I'd Rather Get Beat Up In An Alley

Just when I thought silver linings were a thing of the past, the Jets/Dolphins game came rumbling into my post-Halloween doldrums and refreshed my supply.  Usually after we blow a game I’m an extremely grumpy individual for about a week.  This time I can’t help but feel good about Sunday’s loss.

Did I really just say that?

Think about it. We’ve covered all the bases as far as ways-for-a-talented-team-to-lose go.  This is not in chronological order: Round 1 against Miami -  we lost because our defense couldn’t stop a stiff breeze;  Buffalo – Sanchez found out he can’t throw against the aforementioned breeze, rendering our offense useless; The Saints game -  the expected growing pains finally showed up , once again rendering our offense useless.  Now, in round 2 with the Fish, our offense looked unstoppable, our defense relentlessly pursued the ball, and it was obvious which team had more talent.  Well, obvious as long as you weren’t checking the scoreboard.  The Jets had one more trick up their sleeve… a complete special teams collapse.   Surely, if we give up back to back touchdowns to Ted Stonehand Ginn, Jr. then there’s no way we we can win right?  No one expected Westhoff’s Jedi kick return unit to suck harder than those tranny-hookers on the Westside Highway but they sure did.

Speaking of hookers… is this that Wonder Twin whore trying to jump on the future of football in America?  Unbelievable.

Last time I checked there were 3 phases to a football game.   Each phase has independently lost a game all on its own with no help from the other two.  Was that not redundant enough for you?  Each unit has picked a day to stink so badly that even though the other two are playing like a well-oiled machine, we lose.  Heart-wrenching losses at that.  Except for Sunday…. ahhh the silver lining.   We’ve finally done it.  We’ve run out of ways to lose.  It must be true because normally I’d be moping around all week cursing out Yankees fans.  Instead, I’m calmly enjoying the World Series at my bar.  It’s been great, actually.  If A-rod can somehow go from Mr. Anti-Clutch to oh-my-God-he’s-killing-these-guys, if he-who-swings-a-bat-while-wearing-lipstick can rewrite his long legacy of leaving people on base in a single month, then there’s gotta be hope for these New York Football Jets to win 6 of the next 8. This will make me very very happy.  And a teensy weensy bit of a Yankees fan.

The entire stadium seemed to be hung over Sunday- not just our special teams unit.  These folks on the left slept straight through the 2nd quarter, halftime, the 3rd quarter, a bunch of paper airplanes thrown at them, a nacho cheese bowl/hat, and about 200 taunts from all of us sitting around them.

This dude on the right?  He’s the Dolphins fan I threw chips on when Sanchez ran that bootleg in for a touchdown.Yup- the fish won.  You’re still a douche.

Enough about the stupid hot dog already.  The dude was nervous as hell before last weeks game.  Geeze, I was queasy for him and couldn’t eat myself.  Instead, I started guzzling Bloody Marys in a vain attempt to fool my body into thinking I’d eaten something (by the way, best bloody I’ve had in years).  Once the Jets went up 31 points in the 3rd quarter though, I’m sure Sanchez’ nervous stomach turned ravenous (mine did).  Road kill woulda’ looked good to him.  Think about it, he probably hadn’t eaten well all week following his performance against Buffalo.  That hot dog tasted better than any high dollar meal USC ever used to woo the young QB.  ESPN is still showing the video footage of Sanchez chowing down.  WTF?  Would they rather an iv?  What about the historic blowout Sanchez captained?  Listen ESPN, the only thing that makes a 38 point victory taste any better is a little mustard.  I only hope the kid reaches for some pulled pork after Miami rolls into town Sunday.

The Miami Dolphins… blech… the only thing they have in common with the New York Jets is the East Coast.  I’m still losing sleep over the way the Fish ran all over us in week 5.  Channing Crowder’s boasts came true.  Bart Scott’s? Rex Ryan’s? not so much.  Bright orange jerseys and all, the Dolphins handed us our collective asses in a big fish bowl filled with Marc Anthony’s old jewelry… mostly gaudy pinkie rings.

To say that I’m looking forward to Sunday is an understatement.  I’ll be there in my seats, about a mile or so above the action, sandwiched between two old school grumpy pessimistic Jets fans yelling my post-Halloween-hungover-ass off.    That’s the dynamic it seems these days.  There are the fans that hope we’re on the verge of a dynasty and there are the fans that know we’re going to lose, the ones I call the Abused Puppies.  I’m sure you’ve experienced it yourselves…  “Same old Jets.  I told ya.  I’m burning all my Jersey’s for good this time I mean  it.  We stink.  We’re cursed!”  Blah blah blah…It’s like they’re almost rooting for their own team to lose.  Did they forget we drafted a rookie quarterback?  Did they forget we beat the Pats a few weeks ago?  What about the still very attainable 11-5 record, or the 12-4?

We here at Jets Juju are firm believers in Mojo.  Maybe losing some pessimistic doomsayers wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

I dunno if you caught the new South Park but the folks over at the Jets Blog posted it today and I laughed my ass off.  For Mojo’s sake you should Check it out.

Will I ever get sick of watching Leon lay out Channing Crowder? 

Nope… LETS GO JETS!!!