I wanted Aaron Rodgers to suffer, but not like this

Being a hater isn’t easy, not if you’re serious about your craft. Sure, I could be an amateur hater and pick out easy targets for my derision: the Arizona Cardinals, Golden Corral, grown adults who are WAY too into Olivia Rodrigo, etc. But that’s not what SFGATE pays me for. No, my bosses here pay me to hunt bigger game. This is why I work out all day and then study tape all night long. I need to be in the best hating shape of my life if I’m going to take down the likes of Ron DeSantis, or the Houston Astros, or any other cultural giant who’s demonstrably terrible but still powerful enough to make a case for his or herself.

Which brings us to Aaron Rodgers. Aaron Rodgers, indisputably one of the best quarterbacks in NFL history, made his debut for the New York Jets on Monday night and promptly tore his Achilles tendon in his first series, ending his season and possibly (dramatic music begins playing) his career. In many ways, this was the sort of karmic payback that Rodgers richly deserved. For icing out his own teammates in Green Bay. For lying about his vaccination status to a general public already enervated from dealing with pandemic deniers of his ilk. For constantly drawing attention to himself, often by locking himself inside a therapeutic coffin sculpted out of recovered geodes. And for going on Pat McAfee’s show to say weird s—t like, “Dr. Fauci is the REAL shadow commissioner.” This man deserved to go out in ignominy.

And I deserved to witness it. I am a seasoned veteran of hating Aaron Rodgers. When I get up in the morning, the first thing I ask myself is, “How can I best hate Aaron Rodgers today?” So I should have been jumping up and down in ecstasy when I saw the man go down last night. Because while hating on Rodgers seems easy, his on-field resume speaks for itself and usually trumps any argument I throw out saying, “OK yeah he’s a god out there, but he’s also a BIG JERK!” The only true validation I can get in damning Aaron Rodgers must come from him making an ass of himself ON the field, in contrast to the many times he does so off of it.

But Rodgers barely saw the field last night at all. This wasn’t like a season ago, when Rodgers went 8-9 with the Packers (DISCLOSURE: I am a Vikings fan, which only weakens my standing against the man) and played poorly for long stretches of it. That’s the kind of physical evidence I needed to prove that Aaron Rodgers sucks. But I didn’t get that proof last night. All I got was a lot of American flags and then three hours of Zach Wilson checking down to the nearest family member. The Jets still won that game on a walk-off punt return TD in overtime, but that final score was beside the point. It almost felt fake, like what happened never should have never happened to begin with.

Injuries are deeply unfair this way. 49ers fans know this all too well, because they reached the NFC title game a year ago only for a plague of locusts to descend upon their quarterbacks in rapid succession, rendering the contest a nonaffair. That’s not satisfying for the losing team OR for the winning one. Ask any NFL player if they’d like to win a conference championship by default instead of by defeating the best of their peer group, and none of them will choose the former.

Good fans won’t either. And I am, to my current regret, a good football fan. I hate Aaron Rodgers, but that doesn’t mean I sit there every day hoping that his foot will spontaneously detonate. To do so would make me an Eagles fan. I want my enemies to be ritualistically humiliated, but ON THE FIELD. Where it counts. That’s what gives me an emotional investment in the sport, and that’s what makes for better television.

And we just lost what promised to be a great run of television, with Rodgers as the primary antagonist. His Jets could’ve gone 5-12 with him, true. They also could’ve made the AFC title game and then choked it away, or they could have (ugh) won the Super Bowl, I suppose, forcing me to wait another year for the man’s comeuppance. All of those titillating outcomes were waiting out there in the ether last night, with Jets fans packing their terrible stadium in fevered and justified anticipation. And what do they get now? Another awful Jets season, same as they’ve endured for the past 50 years. These fans know they aren’t winning the Super Bowl now. They know that last night’s victory was a happy accident and not much more. All of their hopes and dreams for a good — and entertaining! — season, and all of it was gone before their new QB had even completed a pass.

I’ve been on their side of that equation before. Not to such a dramatic degree, but it sucks ANY time it happens, because it makes your fondest dreams feel like wasted time. The cruelest reality check. Fireman Ed is a loser and everyone hates him, but I know normal Jets fans out there, and my first instinct last night was to sympathize with them when Rodgers got carted off, instead of to gloat over Rodgers’ fresh corpse. Sometimes the angel on your shoulder IS the real you, and not the devil opposite him.

Rodgers’ injury is also a glaring illustration of how badly the NFL needs its quarterbacks to be good, healthy and abundant. Tom Brady isn’t here anymore, nor is Drew Brees, Ben Roethlisberger, or Daniel Jones (sly wink). Without good quarterbacks, the league suffers, which means that I suffer, both as a hater and a devoted fan of all things football. (Really, I’m the victim when you think about it.) This is why the league has instituted so many rules to protect its quarterbacks, because they make the sport what it is while remaining eternally finite in supply. When one of them goes down, that’s another season of awful games that everyone has to endure. I’d rather be entertained, regardless of the final outcome.

So, with that in mind, I’d like to say something to Aaron Rodgers: Aaron, don’t retire just yet. Please rehab, please get better, and please come back to your team more determined than you’ve ever been. And then, once you’re finally back to full strength, please eat s—t forever.