'Twas the night before Jetsmas, when all through the land
The Jets were still losing, stuck in quicksand;
The quarterbacks were filling us up with despair,
Turnovers, not apple, were standard Jets fare;
Our children we've grown, a new generation of fans,
And each in their turn: "How could you do this to me?" demands.
Woody in his Jets tie, Rex in his sweater,
Keep telling us soon, so soon, things will get better.
But up in the front office, a vision so daft,
It could only be Idzik, prepping for the draft.
Last Jetsmas we were sold on a 12 course draft feast,
Soon we would be the Beast of the East.
New talent infused, new fortunes proclaimed,
As John Idzik stood, and called them by name.
Take Dougie, take Saunders, Shaq and Jeremiah;
Dixon, Enunwa and Boyd would catch fire.
But what to my cynical eyes should appear?
Why nothing at all; those picks are not here!
Receivers we needed, and cornerbacks, two
A safety, a guard, a quarterback too.
The draft is our lifeline, free agents fill holes
Such was the wisdom our GM proposed.
But what to my wondering eyes did we do?
We failed at safety, and cornerback too.
We failed at receiver, we failed on a guard,
But worse yet, we failed at QB, and failed very hard.
Endowed with the worst in all of the league,
We signed up for year two, despite fail fatigue.
Not to worry, Idzik the Frugal proclaimed
We're competitiony! There won't be more of the same.
And lo and behold, Idzik was proved right,
More of the same was not out fated plight.
No, more of the same was too good for us now;
Now more and different, as John Idzik vowed.
Different, oh yes, different and worse
So different it inspired this verse.
Now the wheels fell off, .500 but a dream;
This year we had our very worst team.
No championships, no playoffs, no AFC East wins;
And through it all Mr. Idzik stands there and grins.
"I have a plan, I've done it before."
As fans urge Woody to show him the door.
Fire Bradway! Fire Rex! Fire Idzik! they say.
Bah humbug! cries Woody, and scurries away.
Woody hired a Casserly, to get this one right
Will it work? Who knows? We hope it just might.
We're Jets fans, we've grown numb to the pain;
After this regime change we hope we won't see again,
In our near future, like A Groudhog's Day film
Yet another housecleaning in the Jets realm.
And so on this Jetsmas, a wish for us all
That the Jets may astonish us and not fall
Instead to our wonderment put an end to our rage,
In an era of playoffs, and titles, a Jets Golden Age.
I leave you with this hope more precious than gold
So you may tell your grandchildren when you've all grown old
Of the magical time in our lives when we could proclaimeth
We all saw an age even better than Namath's.
May this wish sustain us, in a time of no light.
Happy Jetsmas to all, and to all a good night.