Now that you've awoken from your rage induced coma, hear me out. As we all know, the Jets are a sad gaggle of clowns masquerading as a football team. But if there's one thing sport movies have taught me, it's that underdogs always win. Here is my prediction for the Jets' 2013 season.
METLIFE STADIUM: THANKSGIVING
(Mark Sanchez takes the ball and immediately faceplants into his teammate's ass, buttfumbling the game and his dignity away. The fans let out a groan.)
FAN#1: You suck, Sanchez!
FAN#2: And to think I skipped out on my family's thanksgiving dinner to watch this game.
(The Patriots score two more times in under a minute and the Jets are blown out in hilarious fashion. Mark Sanchez walks out of the locker room looking sad. Some fans throw garbage at him.)
FAN#3: Get out of New York, Sanchez! Nobody wants you anymore!
(Tom Brady rolls by in a sports car filled with supermodels and cocaine.)
TOM BRADY: Hey, no hard feelings, Sanchez. Maybe you'll beat us one of these days. Not!
(He zooms off, splashing Sanchez with mud.)
MARK SANCHEZ'S APARTMENT
(Mark Sanchez walks through the door of his run down apartment.)
SANCHEZ: Hey baby, I'm home. We lost. Again. (no answer) Baby?
(He walks into the bedroom and finds all his girlfriend's stuff missing. There's a note on the bed. He picks it up and reads it.)
NOTE: Your a loser, Mark. I'm leaving you for a real man.
(At the bottom of the note is a picture of Tom Brady. In marker it says, "Looks like I win again, Sanchez. Booyah!" Sanchez crumples it up and throws it across the room. He turns on the tv.)
TV: Now, for sports news. The Jets. Dear god, they suck.
REX RYAN'S OFFICE
REXY: Good *expletive*. You're all here. Now, that last game *expletive* was a real *expletive* *expletive*.
(Tebow covers his ears.)
REXY: Sanchez, I *expletive* love you. Your feet are as smooth and soft as a baby's soft luscious wonderful...
SANCHEZ: Coach, you're salivating again.
REXY: But the fans *expletive* can't stand you, and so I have to sit you for a we*expletive*ek. Greg, you're the starter.
TEBOW: But I thought I was the second string-
REXY: Dear fucking *expletive* Christ, Tebow! Shut up and *expletive* go back to your hole before I trade you to Oakland! How did you get in here anyway? I thought I *expletive* locked you out of the building!
TEBOW: I crawled through the heating duct.
REXY: Greg, I'm gonna make you a star.
ANNOUNCER: And that's sack number eleven for Greg McElroy! Wow, does this team suck!
MARK SANCHEZ'S APARTMENT: SEVERAL MONTHS LATER
(Empty bottles litter the apartment floor. Sanchez sits alone in his chair, looking at newspaper clippings of himself in his USC days.)
SANCHEZ: I was a real somebody once. I was gonna be a star.
(He takes a long swig of liquor and lies back. There is a knock on the door.)
SANCHEZ: Go away!
(Tebow opens the door.)
SANCHEZ: What do you want?
TEBOW: The coach sent me to go get you. It's opening game, Mark.
TEBOW: You've been holed up in here for six months. You smell really bad.
SANCHEZ: Just shut up and help me put on my pants. When does the game start?
TEBOW: It's already started.
SANCHEZ: Who's playing quarterback?
TEBOW: Well, the coach was going to put in Greg, but then he realized he'd already publicly humiliated me once by doing that, so he decided it would be even meaner to pass me over for nobody. The center's just snapping the ball to thin air right now.
(Sanchez finally stumbles onto the field in his disheveled uniform. He looks up at the scoreboard. Patriots 55, Jets 0.)
ANNOUNCER: And what's this? Mark Sanchez is coming on to the field! Let's see if he can turn this score around.
(Sanchez lines up behind Nick Mangold.)
SANCHEZ: Down. Set!
MANGOLD: Dude, are you drunk?
SANCHEZ: Shut up and snap the ball.
(Sanchez drops back and immediately throws a pick six.)
ANNOUNCER: This is going to be a long season.
JETS PRACTICE FACILITY
(Mark Sanchez is throwing passes to his receivers. He misses big time.)
JEREMY KERLEY: You suck, Sanchez!
SANCHEZ: You want to take over for me for a minute?
TEBOW: No. Coach says I'm not allowed to throw in practice anymore. Not since the incident.
SANCHEZ: Hey, who's that?
(A new player is on the field, kicking field goals.)
SANCHEZ: Did we sign a new kicker?
(The kicker makes a seventy yard field goal with perfect accuracy.)
TEBOW: Hey, he's pretty good.
(The new player comes towards them and takes their helmet off. Long black hair spills out. The new player is a *record scratch* GIRL!?!?!?!?!?)
(Rex Ryan comes up from behind.)
REXY: Say hello *expletive* to Lauren Silberman, our *expletive* new kicker.
REXY: With those *expletive* Giants *expletive* getting *expletive* all *expletive* the *expletive* headlines,
(Tebow runs away crying.)
REXY: I figured, what better way to get New York talking about us than signing a *expletive* broad to play for us. I *expletive* tried to make it so she’d have to wear a pink jersey *expletive* but Goodell wouldn’t let me. Turns out she’s ac*expletive*tually pretty good. Lauren, kick a field goal.
LAUREN: You got it, coach.
(She sets up the ball and boots it through the uprights more than a hundred yards away.)
REXY: She’s got one hell of a foot on her. One hell of a foot. (starts panting like a dog.)
ANNOUNCER: It’s a beautiful day for football, ladies and gentlemen. Too bad the Giants are out of town this week so we have to settle for the Jets. Oh, and here comes our pathetic excuse for a football team now!
(The Jets come out of the tunnel to a chorus of boos. The game starts. The other team kicks off the ball, and the Jets return man muffs it and falls down on it at the one yard line. Mark Sanchez puts on his helmet and starts to run out on the field.)
REXY: Hold on there, Sanchez. We’re going with a different formation.
SANCHEZ: You’re putting Tebow out?
REXY: Not a fucking chance. Silberman! Get your *expletive* out there!
SANCHEZ: Your kicking a field goal?
ANNOUNCER: What’s this? The Jets are sending out female kicker Lauren Silberman.
(The crowd starts booing more loudly. Lauren kicks a 99 yard field goal, and they suddenly start cheering.)
ANNOUNCER: Holy cow! A 99 yarder! The Jets are up by three!
SANCHEZ: (amazed) Wow!
REXY: With her, we don’t even need an offense.
(Cue montage of Lauren Silberman kicking field goal after field goal and winning game after game, with Mark Sanchez sitting on the bench looking more and more depressed.)
AFTER GAME PARTY
(The Jets are in a rented room of a restaurant celebrating their latest win.)
REXY: Congratulations, everyone. Not you, Tebow, you poor dumb bastard. We *expletive* are only one win away from making the *expletive* playoffs.
(Cheers all around.)
REXY: And it’s all thanks to Silberman here.
LAUREN: Oh come on coach. I couldn’t have done it without the rest of the team.
SANCHEZ: (muttering) The rest of the team except for me.
(He gets up and leaves. Going into the bathroom, he hears someone crying in the stall. He opens it and sees Tebow.)
SANCHEZ: Tebow, are you crying?
TEBOW: No. Ok, yes. I used to be something, Mark. Back in Florida I was the man. I was a hero. That Tim Tebow, he’s gonna go make history, he’s gonna be a star, they used to say.
SANCHEZ: We were really something once, weren’t we?
TEBOW: Yeah, we really were.
(Mark walks out sadly. Lauren is waiting in the hall.)
LAUREN: Mark, is something wrong?
SANCHEZ: What do you care?
LAUREN: We’re teammates, Mark.
SANCHEZ: Teammates? I’m not even part of the team anymore! I just sit on the bench every week and watch you win.
LAUREN: Why can’t you just be glad that we’re winning?
SANCHEZ: Because I’m supposed to be the one winning! Not you! You’re just some gimmick brought in here to upstage me and grab headlines! You weren’t supposed to be good. You’re Tebow all over again. And here I am, the guy who was supposed to be the savior, watching his chance for glory being stolen by a damn girl!
LAUREN: Oh, so that’s what you think about me?
SANCHEZ: I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.
LAUREN: Enjoy the party.
(She storms off. Sanchez follows her.)
SANCHEZ: Lauren, wait.
LAUREN: Fuck you, Mark!
SANCHEZ: Lauren, I’m sorry!
(She gets in her car and drives off.)
JETS PRACTICE FIELD: MIDNIGHT
(Mark Sanchez angrily throws balls at a target, missing every time.)
LAUREN: Your stance is wrong.
(Mark looks up. She’s standing there watching him. She comes over and takes a ball.)
LAUREN: Here. Try it like this.
(She hits the target dead on.)
SANCHEZ: I thought you hated me.
LAUREN: I do. But you’re still my teammate.
(Sanchez throws and misses.)
LAUREN: Look, I know you’re mad at me for stealing your spotlight.
SANCHEZ: I’m not mad at you Lauren. I’m mad at myself. I shouldn’t have said what I did. You’re not just some gimmick. You’re the best kicker I’ve ever seen. A lot better than I am at quarterback.
(He throws another ball and misses.)
SANCHEZ: Damn it!
LAUREN: Here, try this.
(She pulls a wristband out of her pocket and hands it to him.)
LAUREN: This belonged to my brother. He was a quarterback and he wore this to every game. When he had it on, he couldn’t lose. If you wear it, I bet you’ll hit the target this time. Try it on.
SANCHEZ: That doesn’t make any sense.
LAUREN: Just do it.
(He puts it on.)
SANCHEZ: This is stupid.
LAUREN: Throw the ball Mark.
(He takes a ball and looks at the target.)
LAUREN: I believe in you, Mark.
(He throws the ball and hits the target.)
SANCHEZ: I hit it! Does this thing really work?
LAUREN: Of course it doesn’t stupid. It’s just a wristband. But you believed you would hit that target, didn’t you?
SANCHEZ: Yeah. I did. And I bet I can hit it again.
(He throws another ball and hits it.)
LAUREN: You’ve got it!
SANCHEZ: Now let’s do it without magic.
(He takes the wristband off and throws another ball. He hits the target.)
SANCHEZ: I can do it. I can actually do it!
LAUREN: You always could, Mark.
SANCHEZ: Hey, go long.
(She runs out and he throws a perfect rainbow pass to her in the endzone.)
SANCHEZ: I can do it.
(The Jets run out onto the field to wild cheering.)
ANNOUNCER: This is it, folks. If the Jets beat Pittsburgh today, they are in the playoffs.
(The Steelers kick the ball off and the Jets return it to the 23 yard line.)
REXY: *expletive* Alright, field goal *expletive* unit, get in there!
SANCHEZ: Hey Lauren, good luck.
(She winks at him.)
ANNOUNCER: And Lauren Silberman goes out to try a 77 yard field goal. This should be an easy three points for the phenom kicker.
(Lauren lines up to kick. He runs forward and swings her leg at the ball, missing horribly. She falls over, grabbing her leg and grimacing. Her teammates crowd around her and Rex Ryan runs onto the field.)
REXY What the *expletive* fucking *expletive* is wrong?
LAUREN: I hurt myself, coach. I think I pulled a muscle.
(As she limps back to the sideline, she smiles at Sanchez.)
SANCHEZ: You didn’t…
REXY: Sanchez, get *expletive* in there. And try not to lose by too much.
(The offense huddles up.)
SANCHEZ: Okay, I don’t think the coach even wrote up a playbook for us, so let’s just play it by ear, okay? Break!
ANNOUNCER: We’re going to lose, folks. There’s no hope left anymore. No hope at all.
SANCHEZ: I’m really starting to hate that guy. Down, set, hike!
(The ball is snapped. Mark Sanchez drops back and prepares to throw. He sees Santonio Holmes running across the middle. He closes his eyes.)
LAUREN (V.O.): I believe in you, Mark.
(He opens his eyes and throws a perfect pass to Santonio Holmes. The crowd goes silent.)
ANNOUNCER: Did he… did he just complete a pass?
(The crowd erupts into cheering.)
REXY: Well I’ll be damned.
(Cue montage of Mark Sanchez leading the Jets to victory.)
ANNOUNCER: And the game is over! The Jets are going to the playoffs!
FAN #1: I love you!
FAN #2: I love you too!
(The team rushes onto the field and lifts Mark Sanchez onto their shoulders and carry him off the field.)
(Long montage of the Jets winning game after game.)
ANNOUNCER: The day has finally arrived, fans! Your New York Jets are taking on the New England Patriots for the AFC crown! The winner of this game will take on Seattle in two weeks in this very stadium!
(The Jets are getting ready in the locker room.)
REXY: Alright you *expletive*s. This is it, the big moment. Now, I know these guys creamed us before this season. And then again. But that was before Mark Sanchez inexplicably turned out not to be horrible. Now let’s go give these turds a game to remember!
(Lauren Silberman is in the hallway coming out of the bathroom. Tom Brady is standing by the wall watching her.)
TOM BRADY: Hi there.
LAUREN: Go away.
TOM BRADY: You’re a pretty good kicker. You know, for a girl.
LAUREN: Gee, thanks.
TOM BRADY: I usually only go out with supermodels, waitresses, prostitutes, actresses, singers, and random women I pick up in bars with my good looks. Oh, and my wife too. But I think I could do a football player. How would you like to be another notch on Tom Brady’s belt?
LAUREN: Yeah, I don’t think so.
TOM BRADY: Come on, baby, you know you want me.
(He grabs her and kisses her. Just then, Mark Sanchez walks by and sees them. He keeps walking, looking devastated.)
LAUREN: Let go of me, you creep!
(She pushes him away and storms off.)
TOM BRADY: So is that a maybe?
(The Jets take the field. Mark Sanchez lines up.)
SANCHEZ: Green 52! Green 52!
(He looks at Tom Brady and then Lauren Silberman.)
(He throws a wild pass that gets intercepted.)
REXY: Damn it all to *expletive*!
(Sanchez makes it back to the sideline.)
REXY: What the hell is wrong with you?
SANCHEZ: Sorry coach. I messed up.
LAUREN: Are you alright?
SANCHEZ: Like you even care.
(The Patriots score and Sanchez goes back out again. He throws a pick six.)
REXY: That’s it, Sanchez. I’m *expletive* sitting you.
REXY: Alright, we’re being clobbered right now. I don’t even feel like swearing anymore. But I think if Silberman keeps giving us three points every possession, we can get back in this as long as the defense holds up.
TEBOW: I can play, coach.
REXY: Shut up, Tebow. Alright men, let’s go out there.
(They leave, except for Mark Sanchez.)
LAUREN: Mark, are you coming?
SANCHEZ: What’s it to you?
LAUREN: What’s your problem?
REXY: Silberman, hurry up and get out here!
(Cue montage of the game. There is one minute left in the game, and the Patriots score a touchdown, making the score 37-33.)
LAUREN: Coach, we’re down by four points. We need to send in the offense if we want to win.
REXY: Crap. Alright, Sanchez, get out there. Sanchez? Where did he go?
LAUREN: I didn’t see him come out of the locker room.
REXY: Well that’s just perfect. McElroy died in a car crash and Sanchez is gone. Now we don’t have a quarterback.
TEBOW: I can do it, coach.
REXY: Tebow, shut up.
TEBOW: Coach. I can do it.
LAUREN: We don’t have a choice, coach.
REXY: Alright, Tebow. This goes against everything I’ve ever known, but go in.
(Tebow runs onto the field.)
ANNOUNCER: And with less than a minute of play and the season on the line, Tim Tebow takes the field.
(Tebow drops back to pass and misses horribly. He drops back again and throws an incompletion.)
ANNOUNCER: Third and ten and the whole field to go.
(Tebow drops back and throws an incompletion.)
ANNOUNCER: Fourth and ten. This next play could decide the whole season.
(Tebow lines up.)
TEBOW: The whole season’s on the line. I can do this. I can do it. Down! Set! (under his breath) That Tim Tebow, he’s gonna go make history. He’s gonna be a star. (out loud) Hike!
(He drops back to throw. He stands in the pocket.)
TEBOW: He’s gonna be star.
(Tebow looks down at the football.)
TEBOW: I can do this.
(He pulls in the ball and starts running. He breaks through a tackle and stretches the ball across the first down line.)
REXY: Time out! Time out!
(Tebow gets to his feet. He is wearing his Florida Gators uniform now. The stadium has transformed into the Florida University field. Tebow lines up.)
CROWD: Tebow! Tebow! Tebow!
(He takes the ball and starts running, the crowd cheering "Tebow!" all around him. The Patriots have become the Oklahoma Sooners as he rushes by them. He sees the endzone in the distance.)
TEBOW: I can do it. I can do it.
CROWD: Tebow! Tebow!
REXY: Well I’ll be damned.
(He runs in slow motion.)
ANNOUNCER: Tebow’s at the forty, the thirty, the twenty, the ten!
(Tebow reaches out for the endzone, only to be hit from the side by a defender hard enough to knock his helmet off. He falls over, and the illusion fades. Metlife stadium comes back and Tebow is wearing his Jets uniform again. The ball rolls out of his hand.)
LAUREN: He’s not getting up.
(His teammates crowd around him.
MANGOLD: He’s not moving.
(They form a circle around Tebow, arms spread out like Jesus on the cross.)
ANNOUNCER: Tim Tebow… is dead.
(His teammates take his body and carry it off the field.)
REXY: Now what? We have one second left on the clock and no quarterback.
SANCHEZ: Yes you do.
(Mark Sanchez walks out of the tunnel.)
SANCHEZ: Put me in coach.
REXY: Alright, get in there.
(Mark Sanchez goes out on the field. Tom Brady waves Vince Wilfork over.)
TOM BRADY: Sweep the leg.
(Wilfork stares at him in shock.)
TOM BRADY: Do you have a problem with that?
WILFORK: No, Sensei.
TOM BRADY: No mercy.
(The Jets huddle up.)
SANCHEZ: This is it, guys. Let’s do this for Tebow.
JETS: For Tebow!
(They line up.)
SANCHEZ: Down, set!
WILFORK: No mercy.
(Wilfork burst through the line and goes after Sanchez. He hits him in the leg and takes him down. Before Mark’s knees hit the ground, he throws the ball and Jeremy Kerley catches it for a touchdown.)
ANNOUNCER: It’s over! The Jets are going to the Superbowl!
(The team runs onto the field. Tom Brady falls to his knees.)
BILL BELICHICK: You have failed me for the last time, Brady. Your punishment will be worse than death.
TOM BRADY: No, you can’t mean…
BILL BELICHICK: Yes. Prepare to play for the Bills.
TOM BRADY: Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!
(Lauren throws her arms around Mark Sanchez and kisses him.)
SANCHEZ: But what about Tom Brady?
LAUREN: What about him?
SANCHEZ: I saw you kissing before the game.
LAUREN: You thought I was with that creep? Hell no! He kissed me I told him off. I love you, Mark.
SANCHEZ: You do?
(Kerley comes with the Lamar Hunt Trophy.)
KERLEY: You gonna hold this up with me?
(They hoist the trophy together and it ends in a freeze frame.)
The Jets then get annihilated by the Seahawks two weeks later.