Somewhere (maybe) in a box of stuff somewhere in our current home's basement, assuming it survived the move from across the Atlantic, and the one before that from Greenland to Germany, and the one before that from Indiana to Sondrestrom... is a piece of foolscap with "To Billy, Study and Play Hard!" signed by Weeb Eubank and Joe Willie Namath shortly after both captured the first Super Bowl title a former AFL football team had claimed, Super Bowl III, triumphing over the then Baltimore Colts by a score of XVI-VII.
Hey, if the NFL can use Roman numerals to count Super Bowls, I can use them to tally the totals on the scoreboard of the actual contest.
Anyway, many decades later, I still call myself a NY Jets fan though I cannot tell you the name of their coach, or of his predecessor, or of ... you get my drift or the names of anyone on the team. Let's go corporate entity! J-E-T-S!
To be honest, there's nothing to root for. The team has plumbed new depths of incompetence and inconsistency, often simultaneously, for so long, I've lost track and around the time the Jets released Namath to allow Richard Todd to take over as quarterback, I also lost interest.
So the other day, the team signed a thirty-nine-year-old as their dream quarterback and there's just so much wrong and illogical in the construction of the first part of this sentence I cannot even start to grasp the euphoria with which the signing was greeted.
I'll give the team this: they come up with new ways to break their fans' hearts every season. I'll watch them this fall like I'd slow down to look at a wreck on the highway. And then, having glimpsed the debris will accelerate until they disappear in my rearview mirror, slowly sigh and then softly say, 'wait until next year.'
-bill kenny
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