Keidel: Older, Wiser And Less Of A Wildcard, Sanchez Should Shine In Philly
By Jason Keidel
» More Columns
Now that the ephemeral euphoria of Sunday's game -- where you beat my beloved black & gold -- has worn off and the more sane segment of Jets Nation has returned to Earth, it has to be hard to not have at least one eye about 100 miles down the New Jersey Turnpike.
It's fitting that Philadelphia, where our beloved nation was born, may represent the rebirth of a once-burgeoning career.
Mark Sanchez, yes that Mark Sanchez, the franchise, The Sanchise, the formerly adored cover boy quarterback of New York City, is on the comeback trail. And suffice it to say he's got a lot more going for him this time than he did in New York, where he was gutted by a coach with a prehistoric sense of offense. We all recall the explosion of playoff runs -- four road victories in January during his first two seasons, unprecedented in team history.
While Eli Manning was winning Super Bowls with his charming, understated mien, the world was way more fascinated with Sanchez, whose GQ cheekbones and "Girls Gone Wild" videos had an epic grip on our attention. Even his head coach bought in, with Rex Ryan and/or his wife having some mutation of Mark literally tattooed on their flesh. Throw in a few cold-weather wins and you have a most intoxicating cocktail.
Forget his frat-boy tangents for a moment. Sanchez was, at one point, a very successful quarterback for more than a few games. You can decide whether that was because he was flanked by a Pro-Bowl offensive line and highly skilled skill players and a bruising rushing attack; or because, before he lost his mojo, he was a winning player, from high school through USC through his freshman and sophomore seasons in the NFL.
We've long debated the reasons for his rise and fall from relevance. No doubt Sanchez has a reputation for loafing away from the gridiron. He was never the first player to stroll in the building, or the one who flicked off the lights at midnight.
And there are stories that he was lectured this year by a prominent athlete before this season, told to flip his cap forward, drop a few pounds, shave, and look like a leader. Stop with the Phi Beta B.S. Time to act like an adult.
But if Michael Vick got a second chance, why not Sanchez? Ray Rice will probably play again, as will Adrian Peterson. There's a conga line of luminaries who got the celebrity second chance because of their ability to run, pass, or catch a football. Besides, Sanchez's problems were never matters of legal but rather of logic.
And for all his foibles, there was a resonant charm to Sanchez, who was a tad too immature, and must have bowled into a wall of culture shock when he got here. The surfer dude from SoCal who hoarded all the magazine covers and coeds while essentially on autopilot must have had to adjust his eyes to the cold, concrete realities of Manhattan. He figured he could bask in Broadway's glow without burning in its glare.
Now he's got Meadowlands-Lite. Philadelphia is the perfect place for a second chance. He's been house-trained, has just enough success to be confident and enough failure to avoid arrogant. Not to mention they have exponentially more talent in the huddle and a head coach who's a borderline savant on the blackboard.
If Nick Foles is good for 27 TDs and 2 INTs last season, then Sanchez must be drooling over the prospect of this seven-game preamble to a playoff run. And his team already knows he can win when it counts (January) and where it counts (on the road).
Maybe now that he's wearing the wrong shade of green you can't pump a fist in his favor. Maybe you're so tethered to the laundry that you care way more about the athlete than the man. In an odd or abstract sense, New York and Philly simply swapped quarterbacks. One man is morally superior, the other athletically superior. It's an interesting contrast and case study in karma. Vick and Sanchez, you could say, are getting what they deserve.
But while Sanchez is no longer a Jet, he does carry some symbolism. He represents the last time Gang Green wasn't gangrenous, a time when you thought the good times were eternal. That's worth at least one foam finger, even if you use the middle finger.
Follow Jason on Twitter at @JasonKeidel
You May Also Be Interested In These Stories
