"My working hypothesis is that Jim Harbaugh is 11 years old. Sure, he's been on Earth almost half a century, but deep inside he is 11.

This is no putdown of Harbaugh. I am extremely fond of 11-year-olds. I myself reached my peak at 11 and it's been downhill ever since.

On Monday, Harbaugh held his season wrap-up news conference and it was revealing in ways Harbaugh probably doesn't understand. Near the end of the session, the Chronicle's Eric Branch, who used to work for The Press Democrat, asked an easy-to-answer human-interest question.

"How did you spend your time after the game? What did you do last night?"

Harbaugh shot Branch a look as if Branch had asked about Harbaugh's sex life. Harbaugh giggled nervously.

"I was a ..." He giggled again. "Is this California?" he demanded. "Where everybody just wants to know how you feel, what you thought, how you did, how your pinky feels?"

The pinky reference was a direct shot at me. I was the pinky asker. Harbaugh stood there, his jaw rigid.

"You're part Californian," I reminded him.

Harbaugh still didn't answer.

"We want to hear an answer to the question," I told Harbaugh.

"You demand an answer to the question?" he said.

I imagined the prepubescent buzz in the voice of an 11-year-old as he blew off his mommy.

"You're not the boss of me. I don't have to tell you if I don't want to.""