Jan. 24, 2010

So the New York Jets are riding high as they surrealistically enter Sunday’s AFC Championship game against the Indianapolis Colts. Actually, it would be entirely understandable if they were riding a little higher than high, because no more than 35 days ago, their own coach, Rex Ryan, announced that they didn’t stand a chance of making the playoffs, and New York’s sportswriters were calling en masse for the heads of both rookie quarterback Mark Sanchez and his towel-tossing coach. There were caricatures on the editorial pages and everything. These guys were losers.

But then the Colts almost literally gifted the Jets with a must-have win near end of the season, when Jim Caldwell borderline inexplicably decreed that his best players should take a nap and allow their backups to blow the single longest winning streak in NFL history. Then the Bengals, who already had a lock on a prime playoff spot, failed to show up with tightened jockstraps the following week, and voila— the Jets were a playoff team!

Then things got really weird. The Jets started thinking they actually deserved to be there. First, they handily beat Cincinnati in a one-sided insta-rematch, then stunned anybody with a functioning cerebellum by putting away the Chargers, who were considered by many to be the top team in the league. Next up, the apparently doomed Colts.

Now, of course, New York’s sports columnists, who have no memories, let alone short ones, and contradict themselves as a way of life, are believers, baby! Gang Green - which has to be the single worst nickname in all of professional sports - can do this!

The Jets have been loudly talking shit about the Colts for almost a week now, to the point that they seem to be dangling a pork chop in front of a lion, and I don’t know. That sounds like a pretty stupid idea to me. Even Ryan said he'd be "really surprised" if they lost, and that sounds pretty stupid to me, too.

If you’re a Jets fan, that t-shirt Sanchez is wearing in the above photo is also a bad omen. The design is a reference to the homemade bat that Robert Redford’s mythic character, Roy Hobbs, used to hit outrageously long home runs in the 1984 film, “The Natural.” The apparent connection is that Sanchez, too, is a natural at his chosen sport. He’s the Jets heroic leader, you know. He’s a Wonderboy.

Gee. That’s funny. He wasn’t such a fucking Wonderboy against Buffalo in Week 6, when he completed 10 of 29 passes for 119 yards and 5 interceptions. Or in Week 7 against Oakland (9-16, 143 yds., 0 int.) Or in Week 11 against New England (8-21, 136 yds., 4 int.) Or in Week 15 against Atlanta (18-31, 236 yds., 3 int.) Back then he was just a plain old boy.

Sanchez’s supposed "big" games this year haven’t been especially big, either. He’s tossed more than one TD pass in a game only two times— remember, by this point that’s 18 opportunities to do so. Both times, he threw for exactly two touchdowns. And he hasn't had a 300 yard game yet; he hasn't even come close.

Hell, in what we’ll now call the Second Stringer Bowl against the Colts, he only managed 106 yards and no TD’s. And last week against San Diego, he marched the Jets up and down the field to the tune of a cool 100 yards passing…which, as I’ve pointed out in the past, is only 100 yards more than my mom got while sitting in a chair in Alabama.

Sure, the Jets beat the Chargers, and that’s quite an accomplishment. But Sanchez has hardly been putting up the kinds of numbers that get adapted into movies. They’re the kinds of numbers that all but require the Jets vaunted defense to hold Manning’s bionic mind-arm combo to 17 points, or there’s gonna be big trouble in little Wonderland.

Manning, in case you haven’t been keeping up, threw for over 300 yards 9 different times this year, and had 299 yards one other time. Plus, he managed 3 or more touchdown passes on 7 different occasions. He also won another MVP award a couple weeks ago, for, among other things, his ability to deliver like a Samurai swordsman while under immense pressure. And don’t think he’s not pissed off at being forced to sit there and watch that winning streak swirl down the drain so that the Jets might go on living. And talking shit about the Colts.

The last I heard, Manning was wearing a gray t-shirt that says “Indianapolis Colts” on it. He doesn’t have to reference a Barry Levinson movie to make any points, although it would be fun if he could manage to quote “Jimmy Hollywood” during a post-game interview.

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I’m not saying the Jets literally can’t win this one. Right now, their defense is a certifiable monster, and, as always in the NFL, anything is possible. But Indianapolis, unlike San Diego, won’t be pulling any moronic onside kicks to ease New York’s burden. And I assume the Colts’ starters will be allowed to participate for all four quarters this time around, unless they have something better to do on Super Bowl Sunday.

Paul’s Pick: the Colts by at least 15, then on to Miami. Unless that’s not what happens, in which case I’ll have to go on paying my bills every month anyway. So who really cares?

Somehow, they never get around to saying that during TV pre-game shows.

Paul Tatara