Jete (pron. jeet): 1. formerly Jets, New Jersey-based quasi-professional football team renamed by retired player Tony Richardson during the 2017 National Football League draft.
stank (pron. staynk): 1. a past of stink; 2. condition endemic to the New Jersey Jete, characterized by a mixed odor of burnt hair/used motor oil/rotting swamp flora accompanying feelings of despair and futility from on-field ineptitude.
savior (pron. sayv-yore): 1. one that saves from danger or destruction; 2. one who brings salvation; 3. New Jersey Jete designation for new quarterbacks assumed capable of delivering a championship. Seriously. That's how the poor souls think.
Wash ... rinse ... repeat?
As the saying goes, you can’t make this stuff up: a sitcom pilot scripted from Jete history would be summarily rejected as too outlandish. “Grotesque” might be a better term, suggesting the horror series fans swear they’ve been watching all along. And in that vein, circumstantial evidence of diabolical forces at work appears overwhelming.
Quarterback Joe Namath, face of the wayward franchise for six decades, remains a key culprit. He made a Faustian pact -- selling his soul to the devil -- for an underdog’s win vs. Baltimore in Super Bowl III. Thus, an improbable 1969 championship sealing the team's subsequent years of title-free futility. This ongoing streak of bad luck is interpreted as the “Faustian freight,” or curse; the price of that single win paid forward through the balance of Namath’s earthly incarnation. Adding credence is Joe’s famous “guarantee” of a Jete victory days before the game. His supreme confidence offers evidence of inside knowledge confirming a fixed outcome or demonic pact.
Now-former Jete player Aaron Rodgers, the latest casualty in a long line of failed franchise “savior” quarterbacks, last December affirmed what team representatives have been reticent to address. “It might be some sort of curse we’ve got to snap,” he said regarding New Jersey’s 56-year championship drought. Rodgers was quoted after receiver Garrett Wilson previously suggested that a “losing gene” might explain the team's struggles.
The curse has manifested in various fashions including but certainly not limited to: the infamous “butt fumble,” future Hall of Famer Rodgers’ Achilles tendon tear four plays into his first season, the seemingly endless carousels of head coaches, general managers and highly drafted quarterbacks, bizarre sexcapades involving coaches and players, owner Woody Johnson’s uncanny ineptitude, etc., etc. In 1979 a remote-controlled lawnmower, part of a halftime show, veered into the stands injuring spectators. There was quarterback Brett Favre’s 2008 season-spoiling biceps injury after a promising 8-3 start. In 2020, the Jete were 0-13 enroute to securing the No. 1 overall draft pick then won two of their last three games; the consolation prize was QB flop Zach “Punky McMilfson” Wilson.
Again, in Jete land truth remains stranger than fiction. The latest weird twist involves allegations by ex-players, former team officials and outside observers that Johnson’s teen-age sons, Brick and Jack, have meddled in front office player personnel decisions. Citing over 20 anonymous team sources,
The Athletic alleged in December, 2024 that Johnson's sons had an “influential role” in roster considerations. The article also claimed Johnson nixed a trade for wide receiver Jerry Jeudy because one son cited the player’s low
Madden NFL videogame rating.
True to form, the Jete entered their 2025 campaign with question marks leading what widely is deemed a talented roster: a rookie head coach in former star player Aaron Glenn (their third in five years) and a prospective liability at starting quarterback in journeyman Justin Fields. Adding intrigue is the fact that Glenn introduced Bible study into the team's training regimen -- tacit acknowledgment of dark powers messing with franchise fortunes, perhaps?
Once more, fans are left pondering whether yet another season of SOJ (Same Old Jets) is on tap. Meanwhile, Broadway Joe reportedly enjoys excellent health at a sprightly 82 years young.
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It is a beloved media tradition: When a dysfunctional team’s dysfunctional season reaches its dysfunctional end, reporters covering that team are permitted to write one big notebook-dumping explainer/eulogy. With a few outré exceptions, no one cares enough about bad teams to justify two such...
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