J-E-T-S! Jets!! Jets!!! Oooohhhhh...

What a wild swing of emotions in East Rutherford yesterday.

There was a brilliant onside kick and a stunning kickoff return that went 103 yards for a TD. A bad penalty call that led to the world's tallest accountant screaming "I hope you die" to a member of the officiating crew. A game-ending lateral-fest that evoked memories of the Stanford-Cal game.

We laughed, we cried.

It was certainly the best Jets game I've seen in the stadium. When Justin Miller ran the kickoff back late in the game, it was near pandemonium in the stands. It was a fantastic feeling, and one most Jet fans probably doubted they'd experience this season. Of course, the realization that the return, exciting as it was, gave Peyton Manning way too much time to mount a game-winning drive, which he did, hit us immediately. But for a few moments, the possibility of victory existed. Good times.

Gang Green is proving unpredictable and dangerous, even though they didn't win. This is not an overly talented Jets team, but they had a chance to beat one of the better teams in the league until the last second. Mangini is going to be questioned, and deservedly so, for not kicking the field goal in the third quarter with the score tied 14-14. But he's getting a lot out of the players, and he's taking risks that Jets fans never saw during the days of Herm. It's a welcome change, and I think people can see the bright spots in the loss.

Although the Jets lost, I was a winner on the day, as I have already abandoned my pre-season decision to always pick against the Jets, Browns and Packers in 2006. After my two-win performance a week ago, I decided I needed to make some changes, so this week, I picked all three to win. The Jets, who were getting 9.5 points, easily covered. The Browns tried their hardest to lose to the hapless Raiders but managed to come back and win by three, thus covering the spread by a half-point. It's probably asking too much for the Packers to complete the trifecta tonight, but I couldn't go against Favre on Monday night, getting 11.5 points. I know. I got greedy.

In Section 331 social news, there were no run-ins with our new friend Allen. The Professor, sensitive to being called a negative fan during the home opener, went completely the other way Sunday. Whenever the Jets screwed up, he yelled, "Come on guys, try harder." Very funny stuff. I'm sure Allen knows he's being patronized, but at least he's smart enough not to say anything about it.

But I did notice something yesterday. Allen was on our case because we're always hollering at the field - at the players and the coaches. He doesn't do that. Instead, I realized that he yells at his wife. Granted, she deserves a little crap because she was wearing a pink Jets hat. Unless I've missed a press release, there is no pink in the Jets' color scheme. But that doesn't warrant having your husband bitch and moan at you every time something goes wrong. Yell at the field, not at your wife. It's not her fault Manning ran a flawless two-minute drill.

So with Allen leaving us alone, we needed to count on others to provide yesterday's shenanigans. Fortunately, they delivered. Three notable goings-on:

1. After the questionable interference call during the Colts' drive that temporarily gave them the lead, I thought the red-headed Irish dude who sits a few rows behind us would rupture a major artery as he screamed the equivalent of "you fornicating kitty cat" at the official with enough venom and hatred to turn his face purple.

2. For the second week in a row, Meadowlands staffers had to stop by our section. Instead of security, however, this time it was medical personnel, who had to visit after a woman fell headfirst over a row of seats.

Seats 1, Wrist of Woman who Fell Over Seats 0

3. But the highlight (lowlight?) came from the huge guy who sits directly behind me. Apparently, he was on a mission during his tailgating hours. Perhaps a contest of sorts involving him and a gent named Jack Daniels.

Jack Daniels 1, Big Dude Sitting Directly Behind Me 0

Sometime in the third quarter, I mentioned to the Professor that the dude wasn't looking so good, and I expressed fear that I was in his line of fire should he start vomiting. The Professor assured me, "he looks like that all the time, and never pukes. It'll be fine. He never pukes."

Ten minutes later, he was puking. Quite chivalrously, the Professor switched seats with me. The big dude resumed vomiting as the game reached its exciting conclusion, and by the time he left, he was a mess the likes of which I haven't seen in years.

So I imagine that somewhere today, he has a very large headache, but most likely no memory of what happened yesterday. Fortunately, there's a group of people sitting in front of him who'll be more than happy to remind him in two weeks.

We're helpful like that.