(
)
We should have known, of course.
We, more than any civilization on earth, more than any city ever assembled, should have believed. If you are reading this this morning before 6:11 a.m., New York time, well … WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? THE WORLD IS ENDING AND YOU’RE TROLLING FOR MORE GOOFY JETS NEWS? DID YOU SEE NIKI GHAZIAN ON THE FRONT PAGE YESTERDAY?
If it’s after 6:11, that can mean only one of two things:
1) There is some spectacular Internet service awaiting us wherever the global apocalypse predicted by the Mayans has sent us.
2) The world didn’t really end.
Although, quite honestly, the more you think about it, the more we, as much as anyone, should have seen it all coming. After all, according to the strict reading of the Mayan calendar, the moment of time that we call 6:11 a.m. on the morning of December 21, 2012, reads thusly according to the Mayan long-count calendar, based on the 20 katun cycles of b’ak’tun, equal to 144,000 days or, more precisely, 394.26 years (hey, it’s all there on Wikipedia if you don’t believe me):
13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.13.0.0.0.0
Which can mean one thing and one thing only:
We can even blame the Apocalypse on Alex Rodriguez.
Personally, as an eternal optimist, I am hopeful the Mayans were off by a millennia or two, because this wouldn’t have been an ideal time to walk away from so much unfinished business. We have so much more to see, so much more to glorify, so much more to suffer through.
Our final image of Tim Tebow should be something a little less inglorious than discovering he actually sits behind Al Woodall on the Jets’ quarterback depth chart. Although if this really is the end, you have to hand it to the Jets: Not even Lady Xoc, the wisest and most powerful of Mayan queens, could ever have drawn up something as exquisite as the buttfumble to serve as a most memorable final act.
Knicks fans have suffered enough; do they really need to add eternity on top of the last 40 years to see if their basketball team has the goods to win another NBA title? In what paradigm is that considered even remotely fair? And this isn’t just New York’s problem; as much as we may have reconciled with the notion the Heat won the championship last season, were they really good enough to be considered eternity’s champion?
(Although, come to think of it, it would put a small crimp in
LeBron James’ vow of “ … not two … not three … not four … not five …” Hmmm. Your choices are the world ending this morning or the Heat winning eight straight titles. Take your time with your answer. Just not, you know, too much time.)
Actually, this really is starting to make sense, because it finally sheds some light on why the Yankees, who cleared $189 million in profit from the time you started reading this sentence, insist they will keep their payroll under $189 million for a 2014 season that might only exist if somebody is able to smuggle a copy of Strat-O-Matic to the Other Side.
And the Mets look even wiser.
And — I’m starting to frighten myself a little bit now — Gary Bettman suddenly appears to be smarter than Marilyn vos Savant. Although, even if the Mayans were right, I suspect there will be enough Rangers fans at the very end to leave behind an eternal vapor trail where, millions of years from now, the next civilization will be forced to decipher what “Potvin sucks” really means ….
What’s that you say? It’s 8:30, and you’re on the LIRR (or the MetroNorth, or the 7 train) and all is well, the sun is up, the sky is blue (it’s beautiful and so are you), you still have to take that lunch meeting with the boss, you still have a holiday list the size of Shaq’s inseam to wade through?
Well, then. Good to see you again. Glad we made it. And yes, Jets fans, I mean you, too. This still beats the alternative, doesn’t it? Hello?
Hello?
michael.vaccaro@nypost.com