That’s what you’re in for, kid. So get ready.
In case you’re a stowaway that just got off a fishing boat from China, Monday night’s disaster against the Titans summed up everything you need to know about the New York Jets organization. Bad personnel decisions: check. Horrible play-calling: check. Terrible skill position players playing pivotal roles: check. A ridiculous turnover to end the game: check. A weak/stupid/wasted offseason coming back to haunt them when they have nowhere else to turn: fucking check. The 2012 Jets didn’t even deserve to have their name associated with the word ‘playoffs’. In fact, they shouldn’t even have their name associated with ‘Garbage Factory’ because I assume that at the Garbage Factory there are functioning employees who don’t fumble the fucking the ball every five seconds and throw dump passes 900 feet over the garbage factory foreman’s head. But the team got what they deserved – a swift painful end to a painful season, realigning themselves with the NFL’s obsolete.
Sure, I know that there are plenty of terrible NFL
franchises around that have technically suffered far worse than Gang Green. The Browns? Sorry, I’d
rather live in Kabul than Cleveland. The Bills? If my team had lost four straight
Super Bowls, I would have become a monk and lived in exile for eternity.
But the Jets are a special blend of shittiness. An exotic, Turkish blend, if you may. Because unlike teams who face geographical and media-market hurdles, the Jets were gifted with one of the biggest media markets on the planet. They have the location, the fan base, and the revenue stream to potentially recruit the sport’s top football minds, unlike some franchises that have to convince a potential GM that his family will just LOVE Tampa in August and that the six-pound Palmetto bugs are adorable. Forget the vapidity of the West Coast or the salt-of-the-Earth atmosphere in the Midwest--New York has the ability to humble even the most egotistical of egos. On top of that, New York has culture and arts and events shooting out of its asshole, a never ending stream of stuff to do for even the most bored families. Also, kids who attend school in Manhattan probably leave fifth grade with better educations than 75% of the rest of the country’s high school graduates. I wish that I was kidding, but when Kate Hudson or Jennifer Garner shells out $100K a year to whichever Charter School little Applesauce is attending, then you know damn well that they are expecting a return on their investment.
Unfortunately, the Jets are unable to utilize any of these advantages. Leon Hess dropped dead and his estate sold the goddamn team to goddamn Woody Johnson. And Woody Johnson has gone on to craft a franchise that excels most at making poor decisions. Start with the coaching lineup from the past decade. After Bill Belichick resigned via cocktail napkin, the Jets have had the pleasure of employing a patsy (Al Groh), a bat-shit crazy fool (Herm Edwards), an egomaniac who probably kisses himself in the mirror (Eric Mangini), and a big fat asshole who makes foot-fetish pornography with his wife (Sexy Rex). Also, after blasé GM Terry Bradway was kicked to the curb following a vanilla campaign that leeched off the success of Bill Parcells, fans were introduced to used-car-salesman Mike Tannenbaum as his replacement. The roster of executives and coaches who have run this franchise is as inspiring as a superhero team comprised solely of multiple Aquamans.
What complicates matters further is that poor decision-making at the executive and coaching level will obviously have an impact on the player personnel department. And I can’t stress enough how true this rings for the Jets. So whenever someone points out that the Jets have been somewhat relevant over the past decade, I’m quick to assure them that any semblance of relevance came out of pure coincidence, not because of tactical strategy. For example, take a look at the Jets past two decades of 1st Round Draft Picks (24 picks total). Out of 24 picks, the Jets took EIGHT offensive skill position players: two quarterbacks (Pennington, Sanchez); two wide receivers (Keyshawn, Santana Moss) and FOUR FUCKING TIGHT ENDS (Johnny Mitchell, Kyle Brady, Anthony Becht and Dustin Keller).
Twenty Years. Eight skill positions. Four tight ends. If those statistics don’t scream stupidity, then you don’t know the meaning of incompetence.
The cyclical banana-peel-slip can be traced right back to the head honcho, Woody Johnson. A self-proclaimed "hands off" owner, Johnson has done himself no favors by being oblivious to his franchise's shortcomings. Even this season, after Tannenbaum traded for Tim Tebow, Johnson marveled at the intensified media presence, as if Tebow was some no-name bumpkin who just happened to land in the media capital of the world. He's also stated - most likely slipped - that the Jets are in the “media business.” Well okay, Wood, thanks for clarifying. I was under the assumption that you wanted to win a fucking Super Bowl or something. Glad to know your quarterly numbers are up, you dick.
Oh, and one more thing--PSL’s. Nothing is worse than imposing PSL’s on your fans. I know the Jets aren’t alone here – fourteen other NFL teams impose the same regulations (including the Giants) – but is there anything worse than having to pay thousands of dollars just for the right to buy season tickets that cost thousands of dollars? It’s literally the perfect summation of why Woody Johnson is a greedy-fucking-asshole who doesn’t care if the Jets sport a .300 winning percentage or sink into an active volcano. FYI - Johnson’s estimated worth according to Forbes is $3.5 billion. BILLION. Why be a straight-shooter who fans universally adore when you can be a slimy fucker who shits all over his loyal sheep?
I honestly don’t believe that there is any hope for the Jets. Not immediate or long term. And this isn’t me being Chicken Little--I seriously think the Jets will, even at their very best, jump and fall short for ever and ever. Scoot over, Vikings.
Even still, after all that bitching, the ineptitude doesn’t thwart my allegiance. It’s like defending that cousin of yours who weighs 300lbs and likes to eat from the trash. Yeah, he’s awful and terrifying to be around, but he’s still your cousin. And what else am I going to talk about during football season? Golf handicaps? Fuck golf. Investment strategies? Please. My investment strategy is in the form of five random numbers and one Powerball number, bitch.
My only hope left – and I know I’m not alone here – is that every single time Woody Johnson makes a statement to the press, he ends it with an announcement saying he’s moving the team to Los Angeles effective immediately. Or to Anchorage. Or to fucking Beijing. Just as long as they’re uprooted and gone and not my problem any longer.
Until then, Just End the Season. Every…Single…Season.
Click HERE to follow @NotRyanAdam on Twitter
I want to be clear about something regarding this post – I fully understand that there are plenty more terrifying things happening in this world right now, things so horrible and incomprehensible that it makes me sound like a fucking dickhead for complaining about the state of one shitty NFL franchise. As I’m sure we all astutely recognize - now more than ever - life is a precious, fleeting gift that we should take the time to celebrate on a daily basis. I don’t care if this sounds cliché or hokey, because it’s true. And I don’t care if I sound like a money swindling pastor when I say we all need to enjoy each fucking day as if it were the best day ever. Because you never fucking know when or how the curtain will come down.
But the Jets are a special blend of shittiness. An exotic, Turkish blend, if you may. Because unlike teams who face geographical and media-market hurdles, the Jets were gifted with one of the biggest media markets on the planet. They have the location, the fan base, and the revenue stream to potentially recruit the sport’s top football minds, unlike some franchises that have to convince a potential GM that his family will just LOVE Tampa in August and that the six-pound Palmetto bugs are adorable. Forget the vapidity of the West Coast or the salt-of-the-Earth atmosphere in the Midwest--New York has the ability to humble even the most egotistical of egos. On top of that, New York has culture and arts and events shooting out of its asshole, a never ending stream of stuff to do for even the most bored families. Also, kids who attend school in Manhattan probably leave fifth grade with better educations than 75% of the rest of the country’s high school graduates. I wish that I was kidding, but when Kate Hudson or Jennifer Garner shells out $100K a year to whichever Charter School little Applesauce is attending, then you know damn well that they are expecting a return on their investment.
Unfortunately, the Jets are unable to utilize any of these advantages. Leon Hess dropped dead and his estate sold the goddamn team to goddamn Woody Johnson. And Woody Johnson has gone on to craft a franchise that excels most at making poor decisions. Start with the coaching lineup from the past decade. After Bill Belichick resigned via cocktail napkin, the Jets have had the pleasure of employing a patsy (Al Groh), a bat-shit crazy fool (Herm Edwards), an egomaniac who probably kisses himself in the mirror (Eric Mangini), and a big fat asshole who makes foot-fetish pornography with his wife (Sexy Rex). Also, after blasé GM Terry Bradway was kicked to the curb following a vanilla campaign that leeched off the success of Bill Parcells, fans were introduced to used-car-salesman Mike Tannenbaum as his replacement. The roster of executives and coaches who have run this franchise is as inspiring as a superhero team comprised solely of multiple Aquamans.
What complicates matters further is that poor decision-making at the executive and coaching level will obviously have an impact on the player personnel department. And I can’t stress enough how true this rings for the Jets. So whenever someone points out that the Jets have been somewhat relevant over the past decade, I’m quick to assure them that any semblance of relevance came out of pure coincidence, not because of tactical strategy. For example, take a look at the Jets past two decades of 1st Round Draft Picks (24 picks total). Out of 24 picks, the Jets took EIGHT offensive skill position players: two quarterbacks (Pennington, Sanchez); two wide receivers (Keyshawn, Santana Moss) and FOUR FUCKING TIGHT ENDS (Johnny Mitchell, Kyle Brady, Anthony Becht and Dustin Keller).
Twenty Years. Eight skill positions. Four tight ends. If those statistics don’t scream stupidity, then you don’t know the meaning of incompetence.
The cyclical banana-peel-slip can be traced right back to the head honcho, Woody Johnson. A self-proclaimed "hands off" owner, Johnson has done himself no favors by being oblivious to his franchise's shortcomings. Even this season, after Tannenbaum traded for Tim Tebow, Johnson marveled at the intensified media presence, as if Tebow was some no-name bumpkin who just happened to land in the media capital of the world. He's also stated - most likely slipped - that the Jets are in the “media business.” Well okay, Wood, thanks for clarifying. I was under the assumption that you wanted to win a fucking Super Bowl or something. Glad to know your quarterly numbers are up, you dick.
Oh, and one more thing--PSL’s. Nothing is worse than imposing PSL’s on your fans. I know the Jets aren’t alone here – fourteen other NFL teams impose the same regulations (including the Giants) – but is there anything worse than having to pay thousands of dollars just for the right to buy season tickets that cost thousands of dollars? It’s literally the perfect summation of why Woody Johnson is a greedy-fucking-asshole who doesn’t care if the Jets sport a .300 winning percentage or sink into an active volcano. FYI - Johnson’s estimated worth according to Forbes is $3.5 billion. BILLION. Why be a straight-shooter who fans universally adore when you can be a slimy fucker who shits all over his loyal sheep?
I honestly don’t believe that there is any hope for the Jets. Not immediate or long term. And this isn’t me being Chicken Little--I seriously think the Jets will, even at their very best, jump and fall short for ever and ever. Scoot over, Vikings.
Even still, after all that bitching, the ineptitude doesn’t thwart my allegiance. It’s like defending that cousin of yours who weighs 300lbs and likes to eat from the trash. Yeah, he’s awful and terrifying to be around, but he’s still your cousin. And what else am I going to talk about during football season? Golf handicaps? Fuck golf. Investment strategies? Please. My investment strategy is in the form of five random numbers and one Powerball number, bitch.
My only hope left – and I know I’m not alone here – is that every single time Woody Johnson makes a statement to the press, he ends it with an announcement saying he’s moving the team to Los Angeles effective immediately. Or to Anchorage. Or to fucking Beijing. Just as long as they’re uprooted and gone and not my problem any longer.
Until then, Just End the Season. Every…Single…Season.
Click HERE to follow @NotRyanAdam on Twitter
I want to be clear about something regarding this post – I fully understand that there are plenty more terrifying things happening in this world right now, things so horrible and incomprehensible that it makes me sound like a fucking dickhead for complaining about the state of one shitty NFL franchise. As I’m sure we all astutely recognize - now more than ever - life is a precious, fleeting gift that we should take the time to celebrate on a daily basis. I don’t care if this sounds cliché or hokey, because it’s true. And I don’t care if I sound like a money swindling pastor when I say we all need to enjoy each fucking day as if it were the best day ever. Because you never fucking know when or how the curtain will come down.
But I do appreciate the power of humor--it serves as an easy distraction when life gets despondent. And I think that’s always been the point of my blog – to make light of annoying shit by making bad jokes about inconsequential stuff. And I plan of continuing to make bad jokes about low-hanging fruit while I can. It doesn’t mean I’m taking advantage of my time – I actually believe the opposite, in fact. (end of sermon)
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