The Miami Dolphins certainly seemed ready to assume the lease from the New York Jets and take over operations at the NFL's failure factory. Roster in shambles due to years of mismanagement, vibes negative, expectations nonexistent, results consistently unwatchable, envisioning horrible new cellars where others only saw cement: The Dolphins were out-Jetsing the Jets in ways no one had dreamed possible. This is an impressive anti-achievement.
The Jets, after all, have spent the better part of a decade as the devastating punch line to the joke, "So, what about the Jets?" And the Dolphins had beaten it all, spending $167 million of actual money on a quarterback they learned to hate within a year, firing everyone they could this past offseason and losing their first five games this year without ever having had a lead at any point in any of them. They _were_ the Jets with full parade-ground regalia, a team that could easily lose all 17 of its scheduled games and any extraneous scrimmages, and seemed earnestly to be trying to do so.
But the only true Jets are the Jets themselves, and the Dolphins found that out by playing those Jets on Sunday. Lots of teams with low self-esteem learn that lesson, because the Jets are the clown car that never quite empties its contents. They haven't had a winning season in 10 years or a playoff appearance in 16, and under current coach Aaron Glenn they are 5-19. The Dolphins were supposed to be a get-well game for them, and, well, they got got.
IIt happened quickly. The Dolphins scored first and established territorial and spiritual control, holding the ball for 21 minutes in the first half, including nearly all of its last nine minutes. Miami scored its third touchdown with 12 seconds left before halftime, which is interesting only when you realize that the Jets have been outscored 107-6 in the last two minutes of the first half over the past year and a half.
That margin was good enough for the Dolphins to cover their bets before they returned to their more natural state—prone and gasping for air—during the rest of the game. Miami barely held on to win, 28-25, but eventually those variable margins just become another way to tell the same lie. The Jets are losing by less than they did last year, but they are still defiantly and doggedly the Jets. And unlike the Las Vegas Raiders, who are back on their own West Coast bullshit after a 3-0 start and currently on their 19th four-game losing streak since their last Super Bowl appearance in 2002, the Jets don't have a shiny new quarterback just waiting patiently on the sidelines for his big moment.
Granted, nobody thought these Jets were significantly better than all those other Jets teams, but this game was one on which they had clearly rested some hope. They had the god-awful Dolphins this week and then the Raiders at home next week, and for those of us who like to play the schedule game, that meant a golden opportunity to reach the rarefied air of .500 halfway through the season. Instead, they are looking at being the Jets again, with the added sugar of Jets fans and their radio proxies screaming for Glenn's head in a bag today. Which is like what they've done for Jeff Ulbrich before him, and Robert Saleh before that, and Adam Gase before that, and Todd Bowles before that. That, too, is the Jets, and blowing such a grand opportunity to pass the crown of shame on to another divisional opponent is just double bogey for the course.
Therein lies yet another problem. For all their howling about Glenn, the fan base almost certainly won't get a filled sack, because the NFL is oddly averse to firing coaches at midseason; the 32 teams have averaged less than seven-tenths of a severed head per season in the last decade, maybe because the owners see how much money their college brethren are throwing at coaches they fire halfway through the season. Glenn may yet go down in flames, but that's likely to happen after all the players have left for vacation. By comparison, Raiders fans have come to accept their fate in part because they are a diaspora, spread over more than a thousand miles and separate heartbreaks, and also because Las Vegas's relationship to the team is largely "What new fan base is coming down here to spend the weekend now?" They aren't more tolerant, mind you, just less delusional.
Which leaves everyone concerned with nothing but more Jets football to look forward to, or look away from. Jets fans can hope that the Raiders keep Kirk Cousins in place for another week. Or maybe they prefer seeing Fernando Mendoza's first-ever start. Or maybe they're looking ahead to the Raiders defense, which is giving up five touchdowns a game during their current losing streak. But they know, whatever the case, that they're just trying to believe that the Jets aren't the Jets, and they know better than anyone that only the Jets can ever truly be the Jets, even if that just makes them the East Coast Raiders.
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