Tag Archives: jets

Sean from Massapequa

Sean from Massapequa: I’m Done

Frequent Scratchbomb contributor Sean from Massapequa returns to recap the Jets’ disappointing loss in yet another AFC championship. I was a little nervous when I couldn’t get in touch with him right after the game, but his shift supervisor told me he was just taking his semi-annual one month paid vacation.

seanfrommassapequa.jpgI am done with this team. Absolutely done. Finished. Kaput. Ceased. Ended. Drawn to a close. Terminated. I’m so angry, I bought a thesaurus just so’s I could find new ways of sayin “done,” which is what I am.

You give so much to a team. You wear all their gear that your buddy who works at Modell’s threw in the backa your pickup. You go to every damn game, through thick and thin, good weather and bad, so long as your other buddy can sneak you into the Meadowlands through one of the service entrances. You go through the trouble of splittin your neighbor’s cable line so’s you can get Sunday Ticket.

And for what? Just so’s they can rip your heart again and again, and one or two further times. The time has come for me to say, enough. No more. That is all. I’m through…Sorry, but ever since I got this thesaurus, I can’t put it down. It’s quite riveting.

I ain’t no fair-weather fan, neither. Me and this team go way back. Me and my old man used to drive out to Shea every Sunday and whip empty airliners of Stoli at the opposing QB, and if necessary the Jets’ QB. Dad was never prouder of me than the day I brained Don Maynard with a D cell. And If dad couldn’t get a ticket, he’d fake a limp and say he was a wounded vet, and the ushers would just wave him in. That’s where I learned the value of hard work.

I know I said I was done in 1983, when the Jets couldn’t do a damn thing against those pretty boy Dolphins. I know I said I was done in 1986, when that pretty boy Gastineau roughed up Bernie Kosar. I know I said I was done in 1998, with all those damn turnovers in Denver givin pretty boy Elway his last hurrah. And I know I said I was done last year, when that pretty boy Peyton Manning took down that pretty boy Sanchez.

This ain’t like when I said I was done with the Mets after 2006, and 2007, and 2008, and 2009, and 2010, and how I plan on sayin I’m done with em after 2011. This is gonna stick, brother. The Jets bring me nothin but pain, and I don’t need that in my life no more. I can’t walk back into work and face my loudmouth Giants fan supervisor. Thinks he’s so high and mighty. God damn choir boy only got caught fakin a workman’s comp injury twice

On second thought, I bet I could claim Jets fandom as a crippling condition and get some time off for that. Or at least some scrips.

No! I’m stickin to my guns. I’m done and that’s that. And if the Jets don’t draft a big time receiver this April, I’m gonna beat Mike Tannenbaum with a shovel on fire.

Football

Rex Ryan, Master Motivator

rex.jpgNo, I don’t think the AFC Championship is gonna be a letdown game at all. Whoever wins this wins a trip to the Super Bowl. You can’t get up for that, might as well quit football right now.

Sure, we’re not trash-talking the Steelers like we did the Patriots, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get motivated for this game. My tactic is tell my team that Pittsburgh is full of bad guys. Like really, really bad guys, and we gotta get em and throw em in jail.

What kind of bad guys? I dunno, maybe bank robbers, or ninjas. Every time you tackle them, they get one Jail Point. If you tackle somebody 10 times, they gotta go to jail. Jail is either gonna be the locker room or this really big rock. We haven’t decided yet.

And I’m gonna tell my men that the hash marks are deadly poisonous snakes, and if you step on em, you’re dead. And also the end zone is lava, but if you go in there while holding a football, it can’t hurt you. Oh, and you’re totally safe if you’re standing on the sidelines, but if someone comes off of the field and touches you, you have to stay frozen for like five minutes.

Why are we gonna win this game? Because we got a great defense, we got a great ground game, we’ve got a lot of last-minute wins under our belt, and also the commissioner told me totally get a pizza party if we win this game.

What’s that? Ben Roethlisberger called no-backsies-no-givesies? You can’t do that before the game starts! That butthead!

Football

Bill Belichick Refuses to Admit Existence of Football

belichick.jpgTrash-talking by the Jets? No, I don’t pay too much attention to that. Antonio Cromartie likes to yak, but that’s not part of our game. That’s just the kind of thing reporters like you love to write about, that’s all. We just come to play. You know me, I’m not much for words.

What about Wes Welker’s comments? Look, Wes is someone who works for this organization in some capacity. I really…I can’t say anything beyond that. I juat have to focus on my job.

Do we respect the Jets? I don’t think the answer to that question matters much, in the grand scheme of things. It doesn’t affect our game plan. They do what they do, we do what we do. I’m not sure who the Jets are, really. That’s not a name…I’m not familiar with that name at all.

They’re our divisional playoff game opponent? If you say so. I’ll leave that for the media to dissect and…do those sorts of things. We just come to play the game. If you say it’s the divisional playoff game, then okay, fine. I’m not concerned with that.

Will I at least concede we’re playing a football game? No, I mean…look, I know it’s your job to dig out every little secret of ours, but it’s my job to prepare to play a game. And no, I will neither confirm nor deny that said game is football.

You look very frustrated. I’m not trying to frustrate you or anybody else. I’m just trying to do my job, which is to prepare my team for a task. You want to call that a “game”? Go right ahead. It has no bearing on my job, which I would prefer not to discuss.

The thing you have in your hand? It appears to be some sort of ellipsoidal spheroid, formed by stitching together strips of a leather-like polymer and filling it with air. What is it called? Look, you’re not going to play “gotcha” with me. You want to call it a football, call it a football. We’re just going to perform certain deeds. Let the media sort it out any way they want.

Look, holding a knife to my throat isn’t going to get me to admit anything. I have to think about what’s best for the organization, the nature of which is frankly none of your business. I am just an entity leading other sentient beings toward an unspecified goal.

Well, I certainly won’t give away anything just because you’re holding the knife to your own throat. I refuse to be blackmailed. Now…look, bleeding all over my floor won’t change my mind, either. Nor will turning deathly white and gasping for air. I’m just going to keep performing acts that lead to other acts. Stimulus, response, stimulus, response.