Heave-Ho

Warning: This story may gross you out at the conclusion. Consider yourself warned.

My vomit streak may not rival that of Jerry Seinfeld's, but I mark the last day I upchucked as a significant one in my history as a football fan.

On December 29, 2002 the Jets were in the final week of a multi-team AFC playoff mishmash involving the Patriots, Dolphins and Cleveland Browns, one caused by an awful loss against the Bears a few weeks earlier. The Jets were facing the Packers at the Meadowlands at 4pm but needed the right combination of results at 1pm to set up a scenario by which beating Green Bay would mean a postseason spot. It had been an exciting, up-and-down season, one in which Chad Pennington made his first impact on the New York sports scene, taking over as the team's starting quarterback early in the season and leading them to several impressive wins. My dad and I had gone to the Meadowlands a couple of times that season and he suggested we make another trip. I resisted, partly because while football games provide a fun atmosphere, they're not necessarily better to view in person.

"I think this will play out better if we watch it on tv," I told him.

Around noonish, I went across the street from my apartment for lunch at a pizza place. For some reason, rather than get a couple of slices, I ordered a chicken parm hero and washed it down with a bottle of Orange Gatorade. It was not a good mixture.

Basically the Jets needed either the Browns to lose to the Falcons, or the Dolphins to lose to the Patriots to render their game meaningful and those two games caused their share of gastric distress on their own.

The Browns led 10-0, trailed 16-10, then went ahead in the fourth quarter and cemented their lead with just under four minutes to play when William Green's touchdown run put them in front 24-16.

Meanwhile, the Dolphins were dominating. Ricky Williams, who rushed for 185 yards, ran for two first-half scores and Miami's lead was rather comfy at 14-0, 21-10, and 24-13 with just under five minutes to play.

Now with my health issues gradually worsening, I decided that desperate times called for desperate actions. I gathered myself together, grabbed the remote control and moved, from my computer desk to an area maybe 18 inches from my television set and stretched out. It was time to invoke the power of "The Spot."

I wrote a lengthy essay on this after the fact (I've also seen articles on the subject by Bill Simmons), but to summarize, "The Spot" can be defined as the place that a sportsfan rests or contorts his/her body to bring good luck to a team. There is limited movement allowed, except in cases of emergency. Being in the spot requires maximum concentration and positive energy. The location varies from house to house and moment to moment, but a true fan has an intuitive sense as to where it should be at a particular time. In this case, it was lying down 18 inches from my TV.

I don't have an exact timeline of the events of the day, but as I recall it went something like this.

The Falcons drove the ball to Cleveland's four-yard line with less than two minutes remaining. The Patriots started a drive as well, but were still two scores behind, so I harnessed my energy towards Cleveland.

Warrick Dunn rushed for three yards on first down (So far so good), so it seemed reasonable that with three shots, Atlanta would score and get a two-point conversion chance. Dunn got stopped at the line of scrimmage on second down (OK, I can live with that, more positive vibes coming), then stopped again at the line of scrimmage on third down (uh-oh), and then, amazingly stopped again at the line of scrimmage on fourth down (negative energy overflow causes stomach to churn violently). Browns win. This spot was batting .000, a sign that you're supposed to try another. The Jets options rested in Miami. My options rested 18 inches from the TV, as I was feeling both sportingly ill and humanly sick.

(switch to New England-Miami telecast)

The good news was that the Patriots drive was a successful one. Tom Brady threw a touchdown pass to Troy Brown, the two-point conversion was successful, so the Patriots trailed by only three points with 2:46 to play.

I'd like to think at this point that the power of my spot, combined with those of other Jets fans, sitting in their apartment, took over at this point, because the Dolphins went into all-time brainlock mode. First they misjudged New England's intentions on the kickoff, and Travis Minor watched a deep kick die down shy of the end zone. Travis Minor fielded it and got pummeled on his own four-yard line. Then, Dave Wannstedt decided that rather than hand the ball to Williams, who could have all but ended the game with a nice run or two, that the Dolphins would throw the ball. Two incompletions and a short quarterback run later, Miami was forced to punt and their subsequent kick was horrendous. New England got the ball back at the Dolphins 34. They barely had to move to get in field goal range and Adam Vinatieri was clutch, hitting from 43 yards out to tie the game with 1:09 left. The Dolphins conceded on their next possession, setting up overtime, which began right around the same time the Jets and Packers kicked off from the Meadowlands.

At this point, I'm ignoring every IM chime and focusing completely on the coin toss, fully believing in the value of "The Spot." If ever a game was won by a coin toss, it was this one. As soon as the coin landed, Tom Brady pumped his fist, and it was as if the Dolphins captains had just had their "deflate" button pushed. The Patriots got great field position when Miami's kickoff went out of bounds, and took advantage. A 20-yard pass from Brady to Kevin Faulk set up Vinatieri. This time his kic was true from 35 yards away and the Patriots had a miraculous walk-off victory. "The Spot" had worked its magic and now could safely be vacated, both as part of the ritual and for the good of my health.

(switch immediately to Jets telecast)

I have three really significant recollections of the Jets-Packers game that afternoon

1- The first words from FOX announcer Dick Stockton over a montage of pictures of Woody Johnson and other fans celebrating New England's win: "And now the Jets have everything to play for..."

2- The Jets could do no wrong in this game. Sometimes you just know that your team is going to win, kind of like how you know when you've picked out the best place for "The Spot." I've spoken to a lot of Mets fans who knew that the Mets were going to win Game 7 of the World Series. Once the Patriots beat the Dolphins, it was like a giant whoosh had come along and sprinkled victory dust along the members of Gang Green. Pennington threw for four touchdowns, two to Chrebet. Curtis Martin and LaMont Jordan each ran for a score. The defense played a near-perfect game, holding Brett Favre in check, other than one moment at the end of the first half in which a laser-like pass went for a touchdown.

3- At some point in the first quarter, I heaved, and gakked the chicken parm and Gatorade into a toilet bowl (sorry to gross you out, but I try to do so tastefully, and as part of the story). It was pretty awful. I've had two bad cases of food poisoning, one about seven or eight years ago, after eating some appetizers that had been sitting out on a tray at work for several hours, and this instance, which coincided with a case of pigskin hysteria. I watched most of this game between coughs, sniffles and gags, though I do recall making a trip to Wendy's for a baked potato (kids, don't try this at home). I did my best to disguise my woes. In fact, I don't think my parents ever became aware of it (until reading this entry).

The good news was that my suffering was not long-term and that since, I haven't had any such recurrences (I have limited my chicken parm and Gatorade intake). By Monday, I was fine and dandy, as were the Jets, who had a home playoff date with the Colts and the AFC East division title.

True Metchuck's know...Jerry Seinfeld's vomit streak is referenced in two episodes of his tv show- "The Masseuse" and "The Dinner Party." Seinfeld had one streak of eight years and another of more than 13. He notes that he threw up on June 29, 1972 and June 29, 1980 (exactly eight years apart, both on dates of Mets losses), and then after eating a stale black and white cookie in "The Dinner Party" (air date February 3, 1994) his streak comes to an inglorious end

The Hanging Chads

So if we were having a vote as to which New York sports team has tortured its fans more over the years, could our butterfly ballot contain the pictures of Chad Bradford, representing the Mets, and Chad Pennington, representing the Jets?

Bradford brings his funky, submarine style delivery to Shea Stadium this season and it's entirely possible that with the significant damage to his rotator cuff from the last two seasons that Pennington's best shot at throwing a football again might be to use that same motion.

Anyway, the Bradford/Pennington references allow me to segue, ever so slightly to a football story, since it is the last week of the NFL's regular season, one that has been a total waste right from the start if you're a follower of the J-E-T-S.

Let me say that of the four majors, football fluctuates between my third and fourth favorite sport, which probably has more to do with my distaste for violence over anything else. I never get pumped up for Monday Night Football, unless the Jets are playing and the game has significance to the playoff chase. I watch the game, understand it, and have covered it, but I'm not anywhere near as obsessed as the majority of the populace.

That said, I have a history with the Jets. I remember A.J. Duhe returning two Richard Todd interceptions for touchdowns in an AFC title game, a year after a near miracle playoff rally against the Bills was snuffed out by an end zone interception. I still see them gagging away a 10-point lead to the Cleveland Browns in another playoff debacle, as I stewed at a baseball card show in upstate New York, and hear the words I mumbled while sporting a 10-point cushion against the Broncos in the AFC title game ("Boy, it's really gonna suck if they blow this..."). I recall John Hall kicking the ball sideways to cost them a key late-season game against the Lions, a week before I drove with a friend to Baltimore to see them fall to the Ravens. And I can picture the thrill of glorious victory against San Diego and the agony of disastrous defeat in Pittsburgh from last season all too well. I won't even mention the fake-spike game because there's only so much you can take of this stuff.

But this blog isn't for the purpose of reliving the bad times, rather it's for the purpose of recalling the good ones. And since that's so, let me indulge you over Thursday and Friday with a couple of walk-off tales from Jets yesteryear.

I wish to harken back to 1991, a bizarre season in which most of the details escape me, save for a crazy clash with the Bears on Monday Night Football, a loss that left the Jets sputtering at 1-3, followed by an unlikely hot streak in which the team won six of eight. Just when things looked good, they went bad. The Jets not only lost three straight games to slip to 7-8, but lost their kicker, rock-solid Pat Leahy, to injury. Yet after all the topsy-turviness, they still would up in a one-game showdown with the 8-7 Dolphins on the final Sunday, after which the winner would claim a wild-card spot and the loser would be done for the season.

This one's more fun if you skip the first 59 minutes or so of action and zip ahead to the end of regulation (something I've often wished of NFL games). The Jets led 17-13, but Dan Marino drove the Dolphins from their own 30-yard line to within a yard of the end zone. I don't remember who broadcast the game with Dick Enberg, but I'm pretty sure they insisted the Dolphins would run the ball on fourth down. Jets defensive coordinator Pete Carroll (ha!) thought so, which explains why Ferrell Edmunds was wide open in the end zone, the recipient of Dan Marino's go-ahead throw with 44 seconds left.

In radioland, play-by-play man Marty Glickman was telling his listeners that the Jets season was doomed, and based on the Jets reputation, that was a perfectly reasonable comment.

Quarterback Ken O'Brien had 38 seconds to get the Jets into field goal range, starting from his own 30-yard line. O'Brien, best described as the Jets equivalent to Steve Trachsel (slow and average), did something he usually didn't do. He put some zip on the ball and hit Rob Moore on the first play for a 23-yard gain. One more completion and a Freeman McNeil run later, Raul Allegre trotted onto the field for a 44-yard field goal attempt. I remember my friend Dan Gordon and I teasing a Dolphins fan named Manny (not Malhotra or Aybar) in my high school journalism class with some phantom play-by-play calls, including one of Allegre coming through with the big kick and sure enough, fantasy became reality, as Allegre drilled one right down the middle, tying the game as time ran out in regulation.

In overtime, Marino morphed into the Ken O'Brien we knew and loved, and Miami's first and only drive got snuffed out after he went 1-for-4 throwing the ball. On New York's drive, O'Brien completed only one pass in OT, but it was a biggie, a 29-yard toss to Moore. The Jets had their Shawon Dunston in running back Johnny Hector, who had a couple of big runs prior to that throw (actually, a better comp for Hector, who rushed for 132 yards that day in place of Blair Thomas, might be Lenny Harris). Eventually the Jets got the football in position for a 30-yard kick from Allegre and he came through with a split-the-uprights, walk-off boot that probably would have been good from 45 (thankfully not necessary). I don't know what Glickman had to say after this one, but I did hear the Dolphins radio call of the game-winning kick and the best way to describe it would be "funeralesque."

I know that people are going to scoff at this, but since I slept through the end of the 51-45 Jets win over Miami in 1986 and through the end of their bizarre comeback against the Dolphins a few seasons ago, this game would rank as one of my all-time favorite Jet memories. In the Court of this blogger's opinion, it reigns Supreme.

True MetJets know...The hour is late so I don't have the time to fully investigate the last time the Mets and Jets had walk-off wins on the same date (anyone who wants to check before I do can post the answer in the comments section). So, for now I'll leave you in the Wayne-ing moments for the career of Jets receiver Wayne Chrebet by mentioning that the only Mets "Wayne" to hit a walk-off home run is Wayne Garrett, who had two.

another football-related post will run on Friday