Commemoratives

This is what fans of other teams with bigger stars go through. No sooner did the second week of preseason come to a close than offers for expensive merchandise came knocking at our door. Yesterday my wife received an offer from the Danbury Mint - a lesser version of the Franklin Mint, I would gather - to purchase a commemorative plaque depicting Brett Favre in his debut for the New York Jets. We see a picture of Favre throwing one of his six passing attempts in his first Jets game, the preseason match against Washington. "Two 24kt gold-plated medallions and a replica ticket to the Jets' 2008 home opener" accompany the photograph. One medallion depicts Favre without eyeballs, making him look a little like he's been commemorated upon his death. No word on whether these medallions can be traded for food or whether they possess any particular healing qualities.

Also not available for bartering is a "replica ticket" that depicts a decidedly grumpy, almost disconsolate Eric Mangini. He looks as if he has been asked to look at the camera for a picture specifically to be used on a replica ticket.

Total for this commemoration is $129, plus $10 shipping and handling, payable in three easy installments of $46.30. My satisfaction is as completely guaranteed as Super Bowl III, but I will pass.

I can't be too critical of a bad purchase when I have personally contemplated the purchase of plenty of Jets crap. But when I buy crap, it is done so to commemorate things that are only important to great moments in The Martin Roche Experience. This is the essence of the fan's life. If the game did not actually have an impact on our daily lives, then we wouldn't spend our time so morbidly fascinated by it all year. For example, the 1975 Welch's jelly glasses I bought on Ebay commemorate all of the orange juice and milk (orange juice in the NFC glass, milk in the AFC glass) I consumed while staring at the conference helmets, twirling them round and round and round, memorizing every nuance, finding coherence in the disordered universe of a neurotic childhood. Gently hand wash, please.




And I don't even know what the New York Jets light switch cover commemorates, other than a wish I did not even know existed.