The stage was set—the upstart Jets versus the incumbent Pats.
Two bitter rivals sitting atop both their division and conference, playing for the driver’s seat in the hunt for the AFC championship on Monday Night Football on a chilly December night in Foxboro, Mass.
Check that—only one team was playing.
The other team was too busy missing tackles, shanking punts, dropping passes, blowing coverages, missing receivers, and generally providing enough highlights to fill up any football follies video they desired, to realize a game was going on all around them.
The game that was supposed to be never was.
It began as a much anticipated slugfest between two 9–2 rivals. One of them a perennial Super Bowl contender and the other a team always hoping but never fulfilling. With two great coaches having two great seasons sitting atop opposite ends of the nation’s fiercest natural geographical sports rivalry—Boston and New York, of course.
After all, these two regions could get fired up over a synchronized swimming competition between one another, much less with NFL pole positions on the line. And they were fired up.
They were treating this with the respect it deserved. The Jets, sensing morale was down after their defensive heart-and-soul Jim Leonhard was lost for the season on an ugly collision in practice, signed free agent wide receiver Laveranues Coles for one game (for approximately $40,000) solely as a locker room pick-me-up.
New England, not to be outdone, had already picked Monday Night’s game against the Jets to honor retired linebacker, fan favorite, and three-time Super Bowl Champion, Teddy Bruschi, with a special halftime ceremony.
This was no ordinary game. This was homecoming weekend.
It ended as soon as Nick Folk’s missed field goal attempt put the Pats in prime position to score again minutes into the first quarter. That put the Jets into a hole that would only get deeper as the night grew colder.
The rest played out like a broken record, over and over. Armed with a defense that had lost its quarterback, the Jets could only watch as Brady knifed pass after pass into the arms of his receivers, never allowing the Jets to dictate any kind of rhythm or steal any momentum.
Meanwhile on the other side of the ball, the talented but inconsistent, Mark Sanchez was missing receiver after receiver, unable to generate any kind of momentum that didn’t end with one of his passes ending up in the arms of a hostile defender.
In the end, the Jets, with all their promise and all their bravado, were left searching for the number of the Mack truck that had run over them. Their time to shine on the big stage will have to wait a little longer.
Two bitter rivals sitting atop both their division and conference, playing for the driver’s seat in the hunt for the AFC championship on Monday Night Football on a chilly December night in Foxboro, Mass.
Check that—only one team was playing.
The other team was too busy missing tackles, shanking punts, dropping passes, blowing coverages, missing receivers, and generally providing enough highlights to fill up any football follies video they desired, to realize a game was going on all around them.
The game that was supposed to be never was.
It began as a much anticipated slugfest between two 9–2 rivals. One of them a perennial Super Bowl contender and the other a team always hoping but never fulfilling. With two great coaches having two great seasons sitting atop opposite ends of the nation’s fiercest natural geographical sports rivalry—Boston and New York, of course.
After all, these two regions could get fired up over a synchronized swimming competition between one another, much less with NFL pole positions on the line. And they were fired up.
They were treating this with the respect it deserved. The Jets, sensing morale was down after their defensive heart-and-soul Jim Leonhard was lost for the season on an ugly collision in practice, signed free agent wide receiver Laveranues Coles for one game (for approximately $40,000) solely as a locker room pick-me-up.
New England, not to be outdone, had already picked Monday Night’s game against the Jets to honor retired linebacker, fan favorite, and three-time Super Bowl Champion, Teddy Bruschi, with a special halftime ceremony.
This was no ordinary game. This was homecoming weekend.
It ended as soon as Nick Folk’s missed field goal attempt put the Pats in prime position to score again minutes into the first quarter. That put the Jets into a hole that would only get deeper as the night grew colder.
The rest played out like a broken record, over and over. Armed with a defense that had lost its quarterback, the Jets could only watch as Brady knifed pass after pass into the arms of his receivers, never allowing the Jets to dictate any kind of rhythm or steal any momentum.
Meanwhile on the other side of the ball, the talented but inconsistent, Mark Sanchez was missing receiver after receiver, unable to generate any kind of momentum that didn’t end with one of his passes ending up in the arms of a hostile defender.
In the end, the Jets, with all their promise and all their bravado, were left searching for the number of the Mack truck that had run over them. Their time to shine on the big stage will have to wait a little longer.
