On Tanks and Toxicity: How a Hopeless Jets Season Helped Me through Heartbreak
If you want an answer to one of life’s enduring questions, look no further than young-adult cult classic The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
A high schooler, traumatized from childhood abuse and seeing the people he loves fall into the arms of those who hurt them, asks his teacher why people always choose relationships that are bad for them. Why do we always get in our own way?
The answer: We accept the love we think we deserve.
More than anyone else, no one is more familiar with choosing to love what is bad for you than New York Jets fans.
This team has been in the dumps for at least a generation. It’s finished with a winning record once in the last 10 years. It is synonymous with ineptitude and dysfunction. It is heartbreak and hopelessness, ad infinitum.
But even this season somehow managed to be something else entirely.
After going winless for 13 games, fans — and probably the front office itself — had already considered this season lost and probably thought it best to continue tanking to get the No. 1 overall pick in next year’s draft. In fact, many thought tanking was the plan all along. For a team as historically and presently bad as the Jets, it was the only thing they had going for them, the only light at the end of a really long, dark tunnel.
And then — the unthinkable. They won. Twice. In a row. Against winning teams that were deep in playoff contention.
The No. 1 pick slipped out of their hands. They couldn’t even lose properly, and losing was what they did best.
And as for the fans, who actually bemoaned the fact that their team racked up victories? That’s right — more uncertainty and heartbreak.
Now, I must make a confession. I’m not a Jets fan, not even close.
But I do know a thing or two about having your heart broken.
Before 2020 humbled us all, I believed I deserved the world.
My life was on the upswing. I was working towards a career in sports. By the end of 2019, I had just finished organizing a major sports event and was making big plans for my next steps.
And I was head over feet in love.
We met serendipitously one night. Then we couldn’t stop talking. Then we got serious. So much so that after a few weeks, we were planning a future together.
He wasn’t interested in sports at all, but it was my love of sports that made me believe I was perfect for him. He was my franchise quarterback, my ace, my starter, my number one. He could have very low moments, when it was frustrating — infuriating, even — to stay by his side. Other people might have given up on him, but not me. And the moments of joy that came from being with him, like that overtime victory or perfect game, were worth everything. He made me happier than little else could.
And isn’t that what it feels like when you first become a fan of a team? Or when you finally win a championship? You’re wide-eyed and excited, full of hope for what’s to come.
So what happens when what does come is heartbreak? What happens when you realize that who you love no longer makes you happy? Worse, what do you do when that relationship starts to become bad for you?
One person probably knows more than most about the pain and suffering that comes with being associated with the New York Jets: starting quarterback Sam Darnold.
The story of Sam Darnold is as curious and messy as you’d expect from a Jets quarterback. Drafted at No. 3 in 2018, he was meant to be their leader and shining star for the foreseeable future — in an organization historically known for being a QB graveyard. He was promising and talented, though certainly not without areas (footwork, decision-making, and game reading, to name some) that needed polishing.
Since then, he has been dealt with some unfavorable cards. He was sidelined for weeks last year due to mononucleosis. The general manager who drafted him was fired. Some of his best weapons demanded trades away from the team. The head coach he’s spent the most time with is Adam Gase (more on that shortly).
Needless to say, Darnold never stood a chance to truly succeed with the New York Jets in the NFL.
Which brings us to this season.
Sam Darnold was bad this year.
He’s regressed. He’s thrown more interceptions than touchdowns. He finished close to the bottom — if not dead last — in every statistical category that matters. He was barely able to do what he could, and let’s not even talk about what he always couldn’t. You barely saw that spark — that energy and excitement that he used to carry every game day.
While he is not entirely blameless for this, I’m among those who believe that much of the responsibility lies at the feet of the Jets organization and coaching staff — Gase, in particular.
Gase was hired as an “offensive-minded” coach and a “quarterback guru”. He was entrusted with developing Darnold into an elite quarterback. Instead, he has nothing to show for except Darnold’s regression. Under his watch, Darnold has truly become the face of the Jets — its problems, its chaos, its dysfunction, even when the list of things to fix goes far beyond him.
Put yourself in Darnold’s shoes this season. You’re losing. Your fans want you to continue losing. But you hope each week that a miracle happens and you don’t have to suffer with the ignominy of a 0–16 season on your resume. You’re playing for your job and your future.
Sam Darnold has been called many things this year: a “broken” quarterback, a waste, a shadow of himself, another Jet QB down the drain. The Jets have been a punch line and a laughing stock, and there’s nothing new there.
But my eyes see something far deeper and worse.
The Jets hasn’t just been a chaotic and dysfunctional environment for Darnold — but a downright toxic and abusive one.
Toxicity and abuse are serious words, which also makes them quite taboo. Inherently, they sow discomfort, and when you are uncomfortable about something, you ignore it. You pretend it doesn’t exist. You blind yourself and refuse to see the warning signs.
I didn’t see the warning signs in my relationship.
It started with the little things: the way he was always reluctant to talk about his past, the way he would give underhanded compliments, the way he could be simultaneously capable of plotting both grand romantic gestures and elaborate revenge schemes, the way he had no ability to forgive.
Yet I always tried to see the best in him no matter what.
I defended him to my friends and family when they pointed out a growing list of red flags. I sacrificed time and effort in an attempt to put him first, sometimes at my own expense. I spent hours begging and trying to fix things when I wronged him, even though he never did (and never could) do the same for me.
And I did all of this even as he continued to tell me that I wasn’t enough. Even as he twisted my words and actions to make himself look like the victim. Even as I offered patience and help, and I would still be painted like the bad guy. All the while, he would escape being held accountable for his own mistakes.
I was unhappy. I was angry and frustrated. But I always tried to pretend otherwise.
I stayed with him.
Because deep down, I believed him. I was the problem. I was a liability. I needed to fix myself, because I wasn’t worth it.
If this season was any indication, it’s clear that the Jets organization doesn’t have much love for Sam Darnold.
After all, at no point in their 13-game-long winless streak did they even entertain the idea of firing the head coach. Both the offense and defense have grown more disorganized and undisciplined this year. It was clear the system wasn’t working for Darnold — or any of the players, for that matter — and yet nothing was done. Even if they might not have been tanking on purpose, the simple fact that many believe otherwise shows how little was done to help make Darnold and the team successful.
There’s no doubt that Sam Darnold lacks a number of things. But it’s more than clear that he is not lacking in heart and love for the Jets.
You see it on the field. He still tried to make things happen, even when they resulted in disaster. He still went out there every week and gave everything he has.
And in public — in the face of pressure, chaos, and uncertainty — he still had nothing but good things to say about the coaching staff and the organization. He took responsibility after every loss. He always blamed himself for not playing better and getting the win. He reaffirms his loyalty and says that there is no other team he’d rather play for.
Aren’t those the warning signs for toxicity and abuse?
You keep going like everything’s fine even when it’s clear something’s not working. You continue to praise and defend those who hold you back. You go to bat for them when they wouldn’t leave the dugout for you.
And no matter what happens, you still can’t bring yourself to imagine a better relationship.
People call it a “lightbulb moment”. You spend so long stumbling in the dark — and in an instant everything becomes clear. You finally see the signs. You know what you have to do. You know your path forward.
For me, that moment came — as many similar moments today do — via a post on social media.
We had been arguing back and forth for a while. One day, I viewed something he shared on Instagram. It was a snippet of one of our private conversations — of course, cherry-picked and taken out of context to reframe him as the victim.
He did the same thing twice more before I finally had enough.
Seeing those posts for the first time, I felt the world around me fade into a blur. All of our past conversations replayed in my mind. Everything finally came together.
And just like that, I saw clearly.
I saw that nothing was ever going to change between us. No matter what I did, I would always be wrong, even when I wasn’t. I was wasting my time trying to fix something that was never built to last. I knew that I didn’t have to stand for what he was doing and accept the way he treated me any longer.
I deserved better.
So I made my choice. I said goodbye and cut him out of my life. And for the first time since we got together, I knew without a doubt that I was doing the right thing.
I believed in myself again.
Sam Darnold deserves better.
And thankfully, he still believes in himself.
He’s still young (he remains among the youngest quarterbacks in the league) and has had good moments this year. And mercifully, if history is to be taken as a precedent (see: former Gase bust-turned-stud Ryan Tannehill), there are various things to suggest that he will find more success in time, with a new head coach, or with an entirely new organization altogether.
The Jets finished 2–14 this weekend, their worst finish in nearly 25 years. They have the No. 2 overall pick, and an eventful offseason on their hands.
Contrary to what most people think, the Jets do have good building blocks for the future. While there are multiple other areas that need fixing, they don’t need to tear everything down and start from scratch. But as to what they will actually choose to do — that’s a different story.
Regardless, a new year means a new start for everyone.
For the Jets, who have been starting over every year for what seems like forever, and who have another chance to finally do something right and make good decisions.
For the quarterback they chose not long ago, who still has the hope and belief in himself that he can succeed in one of the toughest leagues in the world.
And for me, who needed to see a professional sports team fail spectacularly in order to reckon with her own failure of a toxic relationship.
May we choose what is right for us.
May we finally stop being our own worst enemy.
May we find and accept the love we truly deserve.
