How I became a Jets fan Thread..

[SouthernJet]

off season fun..

 

For me, it was 1964 I was 12 and moved from Buffalo to Waldwick, NJ. We went to Bills games and my Dad knew I missed football. In those days you only saw 1 game a week and therefore no more Bills games for me in NJ. Fols alo must realize in those days you couldnt even read about your team, no internet LOL. Knowing I missed the games (my Dad wasnt a NUT for football) he started getting tickets for Jets games to help me adjust to new city etc. This was also the Namath era an dlike most 12-13 year olds I thought he was cool. So the mix of going to Jets games, reading baout them daily in Bergen Record and Namath started my now 50 years as a Jets fan.

I just always thought cool I became a Jets fan cause my Dad (sadly passed too soon in 1976) knew I missed football so he 'made it happen'

 

Side Bar:

I also made my 2 sons jets fans and if I had a nickel for every time they jokingly said "Dad, why the hell did you put this curse of being a Jets fan on us', I'd be rich..

 

[GKnight83]

My Father was a Raider fan.  One night, while watching a game on tv I decided there was something wrong with my Father not rooting for the NY team, so I started rooting for them.  When the Raiders lost my Father just smiled and told me he and his buddy had planned a trip to Miami but since the Raiders lost he would take me instead.  If I had only known....   

[Thor99]

I hate the Jets, just like everyone else here.

[SayNoToDMC]

My father, who I hate

[New York Mick]

God hates me

[Il Mostro]

I hate the Jets, just like everyone else here.

 

 

It's the inescapable self-loathing factor...

[SoFlaJets]

Rich and I are about the same age and the truth was, in 1968 The Metropolitan area was starved for another sports star. While The Mick was on his last legs-literally, and Willis Reed and Walt Frazier weren't  there yet as well as any other Yankee or Mets player being on that level? Fugeddabowdit. So Joe Namath WAS that star. 

 

Back in those days, The Yanks were crap, the Giants were crap, and the Knicks and Mets were still a year away So there was only one teams in 1968; The New York Jets and they were everywhere. That's why I say I hope I get to see the Jets win another Championship because the only comparison to what it was like, there were two; The Miracle Mets of '69 that city went wild and the Yanks first Championship since the 60's in 1977.

 

If the Jets ever do get the Gods back on their side you guys will see something that we only got a passing glimpse of right after that New England win up in Foxboro and "Can't Wait" the city will go crazy unlike anything that we ever saw from any of the Giants Championships.

 

So yea SJ, for me it was that season and the run up to the Super Bowl win-great days to be a Jets fan for sure 

[Gastineau Lives]

Started watching football during 1981 playoffs. Richard Todd interception at two yard line to get eliminated by Bills. I was hooked. I should have known.

[faba]

My father was a Jets fan so it was natural fro me to grow up watching the games with him,

[Latinlawyer]

Started Watching the Jets in the early 80's and loved the Sack exchange. They killed me early on with the Mud Bowl and the Cleveland Browns playoff game where a sack dance cost us the game. Been a LONG LONG suffering Jets fan.

 

LL

[Klecko73isGod]

I wrote this for my Mom's birthday a few years ago:

 

Welcome to the hell that is my life.

This past Sunday was basically a microcosm of all of our lives. Our hope, our confidence, our swagger, our love all crushed over the span of three hours.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those “woe-is-me” types and I do not subscribe to the “same old Jets” philosophy that seems to be based on the notion that things that happened 25 years ago have some bearing on the current team’s performance.

But since today is my mother’s birthday, and it is her fault I am a Jets fan, I must address my crummy life as a fan of this team and the role this woman played in it.

My mother took me to my first game in that late 70s and we went to many from that point on but the first game I really remember vividly was on November 29, 1981 at Shea Stadium against the Baltimore Colts. I was 10 years old and I saw the Jets win their fifth straight game 25-0 en route to an 11-5 season, their first playoff berth since 1969 and becoming the first team ever to start the season 0-3 and make the playoffs.

I was HOOKED.

Freeman McNeil ran for two TDs, Pat Leahy kicked four FGs and the New York Sack Exchange abused Baltimore QB Bert Jones to the tune of five sacks. They were magnificent. To a 10-year-old boy, this was the greatest football team on the planet.

But despite the excitement of that day and the satisfaction of finally returning to the postseason, 1981 ended like every other Jets season the last forty years, with disappointment as the Jets lost to the Buffalo Bills in the Wildcard Game and failure to reach the ultimate goal.

So many times, the Jets have raised our expectations only to pull the rug out from undar us. So many times we felt like the Jets were on the verge of turning the corner only to have our hearts ripped out through our throats.

1982 and the Mud Bowl. 1986 and the 9-game winning streak, followed by the 5-game losing streak. 1998 and the second half of the AFC Championship Game and that steroid-addled jerk Bill Romanowski.

Just what kind of sick child abuse was this woman inflicting on me by dressing me in green and white all those Sundays?

And then came this past Sunday.

We rebuilt both lines, found a bunch of pass rushers (and revitalized a few others,) we got Brett Favre for goodness sakes. They didn’t have Tom Brady and were starting a guy who hadn’t started a game since he was in high school nearly a decade ago. This was our moment. The time the Jets were finally going to step up and announce their presence to the world.

But alas, it didn’t happen. The Jets played uninspired football and lost badly to a team they should have beat.

But unlike a lot of my fellow Jets fans, I am not going to jump off the ledge and you want to know why?

Because of my Mother.

My Mommy. The woman who took me to so many games. The woman who would warm me on cold days in Shea and then the Meadowlands with beef broth spiked with vodka. The woman who would explain that the funny smelling cigarettes that so many fans around us at Shea were smoking were “special.” The woman who would not allow me to go to the bathroom at Shea after halftime for fear that I might drown in urine in the overflowed bathrooms. The woman who would celebrate the Jets triumphs with me and the woman who would squeeze me tightly when I would be close to tears over a loss as a child and tell me that “to be a Jets fan is to be an eternal optimist.”

My Mother made me a Jets fan and it made me tough. My Mother made me a Jets fan and it made me learn and love the game more than I ever could rooting for another one.

My Mother, who is the reason I wasn’t suicidal Sunday night because I understand that it’s only one of sixteen and the optimism she fostered in me forced me to look for the positives and I know we will get better.

My Mother, who made me a Jets fan.

My Mom. The Greatest Woman who ever lived!

Thank you Mom, Happy Birthday.

And GO JETS!!!

[SoFlaJets]

I wrote this for my Mom's birthday a few years ago:

 

Welcome to the hell that is my life.

This past Sunday was basically a microcosm of all of our lives. Our hope, our confidence, our swagger, our love all crushed over the span of three hours.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those “woe-is-me” types and I do not subscribe to the “same old Jets” philosophy that seems to be based on the notion that things that happened 25 years ago have some bearing on the current team’s performance.

But since today is my mother’s birthday, and it is her fault I am a Jets fan, I must address my crummy life as a fan of this team and the role this woman played in it.

My mother took me to my first game in that late 70s and we went to many from that point on but the first game I really remember vividly was on November 29, 1981 at Shea Stadium against the Baltimore Colts. I was 10 years old and I saw the Jets win their fifth straight game 25-0 en route to an 11-5 season, their first playoff berth since 1969 and becoming the first team ever to start the season 0-3 and make the playoffs.

I was HOOKED.

Freeman McNeil ran for two TDs, Pat Leahy kicked four FGs and the New York Sack Exchange abused Baltimore QB Bert Jones to the tune of five sacks. They were magnificent. To a 10-year-old boy, this was the greatest football team on the planet.

But despite the excitement of that day and the satisfaction of finally returning to the postseason, 1981 ended like every other Jets season the last forty years, with disappointment as the Jets lost to the Buffalo Bills in the Wildcard Game and failure to reach the ultimate goal.

So many times, the Jets have raised our expectations only to pull the rug out from undar us. So many times we felt like the Jets were on the verge of turning the corner only to have our hearts ripped out through our throats.

1982 and the Mud Bowl. 1986 and the 9-game winning streak, followed by the 5-game losing streak. 1998 and the second half of the AFC Championship Game and that steroid-addled jerk Bill Romanowski.

Just what kind of sick child abuse was this woman inflicting on me by dressing me in green and white all those Sundays?

And then came this past Sunday.

We rebuilt both lines, found a bunch of pass rushers (and revitalized a few others,) we got Brett Favre for goodness sakes. They didn’t have Tom Brady and were starting a guy who hadn’t started a game since he was in high school nearly a decade ago. This was our moment. The time the Jets were finally going to step up and announce their presence to the world.

But alas, it didn’t happen. The Jets played uninspired football and lost badly to a team they should have beat.

But unlike a lot of my fellow Jets fans, I am not going to jump off the ledge and you want to know why?

Because of my Mother.

My Mommy. The woman who took me to so many games. The woman who would warm me on cold days in Shea and then the Meadowlands with beef broth spiked with vodka. The woman who would explain that the funny smelling cigarettes that so many fans around us at Shea were smoking were “special.” The woman who would not allow me to go to the bathroom at Shea after halftime for fear that I might drown in urine in the overflowed bathrooms. The woman who would celebrate the Jets triumphs with me and the woman who would squeeze me tightly when I would be close to tears over a loss as a child and tell me that “to be a Jets fan is to be an eternal optimist.”

My Mother made me a Jets fan and it made me tough. My Mother made me a Jets fan and it made me learn and love the game more than I ever could rooting for another one.

My Mother, who is the reason I wasn’t suicidal Sunday night because I understand that it’s only one of sixteen and the optimism she fostered in me forced me to look for the positives and I know we will get better.

My Mother, who made me a Jets fan.

My Mom. The Greatest Woman who ever lived!

Thank you Mom, Happy Birthday.

And GO JETS!!!

and if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him...Bill GEORGE ANYTHING BUT SUE!!!!

[Latinlawyer]

I wrote this for my Mom's birthday a few years ago:

 

Welcome to the hell that is my life.

This past Sunday was basically a microcosm of all of our lives. Our hope, our confidence, our swagger, our love all crushed over the span of three hours.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those “woe-is-me” types and I do not subscribe to the “same old Jets” philosophy that seems to be based on the notion that things that happened 25 years ago have some bearing on the current team’s performance.

But since today is my mother’s birthday, and it is her fault I am a Jets fan, I must address my crummy life as a fan of this team and the role this woman played in it.

My mother took me to my first game in that late 70s and we went to many from that point on but the first game I really remember vividly was on November 29, 1981 at Shea Stadium against the Baltimore Colts. I was 10 years old and I saw the Jets win their fifth straight game 25-0 en route to an 11-5 season, their first playoff berth since 1969 and becoming the first team ever to start the season 0-3 and make the playoffs.

I was HOOKED.

Freeman McNeil ran for two TDs, Pat Leahy kicked four FGs and the New York Sack Exchange abused Baltimore QB Bert Jones to the tune of five sacks. They were magnificent. To a 10-year-old boy, this was the greatest football team on the planet.

But despite the excitement of that day and the satisfaction of finally returning to the postseason, 1981 ended like every other Jets season the last forty years, with disappointment as the Jets lost to the Buffalo Bills in the Wildcard Game and failure to reach the ultimate goal.

So many times, the Jets have raised our expectations only to pull the rug out from undar us. So many times we felt like the Jets were on the verge of turning the corner only to have our hearts ripped out through our throats.

1982 and the Mud Bowl. 1986 and the 9-game winning streak, followed by the 5-game losing streak. 1998 and the second half of the AFC Championship Game and that steroid-addled jerk Bill Romanowski.

Just what kind of sick child abuse was this woman inflicting on me by dressing me in green and white all those Sundays?

And then came this past Sunday.

We rebuilt both lines, found a bunch of pass rushers (and revitalized a few others,) we got Brett Favre for goodness sakes. They didn’t have Tom Brady and were starting a guy who hadn’t started a game since he was in high school nearly a decade ago. This was our moment. The time the Jets were finally going to step up and announce their presence to the world.

But alas, it didn’t happen. The Jets played uninspired football and lost badly to a team they should have beat.

But unlike a lot of my fellow Jets fans, I am not going to jump off the ledge and you want to know why?

Because of my Mother.

My Mommy. The woman who took me to so many games. The woman who would warm me on cold days in Shea and then the Meadowlands with beef broth spiked with vodka. The woman who would explain that the funny smelling cigarettes that so many fans around us at Shea were smoking were “special.” The woman who would not allow me to go to the bathroom at Shea after halftime for fear that I might drown in urine in the overflowed bathrooms. The woman who would celebrate the Jets triumphs with me and the woman who would squeeze me tightly when I would be close to tears over a loss as a child and tell me that “to be a Jets fan is to be an eternal optimist.”

My Mother made me a Jets fan and it made me tough. My Mother made me a Jets fan and it made me learn and love the game more than I ever could rooting for another one.

My Mother, who is the reason I wasn’t suicidal Sunday night because I understand that it’s only one of sixteen and the optimism she fostered in me forced me to look for the positives and I know we will get better.

My Mother, who made me a Jets fan.

My Mom. The Greatest Woman who ever lived!

Thank you Mom, Happy Birthday.

And GO JETS!!!

Dude that was beautiful. Your mom is awesome. My mom, who passed away in 2012, took me my brother and my Dad to Mets games in the 70's, 80's and 90's. She would do the wave, she would try and sing along to the 7th inning stretch song (English was her second language) and generally just enjoyed spending time with us. Moms who spend time with their kids, especially in sport, are awesome. Your mom sounds a lot like my mom. Once again, awesome post!

 

LL

[77DRAFT]

For me it's reverse, I became a jet fan in 1972, and my Dad, who forced to watch

the games on TV and take me to one game a year, eventually became a fan, rooting for

the Jets and against the Giants and eventually the Patriots.

Being a Jet fan requires such things, we get more joy out of the Patriots losing,

10 years without a title in NE, no video, no titles.

[Kevin L]

Grew up as a Giants fan, but my hero was Joe Montana. After that playoff game when Leonard Marshall destroyed Montana's elbow, I couldn't stand the Giants. Became a Jets fan after watching the Jets beat the Phins last game of the season to get the final playoff spot. '92 or '93 I believe.

[slowmoe57]

To be honest I have absolutly no idea. Just is thats all.

[SouthernJet]

To be honest I have absolutly no idea. Just is thats all.

have to stop smoking Breakfast and memory 'may' get better

[slowmoe57]

have to stop smoking Breakfast and memory 'may' get better

Stopped that many yeasrs ago. But if anything started when they finally started showing the Home games in the NY area. Mid 70s I guess. Loved watching the Shea crowd go wild,. 

[Matt39]

edit 

 

[BurnleyJet]

1982 the first year the NFL was played on English Tv. The strike season, and of course the mud bowl. The Sack Exchange, Freeman McNeil. It all looked good for a little while..

I've Only ever been to two live games, The fins in 2002 and The Chargers in 2011, 6600 mile round trip, some times it's like an abusive relationship, but no matter how bad they are, it's my cross and carry it with pride. Jets fandom is not for the weak nor the bandwagon jumpers!

[Gastineau Lives]

I wrote this for my Mom's birthday a few years ago:

 

Welcome to the hell that is my life.

This past Sunday was basically a microcosm of all of our lives. Our hope, our confidence, our swagger, our love all crushed over the span of three hours.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those “woe-is-me” types and I do not subscribe to the “same old Jets” philosophy that seems to be based on the notion that things that happened 25 years ago have some bearing on the current team’s performance.

But since today is my mother’s birthday, and it is her fault I am a Jets fan, I must address my crummy life as a fan of this team and the role this woman played in it.

My mother took me to my first game in that late 70s and we went to many from that point on but the first game I really remember vividly was on November 29, 1981 at Shea Stadium against the Baltimore Colts. I was 10 years old and I saw the Jets win their fifth straight game 25-0 en route to an 11-5 season, their first playoff berth since 1969 and becoming the first team ever to start the season 0-3 and make the playoffs.

I was HOOKED.

Freeman McNeil ran for two TDs, Pat Leahy kicked four FGs and the New York Sack Exchange abused Baltimore QB Bert Jones to the tune of five sacks. They were magnificent. To a 10-year-old boy, this was the greatest football team on the planet.

But despite the excitement of that day and the satisfaction of finally returning to the postseason, 1981 ended like every other Jets season the last forty years, with disappointment as the Jets lost to the Buffalo Bills in the Wildcard Game and failure to reach the ultimate goal.

So many times, the Jets have raised our expectations only to pull the rug out from undar us. So many times we felt like the Jets were on the verge of turning the corner only to have our hearts ripped out through our throats.

1982 and the Mud Bowl. 1986 and the 9-game winning streak, followed by the 5-game losing streak. 1998 and the second half of the AFC Championship Game and that steroid-addled jerk Bill Romanowski.

Just what kind of sick child abuse was this woman inflicting on me by dressing me in green and white all those Sundays?

And then came this past Sunday.

We rebuilt both lines, found a bunch of pass rushers (and revitalized a few others,) we got Brett Favre for goodness sakes. They didn’t have Tom Brady and were starting a guy who hadn’t started a game since he was in high school nearly a decade ago. This was our moment. The time the Jets were finally going to step up and announce their presence to the world.

But alas, it didn’t happen. The Jets played uninspired football and lost badly to a team they should have beat.

But unlike a lot of my fellow Jets fans, I am not going to jump off the ledge and you want to know why?

Because of my Mother.

My Mommy. The woman who took me to so many games. The woman who would warm me on cold days in Shea and then the Meadowlands with beef broth spiked with vodka. The woman who would explain that the funny smelling cigarettes that so many fans around us at Shea were smoking were “special.” The woman who would not allow me to go to the bathroom at Shea after halftime for fear that I might drown in urine in the overflowed bathrooms. The woman who would celebrate the Jets triumphs with me and the woman who would squeeze me tightly when I would be close to tears over a loss as a child and tell me that “to be a Jets fan is to be an eternal optimist.”

My Mother made me a Jets fan and it made me tough. My Mother made me a Jets fan and it made me learn and love the game more than I ever could rooting for another one.

My Mother, who is the reason I wasn’t suicidal Sunday night because I understand that it’s only one of sixteen and the optimism she fostered in me forced me to look for the positives and I know we will get better.

My Mother, who made me a Jets fan.

My Mom. The Greatest Woman who ever lived!

Thank you Mom, Happy Birthday.

And GO JETS!!!

 

Well done.

[JOJOTOWNSELL]

i became a Jet fan because of a Plain, manilla envelope in the mid-1980's......i would wait all summer for that envelope to show up in the mail.......it held the season tickets!  No one knew who we were going to play until they opened that envelope, we didn't have the internet to tell us......it was super exciting to see the uncut sheet of tickets and see who the hell we were going to play!  I remember always being pissed that we never had a home game against the Montana/Rice 49ers.......

[Matt39]

My father, who I hate

 

http://youtu.be/KE2WriEmH5c

[stugotz81]

My Dad as well.....and I just passed this life of torture along to my sons too.  Bleedin Green is not a choice is what Ive always been told growing up.  

[slats]

My parents were Giant fans. I'm a rebel. Joke's on me.

[Jetfan13]

My brother, who is 10 yrs older then me, returned from Viet Nam and was a Namath fan. Me, a young kid looking up to big brother, followed suit. Long story short, he gave up on the Jets over 20 yrs ago to root for, get this, Brian Sipe and the Browns. I never waivered. Thanx Brudda.

[Freemanm]

1981, when I was nine years old, the year of the Mudbowl. The Jets/Raiders in the playoffs. Jets were down 14-10 late in the game, Richard Todd threw a bomb to Wesley Walker with a minute left that Walker somehow caught in double coverage. Jets won 17-14. Thought it was the most exciting thing ever. I played football in high school because of that game. I remember crying when the Jets lost in the Mudbowl that year, as a nine year old, I thought the Jets should have won all the time - boy was I wrong. It's even more painful to think that the Klecko, Gastineau, Lyons and Salaam could have totally stuffed John Riggins in Superbowl 17 that year.

[jgb]

off season fun..

 

For me, it was 1964 I was 12 and moved from Buffalo to Waldwick, NJ. We went to Bills games and my Dad knew I missed football. In those days you only saw 1 game a week and therefore no more Bills games for me in NJ. Fols alo must realize in those days you couldnt even read about your team, no internet LOL. Knowing I missed the games (my Dad wasnt a NUT for football) he started getting tickets for Jets games to help me adjust to new city etc. This was also the Namath era an dlike most 12-13 year olds I thought he was cool. So the mix of going to Jets games, reading baout them daily in Bergen Record and Namath started my now 50 years as a Jets fan.

I just always thought cool I became a Jets fan cause my Dad (sadly passed too soon in 1976) knew I missed football so he 'made it happen'

 

Side Bar:

I also made my 2 sons jets fans and if I had a nickel for every time they jokingly said "Dad, why the hell did you put this curse of being a Jets fan on us', I'd be rich..

 

yeah thanks a lot for that.

 

i became a jet fan after we moved to NC when I was four. back in those days, you had to have one of the big satellite dishes to get the games. so my dad and i would scour all the sports bars in town looking for one willing to put the jets game on for us. a few years later we heard about a jets fan club in raleigh and started watching with them. so i've been a fan for over 20 years now. wow.

[eboozer]

Born March 1963 in Uniondale, NY about a 10 minute walk to Hofstra. When you're a 5 yr. old kid, Joe Willie was the greatest thing. The neighborhood was electric during those days.... unfortunately the neighborhood was turning to 5!it. By the time '72 rolled around my Pop, told the family " We're out of this stink hole, North Jersey here we come. Settled in Kinnelon, NJ. Everybody was a Giants fan in my neighborhood, but I stuck with the Jets. Was ecstatic when they moved to NJ even though those were dark years for the franchise. Lots of heartache, but I wouldn't trade them in for anything! All these clowns I've run into over the years rooting for Pitt. during their Championship years and they never stepped foot in Pa. and these NE fans who have no idea about the team other tham Tommy girl and Little bill.

 

Can't stand front runners, and will never be one. Why?... "Cause I'm a Jets Fan!!

[SouthernJet]

yeah thanks a lot for that.

 

i became a jet fan after we moved to NC when I was four. back in those days, you had to have one of the big satellite dishes to get the games. so my dad and i would scour all the sports bars in town looking for one willing to put the jets game on for us. a few years later we heard about a jets fan club in raleigh and started watching with them. so i've been a fan for over 20 years now. wow.

Poor Thomas

[jgb]

My brother, who is 10 yrs older then me, returned from Viet Nam and was a Namath fan. Me, a young kid looking up to big brother, followed suit. Long story short, he gave up on the Jets over 20 yrs ago to root for, get this, Brian Sipe and the Browns. I never waivered. Thanx Brudda.

 

typical jets fan. found the one and only thing worse than being a jet fan and went for it.

[jgb]

Poor Thomas

 

your daughter-in-law is a giants fan... he could go either way...

[T0mShane]

I wrote this for my Mom's birthday a few years ago:

Welcome to the hell that is my life.

This past Sunday was basically a microcosm of all of our lives. Our hope, our confidence, our swagger, our love all crushed over the span of three hours.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those “woe-is-me” types and I do not subscribe to the “same old Jets” philosophy that seems to be based on the notion that things that happened 25 years ago have some bearing on the current team’s performance.

But since today is my mother’s birthday, and it is her fault I am a Jets fan, I must address my crummy life as a fan of this team and the role this woman played in it.

My mother took me to my first game in that late 70s and we went to many from that point on but the first game I really remember vividly was on November 29, 1981 at Shea Stadium against the Baltimore Colts. I was 10 years old and I saw the Jets win their fifth straight game 25-0 en route to an 11-5 season, their first playoff berth since 1969 and becoming the first team ever to start the season 0-3 and make the playoffs.

I was HOOKED.

Freeman McNeil ran for two TDs, Pat Leahy kicked four FGs and the New York Sack Exchange abused Baltimore QB Bert Jones to the tune of five sacks. They were magnificent. To a 10-year-old boy, this was the greatest football team on the planet.

But despite the excitement of that day and the satisfaction of finally returning to the postseason, 1981 ended like every other Jets season the last forty years, with disappointment as the Jets lost to the Buffalo Bills in the Wildcard Game and failure to reach the ultimate goal.

So many times, the Jets have raised our expectations only to pull the rug out from undar us. So many times we felt like the Jets were on the verge of turning the corner only to have our hearts ripped out through our throats.

1982 and the Mud Bowl. 1986 and the 9-game winning streak, followed by the 5-game losing streak. 1998 and the second half of the AFC Championship Game and that steroid-addled jerk Bill Romanowski.

Just what kind of sick child abuse was this woman inflicting on me by dressing me in green and white all those Sundays?

And then came this past Sunday.

We rebuilt both lines, found a bunch of pass rushers (and revitalized a few others,) we got Brett Favre for goodness sakes. They didn’t have Tom Brady and were starting a guy who hadn’t started a game since he was in high school nearly a decade ago. This was our moment. The time the Jets were finally going to step up and announce their presence to the world.

But alas, it didn’t happen. The Jets played uninspired football and lost badly to a team they should have beat.

But unlike a lot of my fellow Jets fans, I am not going to jump off the ledge and you want to know why?

Because of my Mother.

My Mommy. The woman who took me to so many games. The woman who would warm me on cold days in Shea and then the Meadowlands with beef broth spiked with vodka. The woman who would explain that the funny smelling cigarettes that so many fans around us at Shea were smoking were “special.” The woman who would not allow me to go to the bathroom at Shea after halftime for fear that I might drown in urine in the overflowed bathrooms. The woman who would celebrate the Jets triumphs with me and the woman who would squeeze me tightly when I would be close to tears over a loss as a child and tell me that “to be a Jets fan is to be an eternal optimist.”

My Mother made me a Jets fan and it made me tough. My Mother made me a Jets fan and it made me learn and love the game more than I ever could rooting for another one.

My Mother, who is the reason I wasn’t suicidal Sunday night because I understand that it’s only one of sixteen and the optimism she fostered in me forced me to look for the positives and I know we will get better.

My Mother, who made me a Jets fan.

My Mom. The Greatest Woman who ever lived!

Thank you Mom, Happy Birthday.

And GO JETS!!!

You ganked your mom's birthday party to go on a diatribe about yourself? Total Brod move there.

[T0mShane]

As to the OP, I make consistently horrible life choices.

[jgb]

You ganked your mom's birthday party to go on a diatribe about yourself? Total Brod move there.

 

yeah, what a self-maker.