Rex Ryan was felled by his own hubris. His best characteristics — his confidence, unwillingness to change, and monolithic ear to his own voice and only tuning fork — are what made him overtly unadaptable to progress.
The NFC and AFC North titles will be fought for by iconic franchises, in sacred arenas; just 60 minutes of mayhem in old, cold NFL towns.
Putting the Knicks on national television on Dec. 25 is equal parts sadism and masochism. They’re off to the worst start in team history, which is saying a lot when you consider how bad they’ve been.
When you take a three-tiered approach of age, wage and skills, is there another receiver in the NFL you would pick today over Big Blue’s nuclear threat?
This isn’t just about Fan Guy or the Jets’ current plunge down the rungs of relevance. This isn’t even about the gritty game they played Sunday. It’s about the zero sum reality of pro football and the Jets’ unwillingness to abide by it.
With more dueling monologues than a presidential campaign, it’s sounding more and more like Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Manny Pacquiao will fight next year.
Alex Rodriguez is like that stranger in a frontier town, swinging the saloon doors open for the first time, scanning the room for something or someone familiar, only to be met with scowls and empty gazes.
If you look, you’ll see the winning organizations are more organic in their success. It starts, like it often does, with ownership, which is where we hit our dead end on Seventh Avenue.
Leading the reported crusade to find the Jets’ next head coach is Woody Johnson, which makes sense. What doesn’t make any sense is his wingman on the endeavor, general manager John Idzik.
The bell has tolled for Brian Hoyer. And he never really had a chance. It’s showtime for Johnny Manziel. An entirely different show than the one to which he’s become so accustomed.
The Yanks have devolved from stalkers to prey, from the monetary monoliths to members of the mediocrity.
How fitting that the city with the most elaborate subway system on Earth has landed on the third rail of American discourse.
If you insist that the Knicks are one play or one player from the top, then you’re not only impossible to take seriously, but you also cheat yourself out of the outhouse-to-penthouse thrill of a championship.
This is not because Rodgers beat Brady last week. The game was whisker-close and you could easily argue that the Patriots would win a rematch on a neutral field. This is about stats, scent, and sense.
This is delicious. One day after I blast Carmelo Anthony for having a monolithic devotion to being rich rather than enriching his teammates, word slips out that his heart was truly divided.