Anyone who read my bio during my time at The Sacramento Bee knows that my favorite player of all time is Darrell Green.

It’s not random. I grew up in a suburb outside of Washington, D.C., at a time when the Redskins were Super Bowl contenders and Green was the NFL’s fastest man, which are reasons enough for an undersized kid with an oversized sports addiction to fall in love with him.

But that only starts to explain my devotion. Darrell, you see, moved into the house across the street one day in 1985. Imagine the Pope moving next door to the most devoutly Catholic person you know; this is the impact Darrell’s arrival had in our Redskins-mad neighborhood.

Adding to the fanaticism: Darrell was cool. I mean, really cool.

He played pickup games with me and my buddies. We had a hoop in our driveway, the only one on the block, and Darrell — he had no kids then — would get in on games of H-O-R-S-E, two-on-two, around the world, whatever we were playing. He was one of the guys.

One winter, right in the middle of a Redskins playoff run, he came over to shoot around in the driveway and slipped — feet in the air, elbow against asphalt — on a patch of ice. He got up slowly but was OK. My dad later remarked that if his tumble had been more serious we would have had to move. He wasn’t joking.

Another time, a group of, oh, maybe 10 kids was playing football on the rough of a golf course behind Darrell’s house. We obviously were hoping he’d see us and join in. It was winter, the grass was dormant and we weren’t disturbing anyone. No one was golfing.

Pretty soon, however, two guys from the clubhouse came barreling over a hill in a cart, waving clubs and yelling at us to get the hell off the course. We scattered like deer.

As we were running away, Darrell came out of his back door and started moving — fast — in the opposite direction. He leaped his backyard fence like a high hurdler and confronted the men.

They probably were right; we shouldn’t have been playing football next to the 16th fairway. But the fact that Darrell Green — DARRELL FREAKIN’ GREEN! — defended a bunch of grade school boys as if he were our dad, well, that was worth 10,000 cool points and a lifelong endearment.

My intention with all this isn’t to name drop — did I mention that Darrell Green played basketball in my driveway? — but to explain why I do what I do today. NFL football got into my bloodstream early and, the conditions being what they were, started multiplying rapidly.

Which is to say: I understand. I understand the insatiable itch you have when it comes to the 49ers. I know how the very air you breathe tastes sweeter on Mondays after a win. I know that a pit formed in your stomach when Kyle Williams flubbed those punts. I know that while the pit may get smaller with time, it never will disappear and you will take it to the grave. Your loved ones may be vexed when, on your deathbed, you briefly gain consciousness and scream, “Kyle Williams!” But I will understand.

My job description at The Athletic will be a lot like it was at The Bee. I will moon over a Draft Crush in April, file a mailbag on Tuesdays (I will read the comments section for Qs) and analyze every training camp practice as if it were a conference championship game. I know you love nuts and bolts and third-string left guards and jersey number changes, and I plan to have a weekly item called Minutia Minute when the season begins.

But I also want to spend more time introducing you to the characters on the 49ers — your versions of Darrell Green — which is something The Athletic’s format and philosophy will allow me to do.

Eli Harold, for instance, has protested during the anthem the last two years. His in-laws are white and he hails from one of the biggest military areas in the nation. Think his life has been interesting of late?

Adrian Colbert’s childhood home in Texas is pockmarked with bullets, two of which hit his baby crib when he was in it. His drive and determination to succeed were on display last season when he went from maybe-he-makes-the-practice-squad-at-cornerback to starting NFL free safety. He has a fascinating background.

Jimmy Garoppolo could be on par with Steph Curry for most popular man in the Bay Area. But what do we really know about him other than he’s from Chicago and is really handsome? JimmyWatch ‘18 will be the most intriguing storyline of them all.

As for me, here are some bio bullet points to get you acquainted:

— I’ve never used a port-a-potty in my life. This brings me immense pride.

— I’ve never taken a sick day. (I consider items 1 and 2 related).

— I feel I’m one of the last people on earth with a landline. Those who appreciate this most are Gary Radnich and my mom, neither of whom have any patience for garbled phone calls.

— I own a boat. OK, it’s a kayak.

— Darrell Green once played basketball in my driveway.

(Top photo: Pablo Martinez Monsivais/AP)