I'm gonna miss you Fireman Ed, like I miss political ads; like I miss food poisoning; like I miss the dating scene; like I miss the awkward pauses of adolescence.
Say it ain’t so, Fireman Ed. Say you’re not hanging it up because of the abuse you have taken from your fellow Jets fans.
I thought one of the superpowers of super fans would be thicker skin.
You shouldn’t be offended by the “you’re on the Jets payroll” jeers because you showed your support for incumbent starting quarterback Mark Sanchez by wearing his jersey, you should be flattered.
A grown man riding on another grown man’s shoulders chanting, “J-E-T-S, Jets, Jets, Jets!” would be a perfect complement to that three-ring circus of a front office in Florham Park.
I’m gonna miss you Fireman Ed, like John Elway misses Tim Tebow; like Jeff Fisher misses Bud Adams; like Wade Phillips misses press conferences; like Les Miles misses sanity.
Are we to believe the league doesn’t offer conflict resolution courses for super fans, Fireman Ed? In the emotional retirement statement penned for Metro New York you wrote,
"Although I can 'hold my own,' I do not want to lose my temper and make a stupid mistake. I have a responsibility to the families and kids that enjoy the game and Fireman Ed."
Wow. Going third person is indicative of either arrogance, dementia or personal demons. In your case I’m going to go ahead and check D: all of the above.
The Jets have the highest average, non-premium ticket price in the league at $117.94, according to Team Marketing Report's Fan Cost Index — the defending Super Bowl Champion New York Giants, who share MetLife Stadium with the Jets, come in third at $111.69. How is that even possible?! You should be ashamed, Woody Johnson.
I think I can safely speak for every Jets ticket holder horrified to discover their top-dollar purchase came with the poster child for Peter Pan syndrome blocking their view of the field: Sit down! Shut up! And good riddance!