Some people are fans of the New York Jets. But many, many more people are NOT fans of the New York Jets. This 2013 Deadspin NFL team preview is for those in the latter group. Read all the 2013 NFL previews so far right here.
Your team: New York Buttfumbles
Your 2012 record: 6-10. LET'S DO IT AGAIN, EVERYBODY!
Your coach: Rex Ryan, who stopped enjoying this job roughly 15 months ago. The fat, swaggering, toe-licking Rex that was here at the turn of the decade has been replaced by a deflated balloon of a man, a man who lost his team ages ago and has already visibly lost his composure in postgame press conferences. It's only the third week of the preseason. This kind of complete systemic breakdown of a shitty team usually happens around November. For the Jets, it's been ongoing for the past 80 weeks. This is the only time the Jets will get a jump on the rest of the NFL.
Like the Panthers, the Jets saw fit to hire a new GM but keep their old miserable coach around. I will never understand the logic behind such gross inaction. This team was a train wreck last season—a train wreck that EVERY LIVING SOUL ON EARTH saw coming—and somehow, through a combination of laziness and cap mismanagement, they are in the EXACT same position as they were a year ago. In fact, they're worse.
It says volumes about the Jets' current predicament that Ryan was pilloried by the local media for putting Mark Sanchez in harm's way: the same Mark Sanchez who is inarguably one of the worst quarterbacks in football, the same Mark Sanchez that has absolutely NO PRAYER of being with this team a year from now, whose potential cap hit was the only thing keeping him from being fired. Somehow keeping HIM upright is crucial to this team's short-term success. You could sabotage an entire team's season Max Bialystock-style and still not concoct a more hopeless situation than the one Rex Ryan is currently in.
By the way, Marty Mornhinweg is your new offensive coordinator, because of course the Jets hired Marty Mornhinweg to be offensive coordinator.
Your quarterback: BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE BUTTFUMBLE.
The truth is that the Jets quarterback is not any one person but rather an immense inter-dimensional void inside which time means nothing and all particles of light are crushed into nothingness. To look at the space behind the Jets' center is to have every blood vessel ripped away from your body. It is a thing that cannot be.
Sanchez is awful, but what's far more alarming is that the Jets drafted someone to replace him (this is something teams should do!) and, again, EVERY LIVING SOUL ON EARTH already knows that he's a bust. They just drafted the Appalachian JaMarcus Russell. Not only did Geno Smith turn the ball over 60 times the moment he got into a preseason game, but he showed up to camp fat. Christ. This is a team that had Tim Tebow listed as one of their QBs last season, and yet somehow they are now worse off.
Your fantasy player everyone will hate: Chris Ivory. This is who the Jets signed to replace the perennially disappointing Shonn Greene. If you've ever picked up Chris Ivory off of waivers (and you have), you know that he's the kind of back that can get you five yards a carry if you happen to have a historically prolific passing attack keeping defenses from crowding the box. The Jets do not have that. They have the opposite of that. Every time Ivory carries the ball, he will experience deep, deep pangs of regret. Bilal Powell is already primed to take his job. "Bilal" sounds like a way of preparing lamb on a stick.
Why your team sucks: Let's do a little thought exercise. Pretend the Jets never existed. Go ahead. It's quite easy to do. Imagine an NFL with just 31 teams and only one franchise in New York. Now, imagine that an expansion group led by the shiftless, fame-whoring scion of a pharmaceutical company proposes the following to the NFL: "We're gonna have a SECOND team in New York! It'll play in the same stadium as the Giants, be horribly mismanaged, and will have the same kind of asshole fans as the Giants (NOTE: white bridge-and-tunnel trash assholes from Long Island and Queens and Jersey all like to pretend they're different breeds of asshole, but they are not), just far less of them."
Do you think the Ginger Hammer would accept that proposal? Of course not. He'd put a team in London and then demand the Brits stop paying national health care. The Jets don't need to exist. In fact, they are actively harmful. The Jets are the NFL's ruptured appendix. We've made fun of star-crossed franchises like the Browns and Lions and Bills here, but the Jets—who somehow managed to WIN a Super Bowl at one point—and unquestionably the laughingstock of the NFL. Not only do they lose, but they lose in the tackiest way possible. Their fans are insecure morons and their players are somehow even dumber. What purpose do they serve other than to hold themselves up for merciless ridicule?
It gets even worse if you look past the fact that the Jets are using a lame duck head coach and lame duck QB for the second straight season. Even if you factor in an injured, washed-up Santonio Holmes, there is no one for the GENOCHISE to throw to. Stud rookie CB Dee Milliner is already nursing a calf injury. The front seven is aging and there are no good young players to waiting in the wings at linebacker or defensive line. The Jets are a team that is never completely rebuilding and never completely refining—they remain an odd mix of overpriced veteran talent and iffy young talent, like the pre-Melo Knicks. They are doomed to lose 10 games a year while laboring under the delusion that they have a stacked roster. And now Darrelle Revis is gone for good. This team should have been blown up two years ago. That they remain intact is not a testament to their determination but rather a glaring indictment of their stupidity.
Also, fuck Chris Berman for whenever he sang "Vinny & The Jets." The worst.
Why your team doesn't suck: Everything is so convinced that they're gonna suck that maybe, just maybe, they WON'T suck. The NFL works like that sometimes, right? Well, I mean, it works that way for teams that aren't the Jets.
The 17 worst Jets ever:
1) Rich Kotite. They made him coach and GM. Never forget.
2) Vernon Gholston
3) Neil O'Donnell. O'Donnell, Kellen Clemens, Rick Mirer, and Quincy Carter (!!!!) have all started games for the Jets. That is a rough foursome. Keep in mind that Sanchez has been WAY more productive than any of those men.
4) Dewayne Robertson. He can't miss! CAN'T MISS DINNER, THAT IS! ***RIMSHOT***
5) Scott Frost
6) Keyshawn Johnson/Alex Van Dyke. Drafted together. Never ever draft wideouts in the first two rounds.
8) Bubby Brister
10) Ryan Yarborough
11) Marvin Jones
12) Browning Nagle. The Nagler!
13) Blair Thomas
14) Glenn Foley
15) Lou Holtz
16) Justin McCareins. I swear he was a fantasy sleeper once. That's how stupid fantasy football will make you.
17) Sam Cowart
Emails from Jets fans!
Fuck Mo Lewis. Thanks for spawning Tom fucking Brady, dickhead.
They desperately needed a WR. They drafted, in order, CB, DT, QB, G, T, DT (again), and FB. But hey, they signed Ben Obomanu from the Seahawks. He had FOUR receptions last year!
After losing LaRon Landry, they signed his brother Dawon Landry. When they lose him next year, I can only assume the Jets will sign the next Landry brother who fits the rhyme scheme.
The Butt Fumble changed my involvement as a fan. Before, I was disheartened, disappointed, let down by the hope of two AFC championship appearances. Now, I'm reinvigorated, excited to see how terrible this season will be. It's like reading about Amanda Bynes, or seeing Donald Trump get elected President. It's better than actual sports. It's a full-fledged rebellion against sanity and rationality.
One day, when the dying vestiges of our culture raise up a flag in surrender to the greater forces of the future, I hope that flag has Mark Sanchez colliding into another man's butt on it.
I spent all of last season screaming that Geno Smith was in no way an NFL Quarterback and that any team that drafted him was stupid. Now, because Sanchez is such a bumbling buffoon, I've spent the summer convincing myself that Geno Smith is good and that he needs to be our future.
I hate this team.
The only way for Sanchez to get over the butt fumble is to kill another human being. And I don't mean Hernandez-style execution, I mean an erratic pass that hits an innocent bystander in a nationally televised game.
Friday is Not Top 10 day on Sportscenter. As is the valued tradition on Not Top 10, that weeks' number 1 play goes up for a vote as the worst of the worst against the reigning champion, which of course since Thanksgiving of 2012 is the Mark Sanchez Butt Fumble.
I'm in a Manhattan bar with my college buddies and I am all alone as the only miserable self-loathing Jet fan. My friends sense the Butt Fumble highlight the moment the first beers are poured. The anticipation builds through lunch and towards the final ten minutes of SportsCenter when the Not Top 10 segment airs.
When it begins, the tension in the air thickens, and the abuse hurled my way builds. By the mid-way point, most of them just start aimlessly shouting "BUTTFUMBLE!" at the TV like a bunch of rabid hyenas on Adderall. Even though I know for certain the Butt Fumble highlight is coming, for some reason I still think maybe this week will end differently. Kind of like when I watch the replay of Charles Smith getting blocked by Pippen 14 times in a row. But of course, we reach the end, and there is Sanchez under center. And the pure unfiltered joy of my asshole friends screaming in excitement fills the air.
Fans want the entire team traded for a bag of pubes anytime there's an incompletion. The Whole New York fans being the most passionate and knowledgeable is a myth. What we are primarily is whiny, irrational, impatient, and overly emotional. Everything is a crisis and the end of the world.
I'm a Jets fan: an irrational and self-loathing man whose only joy in life is to blame my problems on other people.
It's tough being the worst team in a city with 8 other sports team. We're even worse than the fucking Islanders and the Mets.
Geno Smith averaged 1.4 yards per carry in college.
In 2010 the Jets blew a 16-point fourth quarter lead and found themselves down 4 with 59 seconds left. After Houston went ahead, my dad left the stadium to walk to the car, and if you didn't have a seat in the lower bowl, they made you park basically at the Hudson because the Jets run a fucking caste system. I stayed to watch the end because I am a masochist.
The Jets came back on a flawless drive from Sanchez in what was one of my favorite Jets games I had been to in my 20 seasons of being the son of a season ticket holder. I ran to the car and everyone leaving the game was stoked that we won a huge game in our push for the playoffs in year 2 of the thrilling and exciting Rex/Sanchez era.
When I get to the car however, I see my dad has a scowl still on his face. When I ask him why he isn't excited he gives the most Jets-fan response one can give.
"It doesn't matter that they won this game, they should have fucking lost. And if we should have fucking lost this game, somehow the universe will find a way to bust our balls even worse this season. So fuck this win, it'll just haunt us later. And now were gonna sit in an hour's worth of traffic because you wanted to watch that shitty team."
The Jets are in perfect position to land Jadaveon Clowney. We have no quarterback, no wide receivers, no discernible running game, we traded away our best corner, and our linebackers are aging fast. We are in perfect position to go 0-16; however, don't be surprised when we end this season on a 3-game winning streak to finish 5-11 so that way we can be out of the running for anyone useful and end up with Sammy Watkins to add to our collection of asshole receivers who create locker room headaches.
Our team plays in a giant toaster.
Our fat coach has a tattoo of our soon to be backup QB on his body.
We sold low on the most talented player in franchise history.
REX RYAN'S FUCKING TEETH. Have you seen those things? They're brighter than the goddamn sun. It's like staring into the Ark of the Covenant from Indiana Jones, which I would rather do than watch this dumpster fire of a team.
1. We are the only team that the fake spike has worked against.
2. Our backup plan for our Super Bowl run in 1999 was Rick Mirer.
3. The most successful coach of this generation quit on a cocktail napkin on his first day of work.
4. Our most famous player (Namath) hates the team and makes the Hoff look like a member of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union.
5. Our present-day QB banged Kate Upton and is still a fucking loser.
6. Our fans. There are no worse people to be near at a sporting event than Jets fans. They are beyond trash. They are racist, coked-up losers, power drinking in the lot to blind themselves to the fact that they are bigger losers than the franchise they root for.
Fuck Jay Z.
Fuck Doug Brien.
During the championship game vs the Steelers I sat next to two girl Jets fans. In -5 degree weather, they chose to wear just jeans, a jersey, and a jacket. And the whole game they whined about the cold.
Kyle Brady over Warren Sapp.
The last time the Jets were in a Super Bowl, we hadn’t even landed on the moon yet.
Fuck this team.
Mark Sanchez might be a worse quarterback than most junior college dropouts, but he’s making $8.25 million to suck and he’s seen Kate Upton naked so fuck me.
Every year there was always this overweight slob with a jet black mustache who sat in row 1 and listened to the game on the radio because he WAS A REAL FAN!!!!!!!! My father had a name for this man, "Fat Asshole."
Every season, Fat Asshole would be in his seat, already piss drunk when me and my father would arrive. Every year my father would pray that Fat Asshole wouldn't be there, but every year, there he was. The look on my poor dad's face, who just wanted to share a special moment with his first born child (a near impossible feat on Sundays at The Meadowlands) at an NFL football game, when he saw this man became more and more disheartening as the years went along.
At this Jets-Dolphins game in '99, Fat Asshole was debuting his new Ray Lucas jersey because RAY'S TRUE JERSEY GUY!!!!!!!! Late in the fourth, Lucas threw a long touchdown pass and Fat Asshole began leaning over the railing screaming in a wave of drunkenly pathetic joy. You could see that his fat belly was beginning to slowly creep over the railing as he continued to lean further and further forward, eventually falling over the railing. My father grabbed him by the legs and along with the help of a few others, saved Fat Asshole's life.
My father and I saw Fat Asshole in his same seat every year after that until they tore down Giants Stadium. He never once thanked him. He did, however, wear his now "lucky" Ray Lucas jersey to every game since that day and let everyone in the section know all about how his "lucky" Ray Lucas jersey saved his life.
Fuck Fat Asshole.
Fuck the Jets.
Being a Jets fan is like declaring that Rob Schneider is your favorite actor.
Last year the team's owner said that Mitt Romney winning the White House was more important than the Jets having a winning season.
People seriously think that if Rex Ryan gained all his weight back, we'd be good again.
The offense has been a fucking nightmare factory for the past 5 years.
Darelle Revis, a walking, breathing contract hold-out of a human being, signed a deal with the Bucs for NO GUARANTEED MONEY just to get the fuck out of New York.
Rex Ryan used to be great but John Idzik and Woody Johnson have removed his balls and locked them in a safe. Our most popular player was traded to our Week 1 opponent.
Fucf this team. Fuck our imaginary rivalries with the Patriots and Giants. Fuck Woody Johnson. Fuck Rex Ryan. Fuck Mark Sanchez. Fuck ESPN for talking about this team all the time and still keeping Herm Edwards employed. Fuck Mike Tannenbaum. Fuck Joe Namath and his dick-riding fans who weren’t even alive to see him play.
I was in Italy with my wife for our honeymoon earlier this year. At the Vatican museum there was a small group of young twenty-somethings that included a guy in a Giants t-shirt. He had an athlete's build, was handsome and had a hot blonde on his arm. Walking behind them was a guy in a Jets hat. He was gangly, pimples, buck-teeth and never looked up from the ground.
As a fellow Jets fan, and I wanted to give him a hug and tell him that it gets better. But we both would have known that is a fucking lie.
CAN'T WAIT for an anonymous source to bash the inner-working of the Jets organization, as if it takes inside info to figure that shit out.
The Jets have included a handbook in this year's season tickets packages giving the fans instructions on how to perform the Jets chant. It's four letters!
Last year, Woody had to buy out the stadium to avoid a blackout for multiple games. In New York. And it's already starting again. PSLs are selling for pennies on the dollar, and the Jets keep sending out ads for $50 seasons tickets because, now that they've pushed most of the old season's ticket holders out, nobody wants to pile into the glaring monstrosity that is the New Meadowlands to watch a bunch of Johnny-come-latelies stare silently at our team. And the most depressing part of it all is that we now actually have to rely on Fireman Ed, because otherwise nobody cheers at all anymore.
I was working in a supermarket on Long Island in the mid 1980s. Summertime. I look down the aisle, and in walks Mark Gastineau - fucking musclebound self-loving douche who has on his arm this giant blonde woman who I think may have been the actress Brigitte Nielsen. At least it looked like her.
Anyway, he saunters around the store and of course all the female cashiers are just drooling huge puddles around the Sack Dance creator. He gets in line with Brigitte, who is purchasing supplies for what I assume is a day out on a boat. He cuts in front of her, grabs a People Magazine, waves it in the face of both the cashier and an assistant manager and bellows, "Are you going to make me pay for it?" Neither employee says a word, and the guy who blew our chance to go to the AFC Championship game in 1986 by spearing Bernie Fucking Kosar 12 seconds after the whistle skipped out the store with his free magazine. I should have called the cops.
Jets fans are the most miserable fucking people on the planet. Go to a Giants game. You'll see a packed stadium full of generally upbeat people that cheer their team, root against the opposition, and stay positive about the outlook of the franchise. Now go to a Jets game. The upper deck will be half empty. The fans that are present will be insanely intoxicated and screaming vulgarities at the opposition, the Jets, each other, and any other living organism that enters their field of vision. I have often wondered if Jets fans actually want to see the Jets win a Super Bowl. They wouldn't know what to do with themselves.
Every Jet fan's favorite person is Rudy Giulani.
The NY Media have created the narrative of "NY Jets are a clusterfuck circus" because there is no other way to sell coverage about a team so overwhelmingly mediocre and boring to watch. Pseudo-reporters like Manish Mehta construct "turmoil in the locker room" with all of the anonymous sources he can pull out of his ass because there is absolutely no other way to sell a team that has a decent defense and a moribund offense three years removed from an AFC Championship game. This season, they're essentially the Cleveland Browns if the Cleveland Browns played in the largest media market in the world.
I was at the Buttfumble game last Thanksgiving and it was the single worst sporting event I've ever been to.
And, fuck Rich Kotite with a stick.
We have a quarterback who fumbles by running into his own lineman's butt (who's now injured) and a guy who runs right out the back of our own endzone. Honestly, I'm tired of being a Jets fan.
The selling point to this stadium was that you can take the "train" there. Well, that's great, except that they stop running 25 minutes after the game, then run approximately once every 2 hours after that. Take 82,000 fans who just watched their franchise "quarterback" butt-fumble away respectability, mix in the last copter out of Saigon, and add a dash of a casting call to fuck Snooki in all 7 of her holes and you get the idea. It's a long, long, ride back into Penn Station. The alcohol wears off and you start you wonder why you wasted a beautiful autumn day being angry.
You wanna know the best part about being a Jets fan? It's knowing that my GREATEST football memory in life, when Mo Lewis destroyed Drew Bledsoe, is intrinsically connected to my WORST football memory in life, which is everything that fucking Tom Brady has ever done.
I don't get excited for the new season so much as I mentally fortify myself to endure the season.
I was at the buttfumble game, and right before halftime the NBC halftime crew started setting up on the field, behind the Jets sideline. Fucking Rodney Harrison, the "objective" commentator, starts trash talking all the Jets fans and pointing to the scoreboard. He was looking for a fight, but we all just nodded in agreement. Yeah, we suck Rodney. We know. Now keep on pretending you didn't play for a team of fucking cheaters.
Fuck our fans. No, seriously. FUCK. OUR. FANS.
I was born and raised in the California Bay Area, but my family came from New Jersey. Growing up on Sundays my older brother would root for the Jets. Fifth grade came and I was finally an NFL fan. First game I attend: Opening day at Candlestick Park versus the Niners. Jets force overtime with a FG as time expires. In overtime they pin the Niners on their own four yard line.
First play, handoff to Garrison Hearst for 96 yards and the touchdown. As the shit is poured onto us by Niner fans, one comes up to us and sincerely says, "That Glenn Foley sure looked good, you guys will have a great season." I should have become a fan of any other team at that time.
The architect of MetLife stadium had to be a Patriots fan, intentionally making it so any audible sound leaves the stadium instantly while the swirling winds stay trapped in.
I started a conversation with Greg Buttle, former Jets LB and radio broadcaster, at a 4th of July party a few weeks ago. I found out Rex Ryan wanted to take RUSSELL WILSON instead of STEPHEN HILL in the second round of last year's draft. But hey...That's why we had Tannenbaum there to overrule him, right?
After giving up 35 points in like a minute and a half, my 91 year old grandmother turned to me and with a straight face said, "Hey, that was slightly faster than usual", and went to bed.
I think this photo sums it up pretty well:
Wanna be part of the Deadspin NFL previews? It's simple. Just email me and give me ample evidence of why your team sucks: personal anecdotes, encounters with fans, etc. I'll throw any good material into the post and give you proper credit. Next team up: New England Patriots.