Remember, remember the 24th of January. Okay, so maybe it doesn't have that certain ring to it. But rest assured, yesterday was certainly a memorable day. Brett Favre was--yet again--the reason his loaded team collapsed in the NFC Championship game, while the Jets did what the Jets do best, choke. Finally! A playoff weekend that I could fully enjoy!
Trust me, I didn't see it starting out this way. I mean, if you were to tell me that three of the final four NFL teams featured my nemesis Brett Favre, the lowly Jets and the rival Colts you might find me at the highest point at Hofstra ready to jump. But nay. Instead of taking the suicidal approach I persevered and came to a revelation--something that I have been toying with since the infamous "4&2" game.
As much as it may pain to say this, I am a Peyton Manning fan. I certainly hope Tom Brady doesn't read the Improp, for the sake of our bromance. But it's hard to not be a fan of his. The guy is a fucking machine. He never looks rattled. He rarely looks over-matched. Even when his team is down and it seems hopeless for them, Manning just imposes his will and grinds out games. If you're a true football fan, how can you deny Manning the respect he undoubtedly deserves?
So in an AFC Championship that featured the despicable Jets and the Patriots' counter-part, the Colts, who could I possibly root for? You're god-damn right I hopped on that Colts' band-wagon. And I have to admit, it reminded me of watching the Patriots in their heyday. I gotta tip my cap to the Colts' fans of the world, you certainly have a well-oiled football team.
But as for that other team, I realize why I loathe the Jets--much like why I hate most New York teams; their ignorant fans. Which is unfortunate because the Jets actually have some talent on that team. It's funny how a few fuckfaces can turn you off completely from something. Point in case with a situation that happened to me yesterday at work. This story just furthers my theory that I should have my own reality show. I swear I don't know stuff like this happens to me. But here we go:
As some of you may already I know, I work at Dave & Buster's in Long Island. And this place might as well hold sex brothels for Jets fans because so many of them come out for the games. Like usual, I had my Tom Brady jersey on for the games--the only jersey I own thank-you very much. I usually get a few jabs here and there, mostly harmless, but yesterday was different. There was a group of early 20-something guidos at the bar who were fist-pumping from the moment they walked in. No joke. I mean some of these guys' blowouts would have made DJ Pauly D blush.
Needless to say, these guys didn't like the fact that I had on a Patriots jersey on. And they start yelling shit to me from across the bar like, "The Patriots fucking suck," "Tom Brady sucks," and other sorts of slander. Obviously, this guy had his head shoved so far up his own ass that he failed to see greatness when it's right in front of him. A team that hasn't had a losing season in 9-10 years and a player who has missed the playoffs only once in his career must suck. Now I would have loved to have said something back, but who was I to say something at the time? I was working and he was there to have a good time. I figured I would exact my revenge when the Jets blew it.
That didn't happen right away as the Jets looked sharp. And those same group of guys made sure to seek me out, make direct eye contact, flip up their middle fingers and yell "Fuck the Patriots! J-E-T-S! JETS! JETS! JETS!" Once again, what am I going to do? So I flash a smile, shake my head in disbelief and continue to work. These childish antics would go on for much of the first half. But as the Colts started come back, everyone got very quiet.
Then at halftime, one of the guys from that group came up to me and said "I really love that jersey," in a sincere tone. Well as sincere as a drunk New Yorker can be I suppose. Now usually I try to keep my distance from New York Giants fans, like this guy was, but we connected over our hatred of the Jets. And he said to me, "My friends really hate the fake that I'm talking to you and that you're a Pats fan. When the Jets lose come over and give my friends a hard time." I loved hearing this. I mean, I had planned on saying something, but this just gave me a free opening. I couldn't miss out on an opportunity to throw some jabs back at some guido d-bags.
And right on cue, the Jets collapse. What a shocker. So the two-minute warning hits and I catch the Giants fan eyeing to come over. With a big smirk on my face, I walk up to the mob of depressing Jets fans and they all move out of my way like the parting of the Red Sea; all shying away from the bright glow of that Tom Brady jersey. I walk up to the group of guys, shrug my shoulders, open up my palms and calmly asked "What happened?" I would have liked to have said more, but this guy flipped out. The Giants fan who told me to go over there had to separate us, because that guy wanted to rip my head off. He pushed me back, and I obviously couldn't retaliate because I was on the clock. Plus, do I really want to be that guy who gets in a fight over a sports game? I'd like to think I have a little more class than that. The whole restaurant kind of stopped for a moment to see what happened before the bouncers kicked him out. Everyone knew I was involved. The good and the bad part of wearing that Tom Brady jersey is that I stick out like a sore thumb.
But it then it dawned on me. This guy, who had no problem dishing out a verbal beating to a rival fan and actually took pleasure out of it, couldn't handle when he got a small dose of his own medicine. While these type of people are not only limited to New York fans or Jets fans, I have found through my experiences that it is mostly New York fans. And it reflects the general attitude of the area: pig-headed, and self-absorbed. In slang terms I guess you could say New Yorkers have their heads up their asses.
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