One thing I can say about this book is that it is definitely irreverent. However, as far as behind the scenes looks went, I felt Eskenazi could have gone much further. Then again, maybe he didn't have to. Anyone familiar with the NFL knows about the New York Jets - a franchise eternally doomed to second-class status in any number of measurable areas - except for one shining moment in 1969 when they shocked the football world by becoming the first charter AFL franchise to win a Super Bowl. But for most of their history, the Jets were a rudderless band of malcontents and misfits begging for leadership from the top which they never received, and eventually, the culture became paranoid and toxic. This is the loose chronological thread that Eskenazi follows, with glimpses of actual humanity every now and then peeking out of the miasmic muck - the meteoric, violent flameout that was the end of coach Walt Michaels' tenure is oddly touching, for example. He intentionally doesn't tie up any loose ends, because the Jets never seemed to, either. And it's a quick read, too.