The end was a study in melancholy, of what might have been, of what never seems to be for the Jets. Normally, for instance, shutting up a partisan crowd is as viscerally pleasing as the sport allows: stuff those yellow towels in your pockets, folks, shut your mouths, take your hoarse, scratchy voices back to the parking lot …
… of course, normally, shutting up a crowd like that happens many miles from home, in a strange city, in an unfamiliar stadium, not in your own house. We’ll be generous and say that only half the announced crowd of 78,523 was wearing the black-and-gold vestments of the Steelers.