A tip-of-the cap to all diehard New York Jets fans
I’m just going to come out and say it: If you are a New York Jets fan who allows your son to root for the Giants, you should be placed in football-fan prison.
Now, you might think that is a strong piece of hyperbole. You may retort with, “Why would I want him to suffer rooting for the Jets like I have?”
To that, I say, “Here’s your orange jumpsuit and say hello to your new cellmate Randy.”
Call me a traditionalist, but I really believe that kids should be forced to root for the same team as their parents—if that parent is a diehard fan. Casual fans, I don’t really care; let your silly kid buy a Patrick Mahomes jersey and be done with it. But to the true diehard Jets fans, I think it is an easy and simple answer: Your son or daughter is a Jets fan, period.
Now, I’m a mid-20s guy, and although I claim to have a 3-month-old son, I cannot wait for the day to raise my first kid to be a Jets fan.
The good, the bad, the second-and-12 halfback dive for no gain—we suffer through it all together. To curb any thought that my son may not want to become a Jets fan, it’s simple: no internet access until the age of 18.
No technology, no contact with the outside world—it will be like M. Night Shyamalan’s The Village (2004).
College tuition? You’re on your own.
Need a ride to the hospital? Download the Uber app.
I refuse to live in a world in which I’m standing in Lot M of MetLife Stadium, trying to force down my third fireball shot while my son is at home gearing up to watch the Giants’ 1 p.m. ET game broadcasted on FOX.
I know what you are thinking … “Matt Enwhyjay, you are being way too extreme; after all, it’s just a game.”
If that’s the case, why are you spending time reading this? The answer is quite simple: You love football. You love the Jets, in spite of all of the organization’s faults. Not a single day goes by during the season or in the offseason when I don’t think about the Jets. I have first cousins that I think about maybe once a year … maybe (? … only if one is currently reading this).
Honest question: Would you rather ensure the outcome of one of your random cousin’s eternal happiness, or see the Jets start a season 4-0? We all know the answer, even if you don’t want to admit it.
If the Jets matter to you, then you want them to matter to your offspring (or, in the case of some who describe oh-so tantalizingly, the fruit of your loins).
Although your son becoming a Giants fan is a nightmare scenario, you really can’t have your kid be one of these New Jersey-born Boston fans. You hear the same thing from all of them, “My cousin’s twice-removed uncle’s friend once drove through Massachusetts en route to Vermont, so that’s why I am a New England Patriots fan.”
The Patriots/Red Sox fans were truly among the least pleasant individuals in high school, especially as the conclusion of each season saw another trophy raised in the city. They would show up in calculus with a Tom Brady jersey, only knowing probably five players on the current roster. (If you are reading this, Greg Hunter … I hope you can now name at least six.)
When the time comes and the Jets finally get this turned around, you want your kid celebrating there with you. That’s a forever moment. And the best part is the satisfaction will feel earned.
You aren’t going to a blue-blood franchise like the Giants (although they have been abysmal over the past decade); you are going to a franchise that has only topped its division four times in its first 62 seasons. That’s rough, but it is going to make it so much sweeter when the time finally does arrive.
That’s pretty much it. If I hadn’t made it abundantly clear, I’ll say it again: I think all Jets fans should raise their kids to root for Gang Green. I would love to have a younger generation of Jets fans live and die for this organization.
At the end of the day, I’m not here to tell you how to raise your kids—only in this case, as it relates to your beloved New York Jets.
