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November 19, 2009 6:49 AM

It's a C-ryan shame for Jets fans

sad, fat rex.jpgSo the enormous son, of the enormous coach, hauls the enormous ego and enormous mouth he got from his enormous dad to, of all places, the Big Apple. He talks big, because if there's one thing he understands, it's big.

Upon arriving, he grabs the press and his new team in New York like some sort of double-whopper and swallows them, and anybody else in his way whole. He's on a serious roll, and preferably, a hard one with plenty of roast beef and mayo.

Now, only nine games after scarfing all that down, it has finally occurred to the enormous coach just what an enormous task he took on when he became the head coach of one of the NFL's most enormous losers.

BUUUUUURRRP!

Maybe his eyes were somehow bigger than his stomach. Or maybe you shouldn't have ordered fries with that whine and burger, buddy -- er, Rex. Either way, all this indigestion has brought the Jets coach to tears. Can a heart attack be that far off?

Oh, to be a beat-writer for the New York Jets these days...

To hear most Jets fans tell it they've been pretty pleased to have Buddy's boy, Rex Ryan, leading their perpetually under-performing football team. The players apparently love him, too. There isn't a thing the big guy won't say, or do -- or eat.

I guess he's like the cool camp counselor who doesn't believe in curfew. He's a gigantic rebel who plays by his own rules. And you should hear him while he's scarfing down marshmallows while sitting around the camp fire. Hilarious.

Anyway, while addressing his team Monday, following another loss the day before, Buddy's boy started to cry.

So here's what I don't get if I'm a Jets fan:
You have been waiting 40 years for your incompetent team to win another championship.
You have endured over 600 games and seven different presidents while waiting for your squad to do some sort of imitation of Weeb, Joe Willie and the boys' spectacular Super Bowl run in 1969.

You have endured as losers like Charlie Winner (seriously), Joe Walton, Bruce Coslet and Rich Kotite mis-coached your club. You have seen exactly two divisional titles during these awful 40 years. Hell, you've even watched your team play its 'home' games in Giants Stadium, for crissakes!  

I can imagine there's been times when YOU have almost been brought to tears by it all, but you've soldiered on and hoped for the best, while understandably expecting the worst.

So this year, along comes this enormous coach with an enormous appetite for everything, including, presumably, wins. You, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and rally for the new year ahead.

Things start well, as the enormous coach leads your Jets to a 3-0 record. Then the team does what most Jets teams do, and falls comfortably back into the middle of the pack.
At 4-5 your team is not really in the thick of anything, but it's not quite out of anything, either.
Where there's hope...   

Then, as your team prepares for its Alamo up in New England this Sunday, you find out your enormous coach has been crying to his team.
After nine -- NINE! --freaking games this enormous coach, with the enormous mouth, and the enormous ego has been brought to tears?!

What, did he think winning here would be as easy as ordering fast-food?! What, you simply pick up the phone and tell 'em what you want and it arrives on your table ready to eat?! What the...?
This is the Jets, dude! What happened to all that big talk, and all those big promises?
Now you're crying?!  

And then it strikes you: This isn't going to end well.
So you decide that it might be best to skip the game Sunday. Maybe you'll just order out.

(nj.com photo)

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