Have the rollicking Jets finally supplanted the crosstown Giants as New
York's top NFL franchise? If you believe the editors of Women's
and scores of Park Slope hipsters
the answer is yes. For those unfamiliar with the sociological dynamics
of the New York sports scene, Wall Street Journal sports columnist Jason
puts the Jets' newfound coolness (and the Giants' lack thereof)
[Giants head coach] Tom Coughlin takes his
inspiration from General Patton, [Jets head coach] Ryan emulates Bill
Murray in "Meatballs." Mr. Ryan jokes like a player, swaggers like a
player, and when his players stumble, he protects them like a mama bear.
Much to the discipline-loving establishment's chagrin, it's working.
Giants are like a summer internship at your dad's friend's law office.
The Jets are a lifeguard chair on the Jersey Shore. The Giants are the
New York Yacht Club. The Jets are the Mars Bar.
The Giants are
"Tiger Mother." The Jets are a 16-year-old babysitter who doesn't mind
if you smoke and play "Call of Duty" all night.
In conclusion, don't ask the Giants to pledge your fraternity and don't
ask the Jets to water your plants when you're away for the weekend.
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