The Preseason Delusion of a Fair Fight
You remember August, don’t you? That magical time of year when every single fan in the tri-state area convinces themselves that the New York Jets have actually put together a roster capable of doing something other than falling flat on their faces? It is a sickness. It is a genuine, documented psychological condition where people look at the New York Jets and think, ‘Hey, maybe they won’t lose by thirty points this time.’ Well, reality has come knocking with a heavy, New England-sized boot, and it is about to kick the door down. We are looking at a 12-3 juggernaut entering Week 17 against a 3-12 disaster area that looks more like a demolition site than a professional football organization. Is it even legal to broadcast this? One team is clinching a playoff berth and tuning their engine for another Super Bowl run while the other is looking for where they left their dignity back in September. It is pathetic. It is hilarious. It is exactly what we expected from the most lopsided rivalry in the history of the sport.
Bill Belichick does not do mercy. He does not do ‘taking it easy’ on a divisional rival because it’s the holiday season or because the other team is basically playing with a roster full of guys they found at a local Home Depot. He wants to crush them. He wants to grind them into the turf of MetLife Stadium until there is nothing left but green scraps and tears. Can you blame him? When you have the chance to stomp out the last flickering embers of hope in a city like New York, you take it every single time. The Patriots are coming off a come-from-behind victory that showed they still have that late-game magic, that dark sorcery that Tom Brady has been practicing for two decades. They are healthy. They are angry. They are ready to treat this Week 17 game as a glorified practice session before the real games begin in January. The Jets? They are just trying to survive without another three players ending up on the injured reserve list.
The Autumn of Despair and the Rise of the Empire
Let’s look back at how we got to this miserable point in the season for the boys in green. The season started with a whimper and it is ending with a scream. While the Patriots were busy methodically dismantling every opponent that dared to step on the field with them, the Jets were busy finding new and innovative ways to lose games. Did you see that mid-season stretch? It was like watching a slow-motion car crash that lasted for eight weeks straight. The fans were calling for heads to roll. The media was laughing. And through it all, the Patriots just kept winning. They kept moving the chains. They kept making defensive plays that shouldn’t be possible. They are the gold standard and the Jets are the lead weights sinking to the bottom of the Hudson River. Why do we even pretend this is a contest? It is a ritual. It is a yearly tradition where the king comes to visit the peasants and decides to burn their crops just because he can.
There is a specific kind of arrogance that comes with being a New England fan, and honestly, they have earned it. Imagine winning twelve games by the time December rolls around. It must be nice. It must be wonderful to wake up on Sunday knowing that your team isn’t going to embarrass you in front of the entire nation. The Jets fans don’t have that luxury. They wake up with a sense of impending dread that usually manifests by the end of the first quarter. By the time the second half starts, most of them are checking the draft order to see if they can land a quarterback who won’t see ‘ghosts’ on the field. It is a cycle of pain. It is a wheel of suffering that never stops spinning. And this Sunday, the wheel is going to run right over them once again. There is no escape. There is only the clock ticking down to zero and the cold realization that another year has been wasted in the Meadowlands.
The Logistics of Watching a televised Execution
So, where do you go if you want to witness this massacre in real-time? If you are a glutton for punishment or a Patriots fan looking for a good laugh, you have plenty of options. The game is being broadcast everywhere because the NFL knows people love a spectacle, even if that spectacle is a one-sided beatdown. You can find it on your local CBS affiliate if you are in the market, or you can stream it through any of the dozen apps that currently hold the league’s digital rights hostage. But really, the ‘where’ doesn’t matter as much as the ‘why.’ Why are you watching? Are you watching because you think the Jets might pull off a miracle? You’re delusional. Are you watching because you want to see if Brady can throw for four touchdowns before halftime? Now we’re talking. That is the only reason to tune in. You are watching for the greatness of one side and the absolute, total collapse of the other.
The Patriots just need to avoid injuries. That is the only goal. If they can get through sixty minutes of football without anyone’s ACL giving out, they win. Even if they lose the game on the scoreboard—which they won’t—they win the season. The Jets, on the other hand, are just playing for pride, but it’s hard to play for something you haven’t seen in months. They are hapless. They are hopeless. They are the New York Jets. It is a brand of failure that is recognized globally. You could go to a remote village in the Himalayas and say the word ‘Jets’ and people would offer you their condolences. That is the level of misery we are dealing with here. And on Sunday, that misery is going to be broadcast in high definition for everyone to see. Don’t blink. You might miss a turnover. Actually, don’t worry, there will be plenty more.
The Future is Dark for New York
What happens after the final whistle blows? For the Patriots, it is business as usual. They will pack their bags, head back to Foxborough, and start preparing for a home playoff game where they will likely destroy another unsuspecting victim. They are a machine. They are an assembly line of winning. For the Jets, it is back to the drawing board, a board that is currently covered in crayon scribbles and tears. They will talk about ‘culture change.’ They will talk about ‘building for the future.’ They will talk about ‘learning from this loss.’ It is all noise. It is all the same garbage they have been feeding their fan base for years. Nothing changes. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and the Jets lose to the Patriots. It is one of the few certainties in an uncertain world.
Will there ever be a day when this game is actually competitive? Maybe in a parallel universe where physics works differently and the Jets suddenly care about winning. But in this reality, the one we are all stuck in, this is a mismatch of epic proportions. It is a lion vs. a wounded gazelle. It is a masterclass vs. a preschool finger-painting session. The gap between these two organizations is so wide you could fit the entire Atlantic Ocean inside it. So, as we head into this Week 17 ‘matchup,’ let’s call it what it really is: a victory lap for the greatest dynasty in the history of professional sports and a funeral service for the New York Jets’ season. Grab your popcorn. It’s going to be a bloodbath. And honestly? We wouldn’t have it any other way. The drama is too good to ignore, even if the result is already written in the stars.
Look at the rosters. Just look at them. New England has veterans who have seen everything the league can throw at them. They have a coaching staff that is three steps ahead of everyone else. They have a system that doesn’t just work; it dominates. Then look at the Jets. It’s a collection of players who look like they just met in the parking lot ten minutes before kickoff. There is no cohesion. There is no fire. There is only the cold, hard reality that they are outclassed in every single facet of the game. Offensive line? Advantage Patriots. Special teams? Advantage Patriots. Water boy? Advantage Patriots. It is a clean sweep of superiority. So when you sit down on Sunday to watch this game, don’t expect a contest. Expect a clinic. Expect a reminder of why the Patriots are the gold standard and why the Jets are the punchline of every joke in the NFL. It is a tale of two cities, one that is celebrating and one that is mourning. The outcome is inevitable, the pain is certain, and the glory belongs to Foxborough.
Is there any world where the Jets actually put up a fight? Maybe if Belichick decides to play his third-stringers for the entire game. But even then, New England’s backups are probably better than New York’s starters. That is the sad truth of the situation. The depth in New England is legendary. They find players in the sixth and seventh rounds who turn into Hall of Famers while the Jets find players in the first round who turn into memes. It is a scouting failure, a coaching failure, and a management failure all rolled into one. And this Sunday, all those failures will be on full display. The Patriots don’t even need to play their best game to win this. They just need to show up and not trip over their own feet. The Jets will do the rest of the work for them by turning the ball over and missing tackles. It’s almost too easy. Almost.
In the grand scheme of things, this game is just a footnote in the history of the Patriots’ dominance. But for the Jets, it’s another scar. Another reminder of how far they have fallen and how far they have to go. They are lightyears away from being a playoff team, let alone a contender. They are stuck in the basement of the AFC East, looking up at the ceiling and wondering how they got there. Meanwhile, the Patriots are already in the penthouse, looking down at everyone else and laughing. The view must be nice from up there. It certainly looks better than the view from the bottom. So, enjoy the game, if you can call it that. It’s the final act of a tragic comedy, and the curtains are about to close on the Jets. New England? They’re just getting started. The playoffs are coming, and the rest of the league should be very, very afraid. Because if they can do this to a divisional rival, imagine what they’ll do to everyone else.
