Today summed up life as a New York Jets fan.
The team has been awful this year. Just awful. 0-13 entering this afternoon’s clash against the Los Angeles Rams. A supposed phenom quarterback who no longer looks particularly phenomenal. A featured halfback who was born before the Kennedy assassination. A coach whose personality (arrogant and dismissive) lines up perfectly with his leadership abilities (minimal to none). A roster pocked by poor signings, poor selections, poor overall judgment.
But … there was a silver lining. All the Jets—my Jets—had to do was lose out their last three games, and they’d lock up the No. 1 selection in the 2021 NFL Draft. And, to be clear, this would be no ordinary No. 1 selection. Clemson’s Trevor Lawrence is, by most accounts, the brightest quarterback prospect to leave college since Tennessee’s Peyton Manning more than two decades ago. Lawrence is strong, polished, savvy, tested. He’s the real deal; the type of generational talent scouts drool over.
So they played the Rams—a legit Super Bowl contender. And … fucking fuck fuck with toasted almonds. The Jets won. Because of course they won. Why guarantee yourselves a franchise-changing quarterback when you can capture a meaningless December game for a coach destined to be fired? Why line up the stars when you can shit in a bucket?
The great Michael J. Lewis, my pal and Jets lifer, said today there’s still hope the Jaguars beat the Bears next week and the Jets reclaim the top choice. But anyone who’s rooted for this team beyond a year or two knows that’s impossible. The Jets are Murphy’s Law come to life. Everything that can go wrong goes wrong. Every screw is turned the wrong way. Ever knife blade is dull. The Jets are Mariah Carey in “Glitter.” They’re Alex Karras in “Webster.” They are helpless and hopeless, and with the No. 2 pick in the 2021 Draft I predict they will select Nick Lorden, wide receiver from the University of New Hampshire.
Why Nick Lorden?
Because I randomly found him via a Google search.
The Jets way.