Back in 2011, on a late January night that dipped well below freezing in Pittsburgh, there was no respite from the roving packs of Jets fans strewn throughout every bar in the city.
Tucked inside tumbling walls of Miller Lite cans, they were easily identifiable from the drunken rally cry, which almost certainly tortured every bartender simply trying to survive a shift: Here we go, here we go, here we go here we go, THE JETS ARE GOIN’ TO THE SUUUUUPER BOWL. The team had already edged Peyton Manning in Indianapolis and gut-punched Tom Brady in Foxborough.