You can’t handle the truth! Son, we live in a world that has games. And those games have to be coached by men with guts. Who’s gonna coach those games? You? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Carroll and you curse the NY Jets. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Carroll’s trip, while tragic, almost helped us win the game. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, almost wins games. You don’t want the truth, because deep down in places you don’t talk about parties, you want me on that sideline, you need me on that sideline. We use words like sideline, blocking, players…we use these words as the backbone of a life spent cheating. You use them as a punchline.

I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and cheers the very games I lose, then questions the manner in which I lose them. I’d prefer you just said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a headset and coach a game. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you’re entitled to.  Rex Ryan