New York Jets: I'd Rather Get Beat Up in An Alley- Hallelujah!

Brett Favre and Leon Washington weren’t the only people who had to work on Thursday night.  I had a performance which started at 8:00.  Yeah I know, an actor who lives in New York–go figure. 

Anyway, from about 8:15 on I was a pacing, fingernail-biting mess backstage.  The Pats and Jets had kicked off and I had no idea what was going on.  There’s no cell reception in the theater so I was stuck clueless except the one score update I got from one of the actors in the dressing room at the end of the first quarter. 

“10 to 3 Jets,” he told me.  I entertained the idea of running out at intermission and grabbing a quick look at the bar across the street but deemed it a dumb idea.  If it’s a close game I might miss the opening of the second act and I don’t think that would go over too well.  We took our bow at 10:02 and by 10:05 I was out of costume and running at a full sprint to my local bar which happened to be two blocks away.

The bartender greeted me with “things are looking good.”  One of my friends who is a Patriots fan said, “The Jets are killing us.”  Then I saw the score.  24 to 13. 

Happiness is not overrated, let me tell you.  I saw Favre’s stats… no interceptions being the one that stood out to me.  Perfect.  I did my job.  The Jets had done theirs and with only a few minutes remaining in the 3rd quarter all we needed was to put up a few more points and keep the clock running. 

The bartender placed a healthy shot of whisky in front of me so I could toast the next Jets touchdown.  Everything was going so well.

Then I proceeded to watch the Patriots score 11 points in what seemed to be the blink of an eye.  Cotchery fumbles.  Pats ball.  Field goal.

Tie Game!?!  Why is this happening to me?  What have I done to personally offend the football gods that they torture me so? I’ve already admitted I’m a superstitious sports fan.  No matter which TV I watched the Patriots were unstoppable.  Matt Cassell didn’t look shaky to me.  He looked more like Joe Montana and Christian Laettner had a baby.

I found myself in the back of the bar watching a tiny 15″ TV with pretty poor reception.  It was on this little sucker that I had just watched the Jets march down the field and (after an eternity) finally score what I thought to be the game winning touchdown.  Whisky.  High Fives.  OK, there were hugs too.  Game off…not.

I don’t do recaps so lets just skip to that Randy Moss touchdown catch with one freakin second left.  How did that happen?  Who paid who how much money?  One moment Cassel’s about to get sacked and the game’s over, the next he’s sticking a dagger right into Mangini’s eye.  Ty Law pretty much spooned Randy Moss in the end zone so how in the world was that ball thrown so perfectly.  You couldn’t have photo shopped the ball into Moss’s hands any better.

Overtime against the Patriots.  There is no Jets fan anywhere that likes to hear that phrase.

This is the turning point of my little narrative.  No, it’s not the coin flip.  It’s right before the captains march to the fifty yard line.   There was a shot of Favre on the sideline talking to one of the lineman.  I couldn’t tell exactly who it was (as I said very small, fuzzy tv) but that didn’t really matter.  The two of them were laughing.  I’m in a bar having my weekly heart attack and the guys I’m nervous for are, well, they’re smiling.  They’re confident.  Could they be looking forward to this?

I’m not going to pretend that I knew the outcome at that moment because I didn’t.   The Jets still needed to win the coin toss, convert a 3rd and 15, and put up some points somehow. 

I think on one pass Favre didn’t give Coles the chance to drop one of his passes.  Instead, he threw it so hard the ball stuck into his shoulder pads.  Favre stared the Belichick mystique square in the eyes.  He didn’t look away.  He didn’t blink.  He didn’t make a mean face.  He just gave the Belichick Bully one of his trademark grins and punched him right in the mouth.

No more speculating.   No more second guessing the acquisition of the 39-year-old Hall of Famer.  Favre showed everyone in the Jets locker room that momentum is only what you let it be.  If the game isn’t over, if it feels like there’s no way to win, if everyone in the country thinks you’re done it just doesn’t matter. 

This is a game.  Just keep it that way.  An offense in football is essentially a machine constructed of human parts.  Every person has a different job and no job is more important than another.  When everybody has confidence that the guy next to him is doing his job then the machine will move the ball.

If Favre never played another day as a Jet he’ll still be loved by all of us.  Kellen Clemens has learned from the best and hopefully will keep a little of Favre’s unflappability and all of his smile.

What a game...