt, who had 10 special teams tackles for the Jets last year, said Boyer's a stickler for crisp communication. After all, no two returns or coverage plays are exactly alike and players must be able to adjust on the fly.
'I'd compare it to playing basketball,' Surratt said. 'They talk all the time during a play. We're going full speed but at the same time we have to know who's beside you, to the right of you, who's doing what. I think communication during a play is a big thing, and the really good units are able to do that.'
Mostly, Boyer said, he wants to instill pride among the 49ers' special teamers.
'I'm here to do the best job I can, create a culture that it shouldn't be, like, punishment to play special teams,' he said. 'And I think teams around the league, (it) comes out like, 'Oh man, I don't want to play special teams.' It shouldn't be like that. That's how I made a living. That's how a lot of people make a living in this league. And if you can create a culture that the guys know you give a damn about them, they're going to play for you.'