Much like Christopher Meloni or Jason Statham, Jets fans have made a wonderful living playing the same character for decades. Their franchise’s lack of relative success and semiregular occurrence of some strange outlier event (take your pick, as I’ve skipped Thanksgiving to watch a butt fumble, called the home phone of a strength coach who tripped an opposing player and watched my innocent mensch of a sports editor read about a coach’s bedroom preferences on the internet) has afforded them the performative space to call up talk radio stations and flood social media with their musings on how collectively aggrieved they’ve been.
Most of the time, it’s borderline charming. There is something romantic about the idea of loving something that never quite manages to return your affection. But in the case of Jets fans, especially on a day that they’ve acquired Aaron Rodgers in one of the most monumental moments in franchise history, it’s also completely misguided and delusional.
Sure, the Jets’ fan base has not won a Super Bowl since Joe Namath was under center, but that doesn’t mean they have not been catered to like an emotionally short-circuited teenager over the past 20 years in a desperate attempt to earn their affection.
