Not as much as I hate “Meter Maids,” though. I hope any asshole who signs up for that job gets diagnosed with multiple malignant tumors on Christmas Eve. Every time I get an unjust parking ticket my blood pressure raises by about 30 points and then I get sad because I know I’m too lazy and disorganized to ever protest them in court. You won this time, parking enforcement officer. And you’ll win next time too.
But I’d rather get a parking ticket every day in February than have to ever watch the New England Patriots win another Super Bowl. They’ve dominated the AFC East for a decade now and I can’t fracking stand it. On Saturdays, before I go to bed, I pray that Tom Brady will tear his Achilles on tomorrow’s opening drive. Wes Welker is a traitorous bastard, and I root for him to develop an addiction to pain killers. I refuse to call their obnoxious, hoodie-wearing curmudgeon of a coach anything other than Bill Bellicheat. When Teddy Bruschi almost died a few years ago, I naturally assumed that the team had bartered with Satan, their souls for a few rings, and I thought finally the bill had come in the mail.
Yeah, I hate the Patriots.
But I don’t root for them to lose every football game. Twice each year I disregard every ounce of common sense in my noggin and root for the Patriots to win. To humiliate, even.
You see, while I utterly loathe the Patriots and their smug, bandwagoning fans, the vitriol I reserve for them pales in comparison to that reserved for the New York Jets.
J-E-T-S, Jets. The most hated noun in my entire vocabulary.
The worst team in any sport, by far. The most obnoxiously obtuse fans ever conceived in dirty test tubes.
I don’t just root for them to lose every weekend, I root for ground beneath the stadium to crack and for the Earth to swallow them whole.
But not before that fat slob Rex Ryan chokes on one of his semen filled Twinkies on the sidelines. Not before the Department of Homeland Security sends Mark Sanchez back to South America for throwing six interceptions in a half. And certainly not before the 110th Airborne carpet bombs the ever-loving shit of of “Revis Island.”
Only after all that am I truly comfortable with their team bus to drive off a cliff and crash and burn in the depths of that special Hell for child rapists and people who listen to loud music on the bus.
You’ve never hated anything in your life as much as I hate the New York Jets.
If God made an appearance in my bedroom and said, “Hey brah, you have two options for next season. The Dolphins can go 14-2 next season and get swept by the Jets, or they can go 2-14 next season with their only wins coming against the Jets,” well, I’d pick door number two every time. Seriously.
Sweeping them last year felt unbelievably good. Like getting fellated by a unicorn on a bed made of cotton candy. I barely cared that, through the luckiest series of scheduling breaks ever, they went to the AFC Championship game and the Dolphins didn’t even make the playoffs. I’m not kidding. Beating the Jets in 2008 – the final game of the season, to advance to the playoffs, and to potentially end Zombie Favre’s career – was absolutely epic. Glorious, in fact.
So I’m sorry, you’re not going to get too many well considered “keys to victory” this week. I am too consumed by the fires of my hatred.
I can tell you this, though. I’ll be watching that game Sunday night. And hopefully some sniveling, excuse making, sad sack Jets fans will be around too. I love watching them backtrack after a game; it’ll be interesting to see what kind of excuses they come up with.
Let me leave you with these conclusions for tomorrow evening:
1. Jake Long dominates Jason Taylor the entire game, causing him to reconsider a career in dancing.
2. Chad Henne throws for two first-half touchdowns on Antonio Cromartie and the rest of their overrated secondary.
3. Ronnie Browns run the ball straight up the Jets’ asses, right through the hole that Kris Jenkins used to fill.
4. Rex Ryan eats an entire pepperoni pizza at halftime.
5. Miami continues to dominate in the second half.
6. The announcers reference that fucking Monday Night Football game with the 4th quarter comeback.
7. Vontae Davis grabs two second half interceptions.
8. Miami wins, 32 - 9.
9. The Jets fans blame the injuries and absences and still try and make a case for being the better team.
10. I sleep like a fucking baby.