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EPIC NFL Thanksgiving Slate 🙌

Why the New York Jets Are the Real Winners of Super Bowl XLVI

Chris Adams-WallFeb 8, 2012

I had myself a good chuckle watching the Patriots first play of Super Bowl XLVI. I’m not sure why. I mean, I was surrounded by New England fans who knew me well enough that they wouldn’t hesitate to hit me if I provoked them during what was arguably the most important game of the Belichick era to date.

But there I was, in a hostile environment of irascible Pats' fans, laughing hysterically at Tom Brady’s unfortunate heave downfield to no one that resulted in an intentional grounding call and a safety. On his first play of the Super Bowl, the best quarterback of my generation had handed his opponents two points and the ball, just like that.

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But why was I laughing, again? Oh, right. Because the play resulted in the most unexpected outcome imaginable under the circumstances, and as someone who has rooted ardently against the Patriots for nearly two decades, New England’s opening drive couldn’t have started much better.

However, as a Jets fan, the play was reminiscent of one not far in the past that involved the Patriots’ opponents on Sunday—the New York Giants—and beleaguered Jets' quarterback Mark Sanchez.

In the penultimate game of the season, and with the Giants leading their city rivals 20-14 with just over two minutes remaining, Sanchez got the ball back at the Jets’ own eight-yard line. It had been a less than spectacular game up to this point to say the least. Anemic offensive displays coupled with sloppy defense on both sides had sullied an otherwise intense quadrennial battle for New York.

Now with little time left and both teams facing a must-win situation, the Jets had a chance to erase the prior 58 minutes of contemptible football and march down the field to seal the win and a playoff berth for the third straight season.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, on the first play from scrimmage, Sanchez dropped back—and then continued to drop back—until he found himself being chased into the end zone by Giants' defensive tackle Chris Canty. The former USC quarterback then did what every Jets fan has grown so accustomed to him doing in similar situations these last three years—he panicked. And as he was being brought down well behind the goal line—yes, he dropped back almost one-tenth of the football field—he decided to throw the ball to left tackle D’Brickashaw Ferguson, who made the catch and then fumbled.

But that didn’t matter, because these types of plays aren’t permissible in the National Football League. Unfortunately, sometimes—and more often than not for some teams—ill-advised shenanigans are. The result of the play was a safety. The Giants got the ball back and won the game, resulting in the end of the season for the Jets.

I guess that’s why I was laughing when Brady started off Sunday night in similar fashion. But to be honest, there probably shouldn’t have been any laughter at all because Super Bowl XLVI featured the least desirable matchup of all possible Super Bowl matchups. As a Jets fan, you learn very quickly to hate the Patriots as well as the Giants. Perhaps you hate one more than the other, but I think that depends on where you’re from. No matter which you loathe more though, both are unquestionably your two least favorite teams in the NFL.

I went through this matchup in college four years ago that made me think the world had it out for me. The Jets had won nothing, the Red Sox had just won another World Series, and now the Giants were readying themselves to meet the wrath of the undefeated Patriots. It was a no-win situation, and life as a sports fan couldn’t have been much worse.

But then something changed. It was probably David Tyree’s catch (that made me scream myself hoarse; there is no way in hell I will ever support the Patriots). Or maybe it was Plaxico’s wide open game-winner and the stupefied looks on the faces of the New England fans around me that followed. Whatever it was, when Brady’s last second hail mary to Randy Moss hit the turf, I rejoiced like I never had rejoiced before at the end of a football game.

The two lone Giants fans in the room took off immediately, and I followed. They ran amok through the Maine campus waving a large flag bearing the victor’s insignia, exuding joy as much as shock with every step. And when both of them finally turned to face me, their radiating smiles told the story.

“This is the best thing ever!” one of them boomed.

I believed him. But while I was delighted at the Patriots’ demise, like any Jets fan surely felt that night or Sunday, watching these Giants fans celebrate euphorically made me green with envy.

It didn’t have to be like this for me. I was born in Maine and raised in Massachusetts, and I could have very easily chosen the Patriots as my football team. And I might have, had it not been for my New Yorker of a father who made certain his first-born biological son would support the same teams that he did.

But it goes even deeper than that because my father supported the Giants for 56 years of his life, before he finally had had enough of Dave Brown, Dan Reeves and the organization as a whole. He came home from work one night and proudly told my mother, “I’m a Jets fan now.”

It was this moment that sealed my fate as a football fan. Since my father’s switching of allegiances (which also had a lot to do with Bill Parcells signing on as the Jets' new head coach), the Giants have won two Super Bowls (both against the Patriots), and the Jets have won none.

The Giants are one of, if not the most respected team in football, and the Jets are perhaps one of the biggest jokes. And despite back-to-back AFC Championship appearances in his first two seasons, and a commendable 4-2 playoff record, Mark Sanchez is several tiers lower on the shelf than Eli Manning (not to mention Tom Brady).

Sunday night was another no-win situation, but I was pleased the Giants were able to beat the Patriots again especially by the way they did it. I was texting one of the same Giants fans from that unforgettable night four years ago during the game, and at its conclusion he fired me a message that just said, “Switch!”

Leave the Jets? Support the G-Men?

Sure, for a moment part of me wished that my father had remained a Giants fan and sucked it up for twelve more years so I could have felt that indescribable feeling of elation when your favorite team wins the league’s championship. I have felt it five times as a Yankees fan (it never gets old), but this was something different. This was the Super Bowl. And in all these years as a Jets fan, I haven’t even gotten a taste of my team playing in the big game.

And that is precisely the point that allowed me to arrive at my realization: that while the New York Giants may have won the game against the New England Patriots (again), the real winners of Super Bowl XLVI were and are the New York Jets.

The Patriots' dynasty has come and gone. If they lose the big game one more time, New England will have won the Super Bowl in 50 percent of its trips there with the Belichick-Brady coach-quarterback tandem. The same can be said now about Mike Tomlin and Ben Roethlisberger. The Pats haven’t won the Super Bowl since 2004, Brady doesn’t look as sharp or as smart as he used to be, and you have to wonder if that (dark) Belichikian magic is starting to disappear.

The Giants on the other hand have won two Super Bowls in five years, but have missed the playoffs twice in that span. And everyone remembers what happened the year after they stunned the Patriots when they finished as the NFC’s number one seed only to fall on their faces at home in the divisional round to the Donovan McNabb-led sixth seeded Eagles—hardly the stuff of dynasties.

But the Jets? The way this past season ended, there can only be room for optimism.

That’s what excites me. The fact that I can’t see the future for my favorite football team and that I know the potential is there for something great.

To be sure, the Patriots and the Giants have had unprecedented success this decade and I would be the last to call into question their respective formidability as NFL colossuses, especially following Sunday’s epic conclusion. But I’ll ask you this—is there a better motivator for a team than your two biggest rivals making the Super Bowl and then the one you share a stadium and a city with winning it (and having that happen twice in five years)?

It is also no secret that the Colts may soon cut Peyton Manning and that the Jets would be interested. You’re telling me the record four-time MVP wouldn’t be more than a little jacked up to compete with Brady at least twice a year in the hopes of winning a title or two more to tie—maybe even exceed—his greatest adversary in that department, and surpass his little brother who currently has one more Super Bowl ring than he does in the process? The Jets are a perfect fit for Manning at this juncture in his career.

But they might not even need him (remember when they got Brett Favre?). Sanchez has proven he can get it done in the postseason and that he will rarely make mistakes in January (9 TDs, 3 INTs, 94.3 QB rating—all on the road); the Jets just need to get there. And though he struggled at times last year, a lot of that had to do with a permeable offensive line and bad play-calling. He should get one more year to prove he was worth trading up for.

So why not the Jets? They were practically on the Super Bowl’s doorstep two years in a row from ‘09 to ‘10. And even though this season ended miserably, some of the team’s members have reportedly already begun to reconcile their differences—most notably Sanchez and disgruntled wide receiver Santonio Holmes—as they turn their focus to next season.

It will be a season in which Rex Ryan and Sanchez will have to deliver, or else. A season in which the defense will finally be healthy (and scary) again. A season in which Peyton Manning might be under center. A season in which the Jets will have to become relevant again. A season in which the Jets will have to win.

And what could be a better motivator than Sunday’s Super Bowl showdown?

“It could have been us,” I thought momentarily before catching myself.

“No,” I corrected myself, “it will be us.”

EPIC NFL Thanksgiving Slate 🙌

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