Everytime I think I’ve told every story there is to tell on this blog I think of something I’ve never metioned before, like how the New York Jets are partly responsible for my moving to Los Angeles in 1999.
I just finished watching the Jets lose on Monday Night Football but I took the loss in stride, when you’re a Jet fan, losing comes with the territory. I simply changed the channel to catch the season premiere of How I Met Your Mother and then headed for the blogging machine because I remembered that I hadn’t always taken the losses so well.
In January of 1999 The Jets found themselves one game away from The Super Bowl, only the Broncos and John Elway stood in their way. By halftime of the AFC Championship game the Jets has a lead and only 30 minutes of clock to kill to make it to The Super Bowl for the first time in my life. The last time the Jets were that close I was 7 years old; when they lost to the Dolphins in the 1982 AFC title game on that muddy field I swore I’d hate the Dolphins forever…and then I cried. In 1999 I didn’t cry when the game ended, I left my uncle’s house and started to drive home. It was as cold as you’d expect a mid January Long Island night to be and as I drove home in silence, because I could not bear to turn on WFAN, it started to snow and I started to think of a girl I had broken up with a few months before. We split up under bad circumstances at the start of the NFL season, but I had work and football (and booze) to keep my mind off of the fact that I was crushed. Now, on a cold snowy Sunday night, The Jets season was over, the radio was off and I had the next day off of work. I had an empty apartment to look forward to and nothing to distract my mind. That’s when I started to cry.
When I got home I called that girl, while it was getting late on Long Island it was still early for her because shortly after we split she moved to Los Angeles. I called her and I cried; she told me that it would be OK, the Jets would be back next year, but I wasn’t that upset about the game and she knew it. I called her the next day, and then again the day after that. Three weeks later I flew to LA to visit her and six weeks after that I lived with her. It was a whirlwind of events that started with a phone call about a football game. I wonder how my life might have changed had the Jets won that night.
P.S.- Eventually the girl in this post and I split up for good (but not before this happened). She and I remain friends and I owe her one because if not for her I would never have been in LA to meet the girl I married, who consoles me every time the Jets lose.