Going Green: The Road to Becoming a New York Jets Fan

I'll never forget it.

It was Sunday, September 17.  The year was 1995.  My uncle had an extra ticket to that afternoon's Jets game, and he asked me if I wanted to join him.

At the time, I didn't really follow football.  My only affiliation was rooting against the Giants, because that's who all of my teachers liked.  But since I wasn't doing anything else that day, I went along for the ride.

As luck would have it, it turned out to be one of the most fulfilling decisions I've ever made.

I remember the smell of charcoal and sizzling steaks in the air as we hurried through the parking lot and into our seats.  I remember the sea of green jackets and jerseys that we passed.  I had never been inside of a football stadium before, and I was overwhelmed.

I remember getting a pretzel when the Jets scored their first touchdown of the day.  A roar echoed through the corridors that was unlike anything I had ever heard before it.  Chills went down my spine as I looked back into the stadium and saw thousands of frenzied fans cheering wildly.

I remember when the older fellas around me complained about this "Kotite" character, and when they yelled at the refs for every call against the guys in green.  I remember an adult in a fireman's helmet getting up on his friend's shoulders and cheering, and how everyone else followed along. 

I remember the Jets earning their first win of the season against the expansion team from Jacksonville, and I remember every enthusiastic high-five from the strangers sitting next to me.

This day stands out in my memory because it was the day I became a fan of the NFL, and more importantly, the day I became a fan of the New York Jets.

Little did I know what I was in for.

The next two seasons were an absolute nightmare, with the team going a combined 4-28 over that stretch.  But still, I remained a fan.

I found heroes in players like Curtis Martin, Vinny Testaverde and Wayne Chrebet - a guy who had grown up in the town next to mine.  I got my first taste of the playoffs in 1998, and realized that while the wins were so much sweeter, the losses hurt so much more.

Of course, through the years, there would be many ups and downs.  From ruptured Achilles' to Monday Night Miracles, from lost playoff games against the Raiders to crushing playoff wins against the Colts, I experienced all kinds of highs and lows.

I rallied around players like Chad Pennington and Santana Moss.  I applauded the classiness of Herm Edwards and the drive of Eric Mangini.  I felt the thrill of winning seasons and playoff appearances, and the heartbreak of injuries and missed field goals against the Steelers.

And maybe I'm a glutton for punishment, but I enjoyed every second of it.  I loved the unpredictability and the adrenaline rush that this team gave me.  I referred to the team as "we".  These guys felt like family sometimes; even when I was disappointed in them, I remained by their side to cheer them when they were back on their feet.

Almost fifteen years later, in the year 2009, I'm still proud to be a Jets fan.  I'm excited about our new group of heroes, guys like Kerry Rhodes, Leon Washington, and maybe one day, Mark Sanchez.  I wear the team's colors with honor and respect.  And it all stems back from that Sunday afternoon in 1995.

I'll never forget it.