Same old Jets.
Seasons come and seasons go. As do players, coaches, owners, stadiums and Fireman Ed. Everything changes. Everything, except the Jets. For the past 45 years, they've remained the one New York team you can trust above all others to break your heart. (That's a pretty big achievement in a market that also houses the Mets and Knicks.)
This is an organization forever chasing its own shadow. Back in January of 1969, Joe Namath guaranteed victory over the powerhouse Baltimore Colts, then backed up his boast with a win that changed football forever. Super Bowl III can never be taken away from the franchise, but that conquest has had the adverse effect of adding extra sting to all that's followed.
Even Namath himself wasn't immune from the perverse funk that's lingered in the organization like a drunk Meadowlands tailgater who can't find his van. Namath's prime was significantly truncated by a string of injuries -- his body so beat up that a doctor told him he'd have the knees of a 70-year-old by the time he turned 40. (Sure enough, Namath eventually had both knees replaced.) Everyone knows Broadway Joe's finger pointed skyward at the Orange Bowl, but most don't realize the Jets had just one winning season for the rest of Namath's career in New York.
One popular bit of folklore has it that Namath signed a deal with the devil prior to Super Bowl III, trading a single momentous victory for an eternity of organizational suffering. This is kind of insane, sure, but not totally implausible when you look at the Jets since 1970. No Super Bowl trips, two division titles in 45 seasons and an 0-4 record in the AFC Championship Game. There's no post-Namath glory, only A.J. Duhe, O'Brien over Marino, Belichick's betrayal, third-and-6, the Butt Fumble, Doug Brien, Vernon Gholston, The One They Call Kotite and, yes, Tebowpainia.
Now how could the scaly, clawed mitt of the wretched Beelzebub not be somehow involved?
Full disclosure: I'm a Jets fan. I was at the Fake Spike Game, where I watched apoplectic fans tear up their Johnny Mitchell giveaway posters in protest as they exited Giants Stadium. I've had passionate arguments with my father about the relative merits of Ray Lucas. I named my dog Boomer after a quarterback who went 15-27 with the team. I bought multiple Chad Pennington jerseys under the sincere belief he was the AFC East's best quarterback (in a division with that Brady guy!).
Football is my business, but the Jets are personal. I like to think their perpetual failures have helped build my character on some level. At least that's what I tell myself as I wait for the Same Old Jets to crash and burn forever. Gang Green's eternal struggle lands them at No. 2 on the Pain Rankings.
Pain Résumé
Regular season record (all-time): 377-451-8
Playoff record (all-time): 12-13
Super Bowl wins: 1
Super Bowl appearances: 1 (none since 1968)
Patron Saint Of Pain: Bill Belichick
