Jets Aren't Loveable; They're Just Losers -- Period

By The Lantern

It started out as a humorous release, one man's fun take on losing and the New York Jets. But now, it has morphed into something else entirely. It's "Jet Therapy" and in Part II the feelings go from kind-hearted jokes to full-out anger:

"The mind is a strange thing, men. We must begin by asking it ... What is losing? Losing is a disease … as contagious as polio. Losing is a disease … as contagious as syphilis. Losing is a disease … as contagious as bubonic plague … attacking one ... but infecting all.

"But curable!

"Now, I want you to imagine you are on a ship at sea ... on a vast … gently rocking … gently rocking … gently rocking … gently rocking. …" -- The Natural, 1984

When last we left the fictitious shrink's office, I was laying on a couch talking about all the past Jets disasters and how they had impacted my life. For the reader's purpose, I tried to have fun with that column, tried to inject some humor into the fact that the Jets have been the bane of my professional sports existence for the last 30 years. I figured it would be beneficial for me to discuss all the crimes that have been committed and all the hopes hijacked, and to reflect on the many out there I have shared this common bond with over the years.

At that time, following the Jets' brutal home loss to Buffalo, the writing did help me deal. But now I'm not just in a bad place where no matter how much I write I about the Jets it's not going to make things better. I no longer find any humor in their past follies, "Island of Misfit Toys" references or constant witty-bordering-on-whining rants on Twitter. I take no solace in making jokes or sounding wise in my assessments.

The truth is, I'm sad. I'm used up. Now is not the time to joke around because clearly I've thrown away all the goodwill I have. I don't like how I feel.

I went to see "Avatar" in digital 3-D on Sunday night and even though that movie far surpassed my expectations, I left the theatre still thinking about the Jets' 10-7 loss to Atlanta that basically put the final nail in their playoff coffin and once again turned the page to next season.

And unlike past years where the hope of getting back to the drawing board gave me something to look forward to, this time I don't feel any optimism. I'm not even remotely convinced that this franchise will ever be more than a bad joke just waiting to be told. The draft, free agency, a new stadium, all those things don't mean a damn thing to me.

Because the Jets will never, ever become what I, and the thousands like me, want them to become. In my opinion, their Super Bowl drought has now surpassed the Red Sox's sorry 1918 chapter. I am of the belief that 40 years without a championship in football is a far greater crime than 86 years without one in baseball because when 16 games make or break a team, it's a far cry from 162. There's simply no margin for error in the NFL and in the case of the Jets, there's also no margin for anything short of perfection.

So I'm not going to sit here and make jokes about the Jets. I mean, why should I? They've all been told. "Same Old Jets" and "Just End The Season" references used to be the fan base's way of latching on to some sanity, a way for all of us to band together and understand each other. It was like we were all part of a club whose bond only strengthened with each passing gut-wrenching loss or season that went awry.

But I don't want to be part of that exclusive club anymore. Sometimes I think it takes more energy and creativity to fight the good fight than it is actually worth. So what I'm going to do going forward is go rogue, be a lone wolf. I'm going to make it my mission to ignore the Jets when they do something "positive" and pay more attention to what they don't do because they don't deserve to be lauded for anything. They are a bunch of used car salesmen, promising you this and then selling you that.

And enough already with this nonsensical notion that the Jets are cursed. Joe Namath did not sell his soul to the devil to get the team the Super Bowl III championship. That's just a convenient way for fans to overlook the truth, which is both painful and painfully obvious:

The Jets franchise from top to bottom is filled with one loser after another. No matter how many different players, coaches and executives are brought aboard, they immediately become losers. Now when I say "loser" I don't mean it in the way the term is often used in American society. These people were once fine men. They do have good intentions and are willing to work to a degree for their pay.

These people are losers because they don't have the wherewithal to ever be winners. They don't come together collectively for a common cause. Something always breaks down and it all feels shockingly familiar regardless of the year or personnel involved.

I mean, how crazy is it that a team can lose in the fashion it did Sunday every year, sometimes several times in the same manner in one season? It just defies logic that one team could repeat history as often as this one does. And the worst part is, every true fan knows the loss is coming and precisely how it will all go down.

Take Sunday's defeat to the Falcons for example. It was just another example of a team desperately needing a win playing down to a lesser opponent and not executing. The fans on Twitter and in the stands at that awful stadium saw it unraveling exactly as they predicted it would.

Just because Jay Feely didn't make three field goal attempts doesn't make him unique. It makes him a clone of someone like Cary Blanchard. Just because Mark Sanchez threw three interceptions it doesn't make him any different from a guy like Boomer Esiason or Richard Todd. They both did their part in similar losses when they played. Brian Schottenheimer's play-calling is the same as countless to wear a headset before him. Rex Ryan's clueless demeanor on the sideline looked an awful lot like the downtrodden look of his predecessors.

It's quite shocking really if you think about how lightning tends to strike the same team several times a year. Most teams that are expected to be good have one game like Sunday per season at most. The Jets seemingly have three or four per season and they always end up destroying what looks like a rosy playoff scenario.

There's not a Jets fan alive who didn't think the Falcons weren't scoring on that last drive. Even when it got to fourth down inside the 10, you knew. You just knew.

Does anyone actually have faith that Sanchez will grow into his job? I don't, and it's not because Sanchez isn't talented. It's because some joker, who replaced a previous joker, in the Jets front office decided to trade up for him in the draft. See, Sanchez was pure before he came here. On any other team he'd be making strides toward greatness. But because the no-winning-football-IQ Jets drafted him his career will likely never become what it could have been.

What the Jets are and have always been are thieves. They steal your hopes every football weekend with impunity. This franchise has stolen from the fans forever. Think about it: The organization has taken your money – whether it is in the form of tickets, jerseys, hats, parking, concessions or now personal seat licenses – for 40 years and have offered you no return on the investment. Twelve playoff appearances in four decades, or whatever it is, is not a good use of your money.

Why do it anymore? Just to say you go to NFL games?

Is it because you have money to burn?

Because that's exactly what you're doing, lighting your hard-earned money on fire and watching it blow away for 16 agonizing weeks, culminating with the final ashes taking flight in the cold December wind.

Follow The Lantern on Twitter @GreenLanternJet