The diner resembled so many others peppering New Jersey. Garrett Wilson held high expectations as he climbed from an idling S.U.V. This was Sopranos country, after all, where bottomless menus and bustling service await every eager lunchtime patron.
“You know it’s good if cops eat here,” Wilson said, motioning to a police vehicle stationed outside the Hackensack restaurant. Wilson walked inside, where he was quickly greeted by a lengthy sit-down counter, checkered floors and the sound and scent of sizzling meat.
In last year’s whirlwind of a rookie season, Wilson established himself as a rarity — a young, dynamic Jets wide receiver who possesses the type of sticky hands unseen since the days of Keyshawn Johnson.