Picture this. It is the hour before kickoff, Week 18.

The Patriots have been bad. Incredibly bad. We are 2-14, going into the last game of the season. If we lose, we are guaranteed the #1 Pick, with Carolina winning over us by a dint of common opponents.

The Jets, who we are about to play, have somehow turned their season completely around behind an electric defense and running the ball over 45 times per game. They’ve won five straight, and sit now at 9-7. If they win, they are in the playoffs.

Now is the choice we face. Lose, and guarantee the 1st Round Pick, but then have to watch in agony as the Jets vault into the playoffs on the back of a road win over the Patriots in Gillette, breaking the 15 game winning streak in place and losing the one card we still had left to play.

Or win, Fuck the Jets, but then slip to the #2 Pick in the draft and be forced to either pick Maye, pick Harrison, or trade down into uncertainty.

I don’t begrudge anyone their choices in this matter, but speaking solely for myself, I have one and only one rule I follow, now and always.

Fuck.

The.

Jets.