The Jets will take the field on Sunday like men six days sober. They will have clarity of purpose, but fresh memories of miserable failure. 6 days isn't even enough for anything other than the starter token. All they can do is stand up and admit they have a strong desire to live.
This is a winnable game for the jets. San Diego's 4-1 record comes against teams that are a combined 4-17. (The Jets are worse in that department, but that's not important right now.) The run defense is middling, Antonio Gates isn't particularly healthy, the Jets have had success against the Chargers in the past. For the most part, the Jets just have to consider what not to do. They can't drop passes on 3rd and long. On 3rd and short, the offensive line has to actually open holes and not just trust that their backs can become apparitions and float through defensive linemen. The defense has to end their bold experiment in playing football without a pass rush. It was fun, a lot of good data was collected, but at the moment, gentlemen, it would be great if you could refocus on getting a single goddamn sack that doesn't come during garbage time.
So how do they do all that? They've been remarkably inconsistent this year, even by their own ugly standards. Rex brought in Frankie Edgar to talk to the team, something he's done before. It's a nice idea, and it has worked well before, but should these men really need someone to urge them to fight? LT and Cromartie both bear the scars of doubt at the hands of Norv Turner. Shottenheimer's father was unceremoniously rejected by the organization. It has become apparent to anyone watching that yes, Plaxico Burress did lose a step in prison. They should all have something to prove, and the only opportunity for them to prove those points is Sunday, on the field, in the glorious, glorious game of football. Let your eyes fill with bloodlust, gentlemen, let your tongue dance with the memory of the sweet taste of revenge. Play football, and try not to fuck it up this time.
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