My J-E-T-S D-I-V-O-R-C-E is final today

There’s never an easy way to say this, so let me just say it. I want a divorce.

Things just aren’t what they used to be. The fun isn’t there. The passion and the spark are gone. And, to be frank, I no longer feel the attraction.

I hope you’re feelings aren’t hurt when I say this, but what I really want is to see other teams.

It’s not you; it’s me. Well, actually, a lot of it is you, New York Jets.

When I came into this relationship, I had high expectations. But now, your actions dictate to me that you no longer care. You practically gave away one of the best head coaches in the history of your organization. Just let him walk right out the door with little in return. You brought in nothing to help the team.

A fourth-round draft pick? For Herm? Please.

I have to say, I’m feeling a little jilted. You say you’re committed, but I don’t think I can believe you anymore.

Let’s got back to this caring thing – as in you don’t care about me or any other long-suffering Jets’ fan. You tell us you are the New York Jets, leading those not in the know to think you actually play your games in the world’s greatest city. That lie should have given us a clue into your deception early on, but we got hooked anyway. (Who knows why? It’s not like you’re the best looking babe at the bar, so to speak. But maybe, at the time we met, you were the drunkest.)

Then you get everyone’s hopes up about coming home. You say you’re going to build a stadium back in the City. When the Manhattan project fell through, you then mentioned something about taking up residence in Queens. We found out quickly that was another lie, just leverage to get what you really wanted: To shack up with the Giants in a new crib in Jersey.

That’s ok. I understand. Being with the Giants gives you a strong shoulder to lean on.

Fine.

I shouldn’t just pick on the Jets. I’m tired of all my team relationships.

As I said before, it’s not the teams, really. It’s mostly me.

I want to be happy again. I want to watch sports for the pure enjoyment. I no longer want to sit on the couch and watch a 3-11 team playing a third-string quarterback who last year was shoveling horse poop out of barn in Lexington, Ky.

I don’t won’t to feel tied down any more. I want the freedom to switch the channel and watch other teams. I want to wear a Cheesehead one week and waive a Terrible Towel the next. The word commitment has been blacked out of my dictionary.

And when I say I want to see other teams, I’m not just talking about football. Have you seen my Knicks lately? As I write this, the Knicks had won three consecutive games. But I know it won’t last. It’s just a tease. It’s like your girlfriend buying that sexy lingerie from page 23 in the Victoria’s Secret catalog, trying it on one night, and then you can’t get her nose out of the latest novel from Oprah’s book club.

And I know my Rangers are doing well, but where have they been the past eight years? Not in the playoffs, that’s for damn sure. Now, even though they’re promising to bring more to our relationship, it’s just too late. Plus, I’ve really become infatuated with the Bruins – this week. Next week, it may be the Oilers or even the Capitals.

Later this week, Mark Messier’s No. 11 will be retired to the rafters at Madison Square Garden. I really have been looking forward to that, so I hope, Rangers, we still can be friends and make a date for that night.

So teams, here they are, the divorce papers. Just sign them, and I’ll be gone. Here are your T-shirts back, and your caps. Feel free to call any time. Good luck to you. I hope you do well.

Now if you don’t mind, the Bears are on the TV and you don’t make a good window.