Last night was a tumultuous one for football fanatics everywhere, but no one was biting their nails more than Jets fans. Year after year, season after season, we either fall miserably short of mediocrity, or just miss greatness during the regular season, and every fan convinces themselves over the course of the next 5 months that we will fix all the problems we have in the draft.

Unfortunately, that usually does not happen, and Gang Green typically soils the bed on draft night and leaves the masses in the Tri State area wishing they had grown up a few hundred miles across the Long Island Sound. The jets are synonmous with draft disasters: Ken O’Brien, Richard Todd, Vernon Gholston, and most recently that wet sponge Christian Hackenburg. So going into last night, I was pretty much banking on a disaster. I’ve been on the Sam Darnold trade for a minute now, but I have to be honest, within the last year I have developed such a football boner for Baker Mayfield that he is all Ive been thinking about. He’s just so fucking cool. Everything he does is dope, guy can sling he rock, hit his dougie, and he has a criminal record. What more could I ask for?

As the hours crept closer and closer and mock drafts started projecting Baker to land in NY, my pants seemed to get shorter and shorter. I was willing to ignore/ embrace the Johnny Manziel comparisons, because Johnny Manziel is the man, and I was hoping somehow if Baker got drafted here he would follow Johnnys party boy lifestyle, and I would be able to track his location to an NYC nightclub where I would offer him free weed and then infiltrate his inner circle and wed be best friends for life. I’d be his best man at his wedding, hed be the Godfather of my first son and he would weep with tears when I die at the age of 63 in a high speed Vespa chase.

Great plan, I know.

Sadly, my dreams of being the Turtle to Mayfields Vinny Chase were viciously ripped from my chest as the shit stain Browns stole him from me with the first pick. This is live footage of me almost crashing my car into a Mobil Station as I watched the pick in real time.

Sad. So sad. As this happened I contemplated two things:

1. Putting my car in reverse and letting it slowly roll over my sternum until my chest cavity collapsed and I was put out of my misery

2. Gather my senses and hope for the best with pick 3.

I regrettably chose the latter, and watched in horror to see how the Jets would surely fuck up the pick. I could see it all unfold before me “And with the third pick, the New York Jets select….J.T. BARRETT”. (Cue riots in Time Square)

I know that sounds ridiculous but its actually something I could see the Jets doing. Thankfully, I didn’t have to shower with my moms new air fryer, as Woody called in the right pick. The perfect pick. The logical pick. Sammy Fuckin Sunshine.

I can’t stress enough how content I am with this decision. Of course there is a part of me that thinks that New York will eat Darnold alive and he will be a shell of a human by year 2, but a stronger part of me believes this could be the piece we need. His numbers this past year at USC were disappointing compared to his breakout 2016 season, but he lost key weapons, and I have a feeling that Quincy Enunwa and Robbie Anderson (if he can stop acting like hes living inside a GTA V simulation) will bring out the best in Sam.

The quarterback situation couldn’t be more ideal either. With McCown coming off a career year, and the Jets securing Teddy Bridgewater in the offseason, Darnold will likely sit at the 2-3 spot going into Mini camp, and hopefully stay there for the better part, if not the entirety of the season. The worst thing that can happen to Sammy boy is for him to get thrown into the fire right away, and at least for know it does not look like that will happen. If he gets time to learn the system, and absorb some knowledge from Josh McCown he could easily be a proficient starting option by 2019. The kids only 20, and had every scout and expert creaming themselves since he was 18, so his upside is very apparent.

I dont like to say this kind of stuff about the Jets because they are largely a source of disappointment in my life, similar to when my mom told me I couldn’t play the guitar and instead would have to play the cello. No one looks cool playing the cello. Sam Darnold probably could though, and I cant wait for him to be stringing the Jets to victory with precision and elegance like Yo Yo Ma at Carnegie Hall.

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