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Mike White Fan Fiction


DireJet

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I’ll preface with saying that this is good-natured fun. Don’t take it so seriously and enjoy. I had fun writing it. We need to live in fantasy land because reality is far too grim for us Jets fans … now enjoy the fantasy!

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The rain was biblical — almost like there was a broken sprinkler way up in the clouds that would not shut off. The line between swamp and land had already been blurred beyond recognition — a usual occurrence in the predictably unhabitable swath of territory known as East Rutherford.

Bobby Saleh soaked it all in as he tromped up and down the stairs in the 300-level of MetLife Stadium. His Nikes were little more than glorified sponges at this point. 

This was it for Bobby and his New York Jets. The Jets, saddled with a middling record of 7-7, were still in the playoff hunt but sinking like Jimmy Hoffa's corpse. 

A few hours remained before kickoff against an ascending Jaguars team looking to make a statement in a marquee primetime game. Bobby could feel the pressure starting to build in his forehead as he finished up the ritualistic workout. The grim reality was no longer escapable: Only a 3-0 end to the season would likely end a disgraceful 11-year playoff drought for the Jets and their loyal fans. 

Bobby eventually made his way back into the bowels of MetLife Stadium, greeting players and coaches as they arrived at the locker room. The rain was not letting up and the soothing sounds of the drops pinging off MetLife's metal flanges did little to soothe his creeping anxiety and dread. 

As Bobby leaned back in his office chair behind a closed door, he got a text from an Alpine, NJ-based number.

"Miracles happen, Bobby. #5 won't die tonight. I'll put my entire medical career on it. Win the ******* game."

Bobby, feeling a rush of excitement and disbelief, immediately texted a MetLife operations employee.

"Cut the ******* lights, Tony. It's time."

The locker room lights went out in an instant. The silence was absolutely deafening. The opening bars of the song below cut through the tension like a knife:
 

A single flashlight then appeared in a long hallway leading into the locker room. The faint click-clack of cleats could be heard as the song blasted louder and louder.
 
"It's a ******* ghost!" cried Jeremy Ruckert. "My dad told me the Jets were cursed! He's been rooting for this sh*t show for way too long!" 

"I murder ghosts on the weekend for sport, bruh," a hunched-over Michael Clemons mumbled.

A #5 jersey shone in the flashlight and slowly panned up revealing a razor-sharp high fade and a smiling Mike White.

The song blared louder and the locker room went absolutely bonkers. Quincy Williams did a double back flip and it's rumored that Greg the Leg actually levitated higher than a Braden Mann punt. The energy in the room was enough to take out an entire city block. This was handle-with-*******-care, pure dynamite, dangerous stuff.

"NO ******* LEAKS! NO ******* LEAKS!" Bobby screamed over the unbridled screams, basking in the pure euphoria of the moment. 

With the pregame clock ticking down, the fans at home and, more importantly, in the stadium, were unaware of what was about to go down. 

The song below started to blare over the stadium speakers as players huddled in the tunnel leading out to the field. 
 

Bobby approached #5 and delivered a simple message: "YOUR ******* TIME MIKE. YOUR ******* TIME."

Mike slowly made his way out of the tunnel, his teammates still behind waiting to blast off ... 

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For the first time since it was constructed over a decade ago, a staid MetLife Stadium came alive. A wall of noise rose up like a tsunami, crashing down as Gang Green flooded onto the turf. The still-falling raindrops vibrated from a sonic boom of energy, creating an atomic moment that will be spoken about long after this hunk-of-tin stadium is reduced to rubble. 

And that, kids, was the precursor to the Jets beating the Jaguars, 35-7. They went on to win a hard-fought 24-17 game at Seattle and outlasted the Dolphins, 35-27, down in Miami behind their very own South Florida King. The 11-year drought was over. 
 
The playoffs were next.

To be continued ...
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