A few years ago, I would have written this out of sickness.
As a former Jets beat reporter, I remember what an absolutely, mystifyingly out-of-body experience being in that locker room could be.
Here we were, standing in the middle of a quarterback Bermuda Triangle with Tim Tebow, Mark Sanchez and Greg McElroy. We had no idea who was starting Sunday. The head coach (probably) talking about fighting someone. It was an astral projection of chaos. It was entertaining in the way being at a friend’s house in high school whose parents were routinely absent was fun. But after a while, you craved some structure and discipline. You wanted someone to tell you what to do and make you a sandwich on responsibly packaged multigrain bread.
