The San Francisco 49ers spent roster cutdown day and the 24 hours that followed engaging in their favorite annual tradition: “outsmarting” everyone in the league, including themselves.

Kyle Shanahan and John Lynch looked at an offensive line with all the structural integrity of a crumbling Pacifica sea wall, stared down a schedule featuring three of the nastiest defensive fronts in football over the first five weeks, and collectively muttered, “Nah, it’ll be fine.”

Wishful thinking isn’t a strategy. But in Santa Clara, Calif., it’s become standard operating procedure.

Instead of building actual, functional depth, the Niners burned finite energy, cap space and roster spots doing gymnastics to protect developmental projects and flat-out dead weight. They tossed away viable depth pieces, orchestrated a few truly bizarre IR maneuvers, slapped some polish on the whole mess, and called it progress.

Look, this roster still has championship-level juice at the top. Nobody is denying that. But the margin for error isn’t just thin — it’s practically non-existent.

Let’s start with left guard.

Shanahan told everyone with a straight face on Monday that the team still hasn’t picked a starter at the position.

Yeah, Kyle. We noticed.

Shanahan hasn’t made a decision because nobody has won the job. No, instead the many contestants spent the summer passing the gig around like a live grenade, losing the top spot on the depth chart in increasingly comical fashion.

Rookie Carver Willis is the default leader in the clubhouse solely because he has zero NFL tape to his name. No track record means no expectations, which means plausible deniability when things go sideways.

Things got so bleak inside that the front office shipped off a 2027 seventh-rounder for Jarrett Patterson — an interior lineman the Houston Texans, owners of a perpetually maligned offensive front, could not wait to push out the door.

And the punchline? Patterson might genuinely be an upgrade here. Good move? Sure, on paper. But what does it say about your roster construction when one team’s castoff is your potential savior?

The same brand of Santa Clara logic infected the bottom of the wide receiver room. Jacob Cowing secured a 53-man gig on the back of one splashy preseason punt return. Jordan Watkins made it strictly on draft pedigree. Are there unquestionably better options floating around as free agents? Of course. But Cowing and Watkins are “their guys.” We’ll see how far that takes them.

Then came the real cap gymnastics. The Niners couldn’t bring themselves to cut bait on tackle Enrique Cruz or linebacker Nick Martin. Keeping both meant cash and roster flexibility, prompting the release of long snapper Jon Weeks — fresh off a $1.2 million guarantee — only to shuffle him back to the practice squad for weekly elevation duty.

Cruz — rotation tackle in college — spent August proving that pass protection is entirely optional, while Martin has offered virtually nothing from scrimmage or on special teams in two seasons.

Why bother? I suppose admitting you messed up some draft picks hurts front-office pride more than entering Week 1 shorthanded. It’s the sunk cost fallacy manifest, though the Niners spin it as keeping long-term projects in the building.

Meanwhile, useful depth walked out the door for free. Bryson Eason — a nice undrafted free agent pickup at defensive tackle — is now a Chief, cornerback Darrell Luter (who was No. 2 on the boundary-side depth chart just a week ago) was a priority waiver pickup for the Raiders, and free agent receiver Greg Dortch — a plug-and-play slot and punt returner upgrade — landed in Buffalo.

Shanahan designs offenses with the precision of a master watchmaker, sketching out intricate blueprints that can predict the unpredictable.

But when it comes to the violent, blunt-force reality of trench play, he keeps trying to duct-tape an engine block together and hoping Brock Purdy’s legs can bail out the design flaws.

Was nothing learned from last year’s NFC Playoffs?

Was nothing learned before that, when the Niners had to sign and start players off the street throughout the regular season, lest they play some of those “projects” they stubbornly keep around?

If Christian McCaffrey, Nick Bosa, George Kittle and the other top-tier veterans play 17 games, the Niners can hide a lot of sins.

But when the injuries hit — and in San Francisco, they always hit — you can’t scheme your way out of a turnstile offensive line.

There’s nothing abstract about the pocket collapsing in two seconds flat.

And when that happens, fancy roster tricks won’t save the Niners.

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