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Halftime on Monday night was no time to fix a sandwich. You stayed put to get one last look at No. 16. Never again will we see that number on the back of a 49ers player. That is right and proper, because never again will we see a player quite like Joe Montana. . . . He wasn’t a No. 1 draft pick. Montana was drafted in the third round. He wasn’t a big-city guy; he was from small-town Pennsylvania. He was handsome, but not perfectly so. He was smart, but not too smart. He was about as comfortable in the spotlight as you or I would be. But he was cool, and cool is a quality that is universally admired. Not cool in the sense of what he wore, what he said, the music he liked; not kid-cool. But real cool, genuine cool. His coolness under fire, when the chips were down, when it mattered most–the kind of cool we all wish we had.