Woody Johnson bought the Jets franchise more for prestige than for investment. To a man with as much of a fortune as he has (and has coming), this was pocket change. But it gives him something to do... a purpose for getting up in the morning aside from attending a few philanthropic meetings and charitable events... a feeling he actually accomplished something business-like that day. I'm not trying to be cruel to Mr. Johnson, but this is just the way I see it. Along comes the notion of having the Jets build their own stadium after it becomes apparent his tenancy lease with the Giants is about to expire. So he goes on a Don Quixote-like search for the Impossible Dream... a place to build his very own toybox for this rather pleasurable if not temperamental toy, the NY Jets. "This will give me credibility, finally! Something I've actually done on my own!" "Alas! There's a place in Manhatten on the West Side! But, OMG, the cost. And what if it's a horrendous loser? What if the Jets don't play well and the fans won't come? I'll be ridiculed unmercifully and appear like just another failing little rich boy. No... can't have that." "So yes, Mr. Tisch and Mr. Mara, I'd be willing to share a stadium with you. We'll share the costs and both make money and that will go a long way to convincing people I'm not the binky-sucking, sniveling little panty-waist "trust fund baby" they think I am! And I'll actually make it profitable to legitimize my "business prowess," not that I ever had anything to do with the unbelievable success of my daddy's company, but what the hell!" So the stadium in the Meadowlands is announced and already, before the ink even dries, there's talk of escalating costs... highly escalating costs. And the Mara family is pushing the hell out of Woody to make it fancier still... "state of the art" now. And 5-star restaurants on the premises. WTF? And no more tailgating, the Maras don't want it... not profitable. And this is all going to cost tons of money to build. "Okay, Mr. Mara, I guess I'm with you on the PSLs. No other way out now because I'm in this up to my eyeballs and my reputation as a businessman is really on the line. Even though I'm just a graduate of the Millbrook School and not the Wharton School and was basically a party animal at ASU, I don't need to have people thinking I can't run something and still be profitable. I'm in." "Christ, what do I do now? Hey Mike, what can I do to sell these God-damn PSLs? Oh, Brett Favre might be available? He's pretty good, right? Okay, get him in here and I'm gonna set up this eBay auction... I know it sounds kinda weird but what the hell, let's see how many of these things we can stick... er, I mean, sell to my stupid suckers... er... I mean, my season ticketholders." "Hey, wait a minute now! Everything was going real good at 8-3, but now we're fucking losing? And just when my PSL sale fell flat on it's face too! What's this, now we can't even beat a fucking 3-12 Seattle team with an O-line (I think O-line stands for Offensive Line, right?... see? I am learning okay?)? "Well, call that fat little fuck Mangini into my office right now, I want to fire his pudgy little ass. Better yet, you do it Mike. You tell that fat pudgy little porkface he's finished. Washed up. Sick and tired of his stupid little press conferences anyway. This is the face of a franchise that I, Woody Johnson own? Walking around chewing gum? Jesus Christ! No way! "Now go ahead and do that and then you need to get me somebody as head coach who will draw people. Don't forget about these PSLs now, Mike. I'm really starting to look like somebody who doesn't know WTF he's doing and really, my ego just won't take that. I know I appear to be a sniveling little pile of parrot droppings compared to others in the business world who've made their own fortunes, people like that geeky little college dropout, Bill Gates, for example. But I can't have people thinking I'm a complete clutz! I'm going to sell these fucking PSLs if it's the last thing I do, otherwise I'll look like a real idiot. What's that you say? Some guy named Bill Coward or Cowher, is that how you say it?... He wants to talk directly to me? Hey, I've got an important uh... er... meeting in Brussels this weekend. My foundation needs me to uh... keynote speak on my favorite subject, "The Where-To-Fors of Philanthropic Endeavor - To Give or Not To Give, That Is The Question." Like that title? I came up with it in the shower this morning. Anyway, tell this guy Coward or Cowherd or Cowher or whatever it is that I'm out of town and you handle it." "And if he doesn't want to come aboard for whatever reason, just find us somebody else who can get these damned PSLs sold. That means appearing like we're actually building a winning franchise and making it look like that's the most important fucking thing in the world! I mean, of course we want to win Mike... never said we shouldn't do that, but you know what the bottom line is here. My stupid suckers... er... I mean season ticketholders won't lay out that kind of dough unless they think we're actually are in it to win. The stupid bastards... er... I mean, our enthusiastic fanbase actually think this is what we run this thing for, when you and I know it's for the money and the prestige. And I don't know about you, Mike, but I've never really had to run anything and be accountable for the bottom line, mainly because Johnson and Johnson makes money despite itself." "But this Jets thing is a way to vindicate that. I can prove everybody who ever thought I was a panty-waisted, silver spoon-fed little Momma's Boy that I'm a real man! A tough-minded businessman! That's why that pudgy little porker had to go and this is why we need to bring somebody in here who'll make it look like we're going places, at least for now, you know what I mean, Mike? I am not going to fall flat on my face with this God-damned Jets thing that I got myself into. I've got to sell these PSLs if it's the last thing I do... and everything else will take care of itself after that." "So get somebody hired and make it look like we give a shit. And give him carte-blanche for now. That ought to get the rest of these God-damned PSLs sold."
