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It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year


Maxman

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As I sit here on the eve of training camp watching the Yankees take on the Rays in a tight division race I dream of watching my beloved Jets take the field, first on Hard Knocks and then for real…

I dream of being treated to Rex Ryan’s daily press conferences on the Jets’ website, providing us with laughs and getting us pumped in his inimitable style.

I dream of Mark Sanchez continuing his maturation into the QB we’ve been waiting for since Broadway Joe shocked the world.

I dream of Darrelle Revis being simply brilliant.

I dream of Nick Mangold being simply beastly.

I dream of Shonn Greene hitting the hole like his life depends on it.

I dream of D’Brickashaw Ferguson continuing to just keep getting better and better.

I dream of Dustin Keller finally putting it all together.

I dream of Jerricho Cotchery being his usual quietly consistent self.

I dream of Braylon Edwards making amazing circus catches.

I dream of Santonio Holmes breaking games wide open with big plays.

I dream of Tony Richardson blowing up linebackers for Greene.

I dream of Ladanian Tomlinson scoring lots of touchdowns.

I dream of Brandon Moore being his usual underrated self.

I dream of Kris Jenkins tossing around centers like ragdolls.

I dream of Shaun Ellis making plays an old man isn’t supposed to make.

I dream of Bart Scott blowing through a gap and pulling down a running back in the backfield.

I dream of David Harris making plays all over the damn place.

I dream of Jim Leonhard just being good.

I dream of Antonio Cromartie making pick sixes.

I dream of Kyle Wilson blanketing the slot.

I dream of Brad Smith making plays out of nowhere.

I even dream of Jason Taylor sacking quarterbacks.

I dream of Dallas in February.

I dream of big silver trophies.

I dream… and then I smile.

It’s football season.

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I dreamed a dream in time gone by

When hope was high

And life worth living

I dreamed that love would never die

I dreamed that God would be forgiving

Then I was young and unafraid

And dreams were made and used and wasted

There was no ransom to be paid

No song unsung, no wine untasted

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