On the most critical play of the Eagles’ Week 6 game against the Jets, Jalen Hurts dropped back and saw chaos. Bodies. Receivers drifting into traps. Everyone covered. His progressions were muddier than the Huang He river. The Jets were playing like they had 15 defenders on the field when, in reality, they were down both of their starting cornerbacks. He’d thrown three picks already, and on a last heave downfield, he nearly threw a fourth.
It is hard to describe how critical this moment was—this win over the previously undefeated Eagles—not only for the Jets to pull themselves to .500, but to prove to everyone, finally and for all, that they are on the right path. This is not just another frail benchmark of progress. This is not just another Zach-Wilson-didn’t-fall-backward-and-fumble-a-ball-out-the-back-of-the-end-zone-so-it’s-a-win game. This was a defensive-minded staff without arguably its best defensive player (Sauce Gardner) shutting down one of the most powerful offenses in the NFL. Drive after drive. This was a team that was among the worst in the NFL two years ago, and now has backups and ancillary players who can form the core of a roster capable of winning massive games.
What more could we ask of Robert Saleh and coordinators Jeff Ulbrich and Nathaiel Hackett at this point? What more could Woody Johnson want? Fireman Ed? The fan calling into WFAN and screaming about trading for Mike White? When will it be time to admit that there is something special going on and stop questioning the validity of a process that rescued the franchise from near permanent irrelevance? The amount of blood and sweat to get here from Mike Maccagnan, Le’Veon Bell and blitzing the hell out of a Hail Mary was staggering. Having the Eagles come to town is no longer a curiosity akin to hydraulic press crusher videos on YouTube. It’s a game.
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Jets fans and ownership tend to live in narratives. They become prisoners to a sporting life they desire or a football life they believe they are entitled to. They tend to avoid the tangible. Sunday was, hopefully, mercifully, a glass of ice water to the face.
This team has no business being .500. It had no business being a Taylor Swift–inspired penalty away from beating the Chiefs on Sunday Night Football two weeks ago. It had no business clubbing the Bills in Week 1 amid the most depressing moment in franchise history, Aaron Rogers’s injury four plays into the season.
And yet, there was Hurts forced into another bad decision, another ball into the gut of a defender. There was Garrett Wilson, the best receiver in the league, getting the ball eight times despite being an obvious threat. There was Breece Hall getting 17 quality touches despite everyone in the building knowing the Jets are in high-end offensive survival mode, which means running the ball and checking it down. There was Zach Wilson waiting, chilling, bouncing, while the two-point conversion finally materialized. There he was, putting it on Randall Cobb with a throw he could not have made a year ago. Not even close.
The Jets survived the most brutal part of their under-the-spotlight schedule and now we can broaden our perception, not just to how they are surviving in a post-Rodgers world but how they are doing from a standpoint of organizational health. This team has not been on sound footing against elite NFL talent in more than a decade. Not since Rex Ryan could the Jets have talked themselves into hanging around against the defending Super Bowl champions and then knocking off the runner-ups.
It is easy to talk about how good teams and, in particular, coaches are when life is going well. It’s easy to throw on our best Cris Collinsworth and serve cold word salad about Patrick Mahomes and Andy Reid, about Bill Belichick and Tom Brady, about Josh Allen and Sean McDermott.
But what happens when the generational quarterback gods never deliver? What happens if they cosmically punish your team like some sort of Shakespearian antihero? Real coaching happens. Real team building. Real growth. Real progress not covered up and masked by the singular talents of one alien being capable of backward passing a perfect spiral 80 yards into the end zone.
That’s what we saw Sunday. That’s what Hurts saw when he dropped back and tried to win a football game and, instead, chucked a hopeless ball to nowhere. Did you finally see it, too?
