Big Brett's last night on the bench

No one debates the utter uselessness and flagrant ripoffhood of the NFL preseason. Oh sure, we understand the importance of letting rookies and backups audition for jobs, as well as the necessity of getting the veterans physically acclimated to the rigors of the season, but from a fan's perspective they're a sham. It'd be one thing if they were marketed like the scrimmage games they are with cut-rate tickets and such, but they're nationally televised and included in all season ticket package. All so loyal paying customers can go sit in a half-empty stadium and see their favourite players sit around and watch the same half-assed game as the fans are forced to watch. Fuck you, NFL.

And yet Sports Illustrated's premiere well-fed latté-addict Peter King took the time a couple weeks ago to scold Jets fans, most of whom live on Long Island, a two-hour one-way drive from Giants Stadium, for not showing up to check out the Brettster's public debut in their laundry of choice. The stadium was half-empty, he opines. Boo fucking hoo. King, keep in mind, gets a press-box buffet and his gas reimbursed if he goes to a game. And he seems to think that, five years from now, this meaningless charade, in which Favre took about ten snaps, will be remembered as the big guy's Jets debut. Bullshit. Favre's Jets debut occurs next weekend. No one's gonna remember who they played five days from now.

The next day King defended himself against a deluge of hate mail by claiming that when the Knicks sign LeBron in a couple years, the garden's gonna be packed for the first exhibition game. Fine, King. Note, by the way, that the Garden is conveniently located in the middle of Manhattan and seats about half as many patrons as Giants Stadium. So if the stadium was half-full, we may conclude... that King is woefully out of touch with actual football fans.

Having said that... the wife and I were eager to shell out $30 a ducat to some online scalper when the boys came to Philly this past Thursday for their final preseason "tilt" with the local green before the games start counting. We showed our green pride in more ways than one, including traveling to the stadium via bicycles with a few sixers in tow for a bit of bike-gating. We were given a friendly razzing for our environmentally conscious ways by a nearby family of Eags fans who showed up for the game in a school bus painted green with a satellite dish on the roof, a plasma TV hung on the back door, a full liquor bar and a license plate that read TAILG8.

I was given exactly zero shit for wearing a Jets jersey (Mo Lewis, #57, wreckanize, foo') from anyone but the beer-stand lady, who threatened to withhold my change until I denounced the Mets (I stood firm). I guess the only good thing I can say about preseason games is that everybody's still undefeated, so Philly phans aren't homicidally furious yet. Give 'em a month.

And as for the game? Well, I'd never been to a preseason game before and I may not go again. As someone obsessed enough with the Jets that I have, on more than one occasion, gone to a game alone (yup, that was me), let me just say that preseason games barely make it across the worth-it line with a big group of friends and half-price tickets. I remember the game being close, and i remember the Jets winning, but i don't remember giving a shit. And I don't remember a single standout play.

Which brings us to our most important point: how'd Brett-boy look? Relaxed. He stood on the sideline the whole game. Rip. Off.