“You don’t kill people you don’t know; that’s a rule.”

If you know, you know. For those unaware, that quote originated from a line in the timeless classic “Dumb & Dumber.”

Ignore the actual stupidity it took for the Mike Starr character to set up his own death unnecessarily. This is instead about the exact quote itself, and how it can be applied to our little world (in a stretched-out, extremely loose-fitting way).

Undrafted free agent quarterbacks don’t have success in the National Football League. It simply does not happen—at least in the modern era. That’s a rule.

Therefore, anybody who slightly speaks positively about an arm that happened to go undrafted is viewed as a leper who must be shunned from society while instantly being placed in a padded white room.

New York Jets UDFA Brady Cook is the reason we’re all here, of course.

Cook, 24, hopped aboard the organization after going undrafted in 2025, and he instantly made a strong impression. Unfortunately, that strong impression was anything but positive.

He stunk.

Against air, even, the Missouri product couldn’t hit a 20-yard seam route to a tight end if his life depended upon it. Consistently overthrowing his targets—without a defense on the field—one couldn’t help but channel his inner-Morgan Freeman.

“I must admit, I didn’t think much of [him] the first time I laid eyes on him; [he] looked like a stiff breeze would blow him over. That was my first impression of the man.”

Again, if you know, you know.

(What is this, mid-1990s classic movie day?)

Although nobody called me Red during OTAs (even though I actually am Irish), I looked around in amazement, not believing what was unfolding on the practice field. This guy simply did not belong.

But then something happened, something so drastic that, yet again, the same undrafted kid had me flabbergasted when watching reality unfold before my very eyes, versus the preconceived notion heading into the situation.

Brady Cook did a little training camp cooking.

I’m still not sure the how and why. I’m still unsure about the process that led him to that destination. But the very same UDFA who didn’t belong on the field in the spring came back to Northern New Jersey in late July to prove his worth.

He looked like a leader, released the ball quickly and on time, and improved in every realistic way imaginable.

Don’t get it twisted: We’re not talking about the next Johnny Unitas or Joe Montana here. Expectations must be tempered, no matter how warm and fuzzy a Jets fan feels about a particular player.

At the same time, burying a guy before meeting him isn’t just unfair; it’s wholly self-damaging. Plus, the kid is more intriguing than the average UDFA quarterback.

Take his first professional action, for instance. When head coach Aaron Glenn called upon Cook in the Jets’ most recent loss, a 34-10 shellacking at the hands of the Miami Dolphins, things were moving faster than Usain Bolt across our screens.

It was clear that the kid’s mind was racing a million miles a minute.

Although offensive coordinator Tanner Engstrand could have given the kid a confidence boost on an early-down play, Cook’s first pass attempt was a stinker (missing an easy shallow cross for a first down).

He later fumbled a snap, took a couple of sacks, and just looked totally overwhelmed.

If his immediate action was OTAs, what came next was his training camp.

Despite the brutal interception to end the first half—which he had no business even attempting, thanks to the situation that forced all defensive players to have their eyes directly on the quarterback, while standing soft near the goal line—the kid composed himself rather quickly.

The drive leading up to the interception showcased anticipation, which is an attribute tough to come by for any UDFA. It also featured a no-fear attitude—which is, by far, the more favorable mindset over the “going into a shell” variety.

Then, after the Jets regrouped at halftime, Cook put forth an enticing second half. Again, it’s not close to undoubted territory, but it’s undoubtedly more intriguing than the usual UDFA.

Cook has an idea out there. While fighting near-basket case status, he sold plays (fake screen that turned into an Andrew Beck wheel), anticipated route concepts (a strike on a dig to AD Mitchell, who promptly dropped it), and read coverages the entire time (i.e., a hole shot down the right sideline against Cover 2).

In other words, the fantastically-dreamt cupboard isn’t totally bare. He even showed some positives this past August:

You’re a fan. Therefore, be a fan.

There’s nothing wrong with rooting for Brady Cook on Sunday, when he makes his first professional start against the Jacksonville Jaguars. In fact, it’s everything right about sports.

Norm MacDonald perhaps articulated it best when confessing that nobody likes the individual who believes he or she is the smartest in the room—even if he or she is actually the most intelligent. Such lines in sports media relating to the Jets are predictable and plentiful …

  • Who cares who they draft? They’ll ruin him.
  • Same old Jets; who cares what happens in Week 15 in a lost season?
  • Of course Brady Cook won’t be any good.

Wow, only the bravest of men could utter such wisdom. Perhaps only William Wallace can venture into that territory.

So wait, you’re telling me that this undrafted kid won’t be a superstar in this league that so carefully (yet incorrectly) assesses and values quarterback talent?

Well, duh.

If anybody on this planet needs to be told that Brady Cook isn’t on the fast track to football stardom, there’s no legitimate conversation to be had. That’s not the point here, as it instead strikes the heart of the matter …

Sports fandom.

The moment somebody pretends a fan has no right to dream the ultimate dream is when that specific somebody has lost the plot. The instant the general sports fandom world adheres to those rules, by and large, is the time when this entire world becomes nonsensical.

The greatest of sports fans are as superstitious and dreamy-eyed as any alive. No matter how fiercely some may rebuff it, intrusive thoughts oftentimes run rampant.

In one category are the obsessive fans who must have everything set up particularly. “Ok, I have my cashews and pretzels over here, on this table. My beer (or 10) is ideally placed beside me (with he label showing face oh-so perfectly in a specific direction). I’m wearing the most sensical Jets garb, and, of course, my physical location is in the proper place (in my lucky chair or fortunate barstool at my favorite watering hole).”

Don’t fight it (if that’s you). Embrace it.

Besides, that’s not the only type of fan. What about the grand dreamers who are of the firm belief that the Jets will only dig themselves out of this putrid hole if something fantastical actually does happen?

After all, what’s in a name? When former Jets head coach (for a day) Bill Belichick selected a scrawny California kid in the sixth round of the 2000 NFL draft, nobody thought twice about it. (That was until Mo Lewis and fate took hold of the situation.)

If the New England Patriots’ franchise fortunes can turn on a dime with a man named Brady, why couldn’t it happen for the Jets? Honestly, wouldn’t that make all the sense in the world for the long-suffering Jets fan, that only the most indescribable event—that simultaneously plays the good-name-fortunate game—turns out to be the answer towards prominence?

I’d be willing to bet that of the Jets fans who have actually thought that very thought, at any single fleeting moment, under 1% have actually blurted it aloud. And that’s precisely the point.

Rooting for, examining, and wishing for fate to take hold, or something nonsensical to happen to your team, for once, is what a fan should do. It doesn’t equate to grand designs or Ruthian predictions that an underdog kid is destined for Canton; it simply signals that life is still active in a fan.

So, yes, New York Jets fans … go for it; dream that fantastical Brady Cook dream.

Only Rudy’s best friend, Pete, could sum it up best …

“Having dreams is what makes life tolerable.”