The state of fanaticism.

My father was both a Jets and Giants fan when I was growing up. He still supports the Giants, although I am slightly less than indifferent towards them. When I was approximately four years old, my mother sat me down in the small library in my parents' house in New York, and showed me a table of the primary and secondary colors. She then asked me which was my favorite, and I pointed to green. Since I had the opportunity to pick between the two New York football teams, I chose the one which sported my favorite color: the New York Jets. For most of my life, I believed that I had cursed myself, and I wished that I had liked blue.

One of my father's good friends worked for a company who owned Jets season tickets. They gave four tickets to one game each season to my dad's friend, Jim. Every year, Jim let me, my dad, and one of my friends attend this game. The seats were generally behind one of the endzones, but I didn't care. I loved being in the stadium. The fans, the camaraderie, the cheering, the sea of green temporarily painting over the red and blue seats, I loved it all. To this day, during gametime, there is not one single place in the world I would rather be than at the Jets game, be it home or away.

As a fourteen year old boy, I threw up after the Doug Brien game. That was the first of two times I felt physically ill to the point at which I vomited due to a sports game. The second was when the 2005 Yankees were eliminated from the ALDS against the Angels.

When I was sixteen years old in 2006, I got my first job at a local Country Club for the sole purpose of saving enough money to buy season tickets. This was directly following a 4-12 season. I bought my tickets in Section 331 on eBay for $485 each, $215 under face value. I had hoped that this would be the first of continuous years during which I would have season tickets, but the following year I intensified a serious alcoholism and drug addiction, and was thrown out of school for the second time. I then went to rehab in Utah, and I ended up missing the entire 2007 season, yet another 4-12 debacle. I, however, picked up right where I left off upon graduation from treatment, being the marginally-insane Jets fan that I am. I enrolled at the University of Utah, watched every game, and traveled to attend three of them. For one of these games, my roommate and I awoke at 7:30 AM on a Sunday, flew to Oakland, and flew right back to Salt Lake City after the game. Heartbreaking, gut-wrenching loss.

Side note: my rehabilitation was successful. I am still sober to this day. Two years, seven months, 21 days and counting.

As much as my time in Utah was necessary for personal development, it hurt me to watch home games on TV. I made the decision to transfer back to a local university midway through the fall semester. I kept a reserve in my bank account at all times, because I knew that as soon as I was moving back to New York or New Jersey, I was buying season tickets. Immediately. I accepted my offer of admission to Rutgers University last May, and one week later I bought my tickets, Section 107 Row 25 Seat 7. I drove my car back from Salt Lake City in early August, and made sure to be here on time for the Jets first preseason game against the Rams. I have attended each home game this season, the playoff game in San Diego, and I will be in attendance in Indianapolis.

Amongst everybody that I know, I have formed the reputation as the world's biggest Jets fan. I know many of you may refute that claim, but I strongly believe it. Although I own an egregious amount of Jets jerseys, T-shirts, hats, and other apparel and memorabilia, I believe that the definition of a true fan is not materialistic. The emotional connection to this team is what defines a fan. I cannot sleep on the night before gameday. The elation, pride, love, and joy I feel after a victory provides me with an emotional floor that I cannot submerge beneath throughout the course of the week. Reciprocally, the depression, sickness, anger, and disgust I feel after a loss makes it impossible for me to feel happier than a certain degree until the following Sunday.

I'm a sick fuck. I know it. And I don't give a shit.

Having said all this, I must say that I am experiencing a lot of confusion about the current state of the Jets. The past month has probably been the the happiest of my life. It almost feels like I'm dreaming, because I am so accustomed to being disappointed. We have been ending our seasons with "maybe next year" for the past 41 years, and although this year is not yet over, I am very confident that, well, "maybe this year" feels more appropriate.

Win or lose on Sunday, I am so fucking proud of this team. And due to my emotional attachment to the Jets, win or lose on Sunday, I am so fucking proud of myself.

Now lets get this shit done.

 

thank you. and fuck no.

 

hey asshole. the point of this thread is that im sure there are a lot of people on this board who can relate to what i wrote. you, obviously, are not one of them. so get the fuck out of here.

 

lol dont worry about me i got that under control. im at rutgers son you know how it is.

 

i understand what youre saying but thats not how an addiction works. its an emotional disease, not a physical dependence.