Hey Rex Ryan: You're Still a Pauper To The Big Blue Kingdom

Chris BurnhamContributor IJanuary 26, 2010

Here we are. Two days removed from a surprising New York Jets run that took them deeper into the season than, if you had injected Woody Johnson on down the Jets ladder with sodium thiopental, likely never would have believed they could get to in the first year with their new prize in Mark Sanchez.

Bravo. Good on ya. It happens. Occasionally.

Rex Ryan is good for the National Football League. He's certainly an ever-flowing stream of lovely quotes for media types, talking heads, and bloggers (guilty as charged). But sometimes his bravado gets in the way of an outstanding football mind.

Yeah, we all know he's Buddy Ryan's son. We all know that apples often fall straight down with the tree always in close proximity. And we all know that hyperbole runs rampant, especially in the fishbowl existence that is New York City.

But then, there's this:

"Let's go take this thing. Let's try to get a home game.  Let's play this game in front of our fans and our stadium, the new Jets Stadium.  That is going to be it when we play in it.  I can't wait.   We get our stadium and we are not the visitors in our stadium.  This is our stadium.  We are the biggest show in town and that's what it's going to be."

Pardon? Come again?

It's to be expected that Ryan wants to put his team on the map, if they aren't already. But the Jets need to build on their sudden success before they start believing that there is a new Big Dog on the block. And one would rationally make the case that the Giants will be back in the championship mix in 2010. Not to mention that the Giants are only two years removed from a Super Bowl win. They've won three in the franchises' four appearances.

We all know about the Jets' lone appearance. Is that enough to proclaim dominance against a franchise that has been an equal partner to your franchise for nearly forty years? 

There is no "rivalry" to speak of outside of the schedule rotation. Pre-season games are nothing more than scrimmages in which coaches pray to the football deities that no one makes a trip to the injured-reserve list.

So there can only be one reason for Ryan's shot across the brow of their established co-tenant: