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New York Jets

3 Seasons

I heard them laughing, months ago.

A bunch of real comedians…

Salisbury. Irvin. Young. Berman.

Joe, Terry, Jimmy. Even Howie, star of the universally acclaimed "Firestorm."

Disrespecting my Jets.  Spewing witless one-liners while looming over their deteriorating green and white carcass.
These thoughts are nestled securely within my subconscious, sneaking into my emotions every single Sunday.

There’s "Stink" Schlereth, confidently predicting continued Jets futility. There’s Rick Reilly, feigning relief that, in this convoluted era of parity, he can still count on the Jets to suck. There’s every major news publication, banishing the Jets’ into the basement, out of sight, out of mind.
.
How does it feel to be a fan of a team so thoroughly ridiculed and derided?

It stinks.

And it invites the remembrance of better days.

Being 19, my experience as a Jet fan certainly isn’t seasoned. I’ve only encountered a mere trace of the cursed karma haunting the Jets through their history; post Super Bowl 3.

Drafting Ken O’Brien instead of Dan Marino, selecting Blair Thomas over Emmit Smith, these instances are abstract Urban Legend from my perspective.

No, the real certification of any true Junior Jet fan, among his weathered peers, would undeniably connect back to Pittsburgh.

We were so close. So damn close, it hurts.

I hate that team. They ripped my heart out. If the offense could have done anything, anything at all, they would have advanced to AFC Championship Game. They would have earned the respect so desperately desired. They should have had that game. It was theirs.

Pittsburgh gave it to them. Gave it.

God, I hate the 2004 Jets.

And yet… I love that team. I mean… I freaking love that team.

Curtis Martin, in his finest season, that awesome offensive line, Chad throwing 50 yard bombs with a torn rotator cuff, Santana Moss going deep in San Diego, Quincy Carter pitching great in relief, John Vilma’s rookie year.

But there’ll always be that irremovable stain. That football twisting helplessly in the wind, winding wide of the uprights…

I’ll never get over that game.

I’ll never extend a complete acquittal to Doug Brien. I’ll never forgive Herm Edwards for coaching scared despite his hard talk.

And on the flip side of the coin… I’ll never forget Chad Pennington’s courage and commitment, never forget the unbreakable will of our defense, ferocious to the end, clawing through their third straight overtime game.

And that’s the contradiction in being a fan. The importance of victory is paramount… but does a narrow view sometimes obscure significant triumphs?

Could victory, in its purest form, exist so subtly that it escapes our sight?

/

The philosophical merits of victory were rather simple for me on the night January 15, 2005. There, in my basement, with a few friends and acquaintances, I got completely wasted and prayed for a Jet win in their Divisional Playoff game.

Their opponent was beyond worthy. The Steelers had gone 15-1 in the regular season, easily claiming Home Field advantage, riding a stellar running game and spectacular defense.

The Jets were coming off a euphoric upset of the heavily favored San Diego Chargers in the Wild Card round.

If they were to propel their season forward, the Jets would have to do it in spite of New York’s media, which lampooned the team on every step of their playoff run. The Green and White were first taken to task for an admittedly soft regular season schedule, before being put completely to the fire thanks to out of character outburst by star Q.B. Chad Pennington.

The incident took place after a sterling home performance against the Seattle Seahawks. Pennington refused to show his face at the post-game press conference, a protest against the perceived insults of writers who had anointed him a savior just two years prior. Pennington had become increasingly scrutinized by lurking cynics, who derided his arm strength and questioned his ability to vanquish above average defenses. Chad could absorb the degradation of his arm strength. He was concealing an injury at the time, a heavily damaged rotator cuff, and had resigned himself to the slings of uninformed reporters. The low blows regarding his inability to beat quality defenses, however, would be taken personally. His boiling anger flamed to the surface, after being surrounded by the press in a tunnel adjacent to Weeb Ewbank Hall. He boldly decreed that the gathered press should be "honored" for the "privilege" of covering the New York Jets. His exact speech, a sincere, though mistimed, salute to professional football, was purposely taken out of context by the somewhat stunned writers, who never pass up an opportunity to cast a new villain.

The backlash would be severe, especially as Chad played poorly down the stretch, and the Jets backed their way into the postseason. Their entry into the playoffs could be ironically attributed to Pittsburgh, who defeated the Bills on the season’s final day to gift New York a seed.

/

Chad’s lethally accurate passes were quickly becoming a memory. The defense, a strength all year long, seemed to be running out of gas, especially after allowing an aerial assault to the high flying Rams in week 17.

The Jets were expected to fold against San Diego, take a beating.

It was Chad who represented those Jets, wounded, but not broken, all heart, little sense. He had zero support from the local media, who stoked a distinctly anti-Jet sentiment, or the national press, who enjoyed their free shots at a new punching bag.

But he still had the belief of his fellow players, coaches, and the fans.

For we still believed in the legend of Chad Pennington, the kid from Marshall who played the position to perfection in 2002.

He put his career on the line, in those dying months of 2004. He put team before his legacy, in January of 2005.

He would pay a price for his valiancy.

So would we.

/

Only brief, passing fragments remain.

I remember staggering around in a drunken frenzy, knocking over an ashtray, spilling charred cigarettes and black ash all over my marble basement floor, when David Barrett picked off Ben Roethlisberger late in the fourth quarter, to set up Doug Brien with a second chance to win the game.

His destiny.

I remember grabbing every guest by the shoulder, shaking them, yelling:

"He can’t miss this! He can’t miss this kick!"

As Brien lined up for the kick, and I finally sat down, to the relief of everyone else in the room, I remember an unsettling sensation coursing through my veins, a distinct feel of fatigue. The three overtimes, in a murderous row, had left me devoid of feeling, in a football induced state of shock. Brien’s initial effort to win the game, a 47yarder, hit the bottom crossbar of the field goal post. He was inches away from being a hero.

This time, fourth quarter, game tied at 17, four seconds left, the kick was 42 yards away.

I hoped he could do it.

I knew he could do it.

As the ball was snapped, the dark blue CBS score-box, sitting in the top left hand corner of the broadcast presentation, had it’s seconds flash instantly, from 0:04 to 0:00.

Regulation had expired.

He can’t miss this.

/

In the summer of 2005, I wrote an overly ambitious column for Sportscolumn that attempted to describe every player filling a spot on the Jets’ specialized organizational depth chart.

Yes, there was analysis galore. The writing wasn’t top notch by any measure, but damn it, the effort was there… maybe a little too much effort. Through the course of the article, I happened to write a lengthy passage about third string Quarterback Brooks Bollinger. Upon an attempt to edit the monumental mess of a piece, I thought it somewhat a waste, writing more than a few cursory words about Bollinger, who I prayed would never see any extended time on the field.

" Brooks Bollinger: Bollinger was a late round pick with enough expected up side to eventually take over as Chad Pennington’s primary back up. Obviously, something has gone wrong with that plan, which made signing Fiedler necessary. The primary problem may be with the fact that Bollinger often fumbles when hit in the pocket. With the signing of a long term back up, Bollinger seems pigeon holed into the number three spot."

[The primary problem may be with the fact- damn get to the point already!]

Anyway, my admitted over indulgence in the column can be easily aligned with the excitement I felt for the 2005 Jets. Sure, 2004 had ended in disaster, and yeah, Chad Pennington needed surgery to repair his torn rotator cuff during the off-season, but the opiate of optimism was flowing at an all time high in Jets land as the team descended on Hofstra in August for Training Camp.

In retrospect, why exactly we were so optimistic is something of a mystery.

There were certainly turbulent waves threatening to sabotage good ship Herm well before the season started, and the injuries piled up.

The roster, as constructed going into the season, was a complete mess. The sloppy, confusing column I wrote breaking it down was actually pretty apropos. The best way to describe the Jets 2005 team construction was indeed, sloppy and confusing. There was a severe dearth of talent at defensive tackle, which featured Dewayne Robertson and not much else. The team had lost ultra valuable nose tackle Jason Ferguson to the Cowboys for the 2005 campaign, and suspect General Manager Terry Bradway never made a significant effort to replace him. I mean… he didn’t even try.

It wasn’t the first time I rubbed my chin in suspicious foreboding at a Bradway move. The previous off-season, he had inexplicably vouched for Reggie Tongue to fill a gaping Jets hole at Safety, instead of thoroughbred veteran John Lynch. Now, Lynch was coming off a rather serious neck injury, which had limited his playing time in 2003, but to even compare him with Tongue was unadulterated lunacy. Tongue became my mortal enemy during the 2004 season. I really hated the guy, basically because he wasn’t Lynch. Lynch and Herm Edwards were close, their relationship dating back to Herm’s days coaching up the young Buccaneers secondary. It seemed like a slam-dunk, common sense move for the Jets, but Bradway won out with ownership and got his main man, the immortal Reggie Tongue. It became a running joke between my brother and I as the weeks wore on. Anytime something went wrong in the Jets secondary, whether he was involved or not, I would yell something to the extent of: "Jesus Tongue, what the hell you doing out there?" [Or something much, much worse than that.]

The irony was that Tongue could have scored the deciding points in the Playoff battle with the Steelers, intercepting a horrendous Ben Roethlisberger pass and running for a touchdown, to give the Jets a late lead. Touché, Reggie.

Thin at cornerback for 2005, the Jets signed an out of shape Ty Law, who would corral ten interceptions on the season due entirely to teams constantly picking on him in single coverage situations. Besides having a surly attitude and a nonexistent presence in the locker room, Law also bought the propensity to commit a heinous amount of penalties to the table. Getting beat early and often in the early weeks of 2005, Law held on to receivers for dear life, an exchange of passing yardage for penalty yardage. He also had an awful time adjusting to the new five-yard bump rule, getting flagged constantly for mugging receivers downfield.

When they signed Law, the Jets were forced to cut Jon McGraw, an able coverage safety, and Ray Mickens, valuable as a nickel back, among other veterans who provided depth on defense. What resulted was a stilted, thin roster that would surely crumble if any key pieces ceded their positions due to injury or unexpected ineffectiveness.

And dear Lord… would there be plenty of both.

I think part of the reason why I was so assured, externally anyway, about a Jet Super Bowl trip in 2005, was because I simply refused to acknowledge the past, and what had really kept the Jets out of the big game the previous year.

Simply put, the offense stunk it up at Pittsburgh. And all signs were pointing downward heading into ’05.

Chad Pennington, attempting to digest a complicated offense installed by new coordinator Mike Heimerdinger while recovering from serious rotator cuff surgery, may as well had Riddler styled question marks splattered across his green jersey in Training Camp. Curtis Martin, coming off a season where he carried the load for the offense, was another year older, and without the departed LaMont Jordan to spot him in short yardage situations. The stalwart offensive line was also aging.

About the only positive interjected into the Jets’ offensive brew was Laveranues Coles, a prodigal son returning home. Coles had left the Jets following 2002 over a money dispute, and his status as number one receiver was never quite consistently filled by the marvelously gifted but oft injured Santana Moss. The Jets exchanged Moss for Coles during the 2005 off-season, in a move that generated some needed goodwill within the fan base after the utter calamity at Pittsburgh.

[At this point, reader, you might be saying to yourself: Shut up about Pittsburgh already. But it’s just tough to understand the magnitude of that defeat if you’re not a Jet fan. I mean, I’m at the bar, and I’ll happen to start a conversation with a Jet fan, and out of nowhere, either he, she, or me will spout out: "Remember Pittsburgh?" before we solemnly nod our heads and take a quick shot of hard liquor. Damn you Steelers, damn you.]

Sporting an unbalanced defense, an enigmatic offense, and a coach who couldn’t manage an alarm clock [Tough but true] the Jets began their 2005 season in Kansas City hoping to erase the nightmare of `04’s bitter conclusion… at Pittsburgh. [Ok, that’s the last time. Maybe.]

/

I was pumped, ready to go for week one.

And than the game started.

If one watches enough games as a fan, no matter the sport, there are certain intuitive mechanisms bound to spring into the mind due to either past experience, overwhelming gut feeling, or just plain mortification.

And as the Chiefs ran two running plays for about 70 yards on their opening act from scrimmage, right down the Jets throat, flying through the holes where Jason Ferguson used to be, a creeping, sickening realization began to perpetuate my thoughts.

This team sucks.

Bad.

And they did. The Chiefs lit them up 27-7. Chad Pennington fumbled about 37 times and just didn’t look comfortable at all, in the pocket, on the run, and especially throwing the ball.

I was worried.

After defeating a rebuilding Miami team in their week two home opener, the inevitable became reality. Squaring off at home against the Jaguars and their notorious defensive front, Pennington, who wasn’t given enough time to heal, re-tore his rotator cuff. After Jay Fielder was injured just moments later, Chad heroically forced his way back into the game and almost threw a game tying touchdown pass to Wayne Chrebet. It would be his last meaningful pass of the season.

Pennington was done.

And thankfully, so were the Jets.

/

And there’s the curveball. Therein lies the victory in defeat. For, if Jay Fielder hadn’t been knocked out for the season against Jacksonville as well as Pennington, the Jets, who maintained their dogged spirit from 2004, if nothing else, might have scrapped out a few wins and finished 7-9. Suddenly the season wouldn’t seem such a disaster. The Jets would have never let Herm walk to Kansas City. Terry Bradway wouldn’t have been shoved aside for master capologist Mike Tannebaum.

Instead, Fielder’s injury allowed the aforementioned Brooks Bollinger an opportunity to pilot an NFL team. Bollinger didn’t perform horribly, but that achievement wouldn’t be enough to salvage the Jets’ flushed season.

Often, I allow myself to think deeper, to process the story of the Jets as a book, the numerous numbing chapters leading to the ultimate goal of a Super Bowl championship.

What if Doug Brien was the hero?

The Jets would have traveled to New England for the AFC Championship.

I loved that team, but Chad Pennington’s wounded wing would not have gotten the job against the hardened Patriots. The Jets had been soundly destroyed by the Pats at home late in ’04. What adjustments could the Jets have realistically have made in the AFC Championship? What further damage would have been done to Pennington’s shoulder?

And more importantly, with a win over Pittsburgh, how many more years would Herman Edwards have gotten?

Listen… this is tough for me. I loved Herm as a motivator. I hated him as a coach. It’s that simple. The two are very different.

Because of the losing stigma entailed with the Jets organization, remnants of the Kotite era, I’m not sure people realize just how talented a team Herm Edwards inherited from Al Groh.

Herm wasn’t the driving force getting these teams to the playoffs.

Look at the offense. You had Martin. Coles. Moss. Chrebet. Mawae.

On defense, you had the likes of Lewis, Jones, Ferguson, Ellis and Abraham.

Those teams were Super Bowl caliber.
/

The story of the 2002 Jets was a special one. They sputtered out of the gate at a snail’s pace, alternately getting pulverized by Miami and Jacksonville. They benched Vinny, went with Pennington, and eventually recovered from a disastrous 2-5 start, rallying triumphantly to the playoffs.

But why was that team 2-5 in the first place? Analyze all the talent, on both sides of the ball. Even a rapidly corroding Vinny Testaverde shouldn’t have warped the season’s opening acts that horrifically.

No, slow starts were the norm under Edwards. They became an excuse.

At the end of the day, despite all their talent at the key skill positions under Herm, the Jets never reached in an AFC Championship game.

The Raiders were their biggest nemesis, winning a shootout with the Jets in the 2001 Wildcard Game, and killing their Super Bowl dream in the 2002 Divisional playoffs.

There is no player in the NFL, active or retired, that I respected more than Rich Gannon. I was literally nonplussed by his performance against Tampa Bay in the Raiders’ Super Bowl appearance. Based on the way he sliced and diced the Jets, I thought him some kind of Super Man.

Than again, under Herm, the whole Raiders team owned the Jets. Whether it was a mental or physical edge, the Jets never seemed able to crawl from Oakland’s black hole with their season, or pride, in tact.

/

2005 signaled the end of the Herm Edwards era. Murphy and his nefarious law had saw to that.

The time was right for a purge.

The injuries of ’05, especially at Q.B., allowed that to happen naturally. Herm Edwards, a true class act, could walk away with the dignity he so richly deserved.

Enter Mangini.

/

The Jets did something different. The Jets did something innovative. Eric Mangini never interviewed for another job before signing on with New York. He betrayed his mentor in New England, Bill Belicheck, whose venomous disdain with the entire Jet organization is another tale for another time. Starved for a head-coaching job, and having paid his dues in the NFL as everything from a defensive coordinator to ball boy, Mangini bolted New England, severing his relationship with his old boss and friend, and beginning a new one with an organization, and fans, aching for a winner.

Today, in comparison with Man Genius, I shudder at the other possibilities.

Childress?
Tice?
Four more years of playing to win the game… kind of? [That’s the great thing about sports]

The culture of the Jets has changed. This team doesn’t hope. This team executes. Simplicity is victory. For Mangini and the new Jets, the playoffs are just another mountain to climb, an obstacle to overcome, a challenge to be tamed. The team now reflects its coach, playing not with joy or discipline alone, but taking joy in their discipline.

Somewhere along this fantastic 2006 ride, Chad Pennington stayed healthy. Sure, he threw more interceptions than usual in offensive mastermind Brian Schottenheimer’s new system, but he also threw for a career high in yards, and maintained his pristine completion percentage. His comeback story from two potentially debilitating shoulder injuries is equal parts shocking and inspirational. I never thought he’d be the same, I thought perhaps, with time willing, he could somehow survive in the league as a reliable back-up/emergency starter, similar to Bernie Kosar. For further reference on my lack of faith in Pennington’s recovery, read the perpetually downcast "Legend of Chad Pennington" in my archives. Looks like I’m just another writer Pennington had to set straight, about what football is all about.

Somewhere along this amazing 2006 journey, Jerricho Cotchery and Kerry Rhodes became stars. Cotchery, at long last, was given the opportunity to start over Justin McCareins, whom he completely outperformed in both training camp and the preseason. In previous regimes, the player with a higher salary might have been given preferential treatment, and Cotchery would have started the season in the slot. Not so with Mangini.

Proving his ability to both coach players and manage people, Mangini has unleashed Cotchery, but also managed to maintain the focus of McCareins. He kept the benched player motivated, and Justin rose above his bruised ego, becoming a key cog in the Jets’ offense as a big play threat, able to stretch the field. Meanwhile, there aren’t many number two receivers in the league better than Cotchery.

Kerry Rhodes, a second year Safety who quietly accumulated 100 tackles for the moribund 2005 Jets, began watching video with obsessed strategist John Vilma early in the season. Thanks to video, Kerry has taken the next step much sooner than anyone anticipated. He now fits the bill for the prototype Pro Bowl Safety: Smart and savvy, Rhodes is able to go sideline to sideline on any given play, a trait only a truly gifted defensive back can boast. His speed on the blitz is uncanny. Rhodes is able to maneuver around the offensive line and sack unsuspecting quarterbacks on seeming whim. He was snubbed for the Pro Bowl by John Lynch.

I’d take Rhodes any day of the week.

Somewhere within the stat sheet, Laveranues Coles gained over a thousand yards at wide receiver, taking the best hits the league has to offer, while never missing a step over the middle, or over the top.

Sometime during the week 9 bye week, Bryan Thomas realized his potential, shocking those who had long written off his previously sagging career, and earning a new contract while playing all over the field. From linebacker to defensive end and back again, nobody is a more versatile player on the Jets’ defense than Bryan Thomas. He is a true hybrid player, a Patriot player, multifaceted.

/

They survived the Titans, battled New England in vain, and beat the Bills. They stepped back against Indy and Jacksonville, and stepped up against Miami and Detroit. They got a raw deal on a raw field in Cleveland, before Mangini paid back the Patriots. They were devoured by playoff hungry Bears, before giving Houston a problem. They humbled Green Bay, but couldn’t tame the Bills. They steadied themselves against Minnesota, and finished the job against Miami.

They beat down a harmless ghost from their recent past, celebrating at home against Oakland.

This is how we got here. From the staggering disappointment in Pittsburgh, to the laughably dubious Opening Day performance against Kansas City, to a New Year’s Day of celebration over the languishing Raiders.

They are the 2006 New York Jets.

They are in the playoffs.

Nobody’s laughing anymore

– Matt Waters

By mw2828

Matt Waters is a screenwriter currently living in New York. He has been writing about sports since age seventeen, about the time when it became painfully apparent that his athletic dreams would go unfulfilled, due to terrible luck and an obscene lack of talent. His favorite movie is “The Thin Red Line”. His favorite band is “Modest Mouse”. His favorite sport is baseball! With an exclamation point.

4 replies on “3 Seasons”

Ha ha Yea thanks for 3 thousand plus words bro. The adjectives to diss Herm Edwards and Terry Bradway were just kind of spilling out of me… lol

Yeah, 19 Oh and that’s supposed to say thanks for reading* three thousand words.  

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