Jets, fans appear to be in stealth mode in the early days of training camp

FLORHAM PARK, N.J.

The Jets made a conscious effort to be much quieter this offseason. Even though it was a busy few months with a lot of big overhauls that inherently come with their own noises and dramas, the organization that typically tries to trumpet itself (yet more often than not winds up cuing a sad trombone whomp-whomp) took itself off the radar.

No reactions to what was being said about them, no huge spectacle news conferences, no whining or complaining or boasting.

“That was the plan,” new coach Aaron Glenn said of his team essentially going mum for the past few months.

Instead of roaring, these Jets are now in stealth mode.

Judging from the crowds at Friday’s and Saturday’s training camp practices, the first two of the season opened to the public, it’s a philosophy that the fan base is embracing as well.

During the previous two years, Jets workouts felt like the hottest nightclub in town, a place to see and be seen. Not only were the players stars but the people on the sideline who came to watch them from the worlds of music, movies and fashion were, too. And in the stands there was a palpable frenzy, an electricity that pulsed with chants, cheers and hard-to-contain optimism.

SEE PHOTOSPhotos: Jets training camp

This weekend, there was none of that. This was more of a Lincoln Center audience than a Studio 54 one, watching intently, applauding appropriately.

Oh, they were rooting and appreciating what they saw. On Saturday, that included the public debut of competitive passes thrown by new quarterback Justin Fields as a Jet (he took part in 7-on-7 drills for the first time since he dislocated a toe on Thursday). It was an intense one-on-one drill that came as close to live tackling as players can get without actually wearing full pads and going to the turf (which culminated, by the way, in a showdown between the two newest long-term Jets, Sauce Gardner and Garrett Wilson) and featured plenty of downfield passes to draw some oohs and aahs as the football traveled its NFL Films-scored arc toward its target.

That Beatles-at-Idlewild vibe that used to be the thumping soundtrack for the events? That’s moved on. To Latrobe, probably. If history is any indicator, it may not be back until Jordan Love wins a Super Bowl and a handful of MVPs in Green Bay, then gets dumped by the Packers, only to run into the waiting arms of the Jets. Third time a charm?

There were surprisingly few leftover number 8 jerseys in the stands, considering how much these fans forked over for them just two years ago. Sorry, newly signed safety and Valley Stream product Andre Cisco, who currently wears that digit, it doesn’t seem as if you will look out and see an ocean of fans wearing “your” number this season even if it is in hand-me-down fashion.

The crowds that used to chant “Aa-ron Ro-dgers!” and “Thank you Aa-ron!” to profess their gratefulness that the future Hall of Famer came to slum with them (an attitude that also was creepily held by the head coach and general manager) couldn’t find much to extol in unison. Not even a single “J-E-T-S!” The only time they mustered a chant was when some leftover rain water blew off the roof of the seating area and doused about a dozen or so spectators with primo positions.

“Front-row seats! Front-row seats!” a few of their compadres barked to taunt them.

A half-dozen would-be seeing-eye dogs came to the event with their handlers to get some experience working in crowds, with loud noises and navigating ramps and stairs. It was training camp for pups and players alike, although given the bare murmur of chatter, the reps for the footballs were definitely more challenging than the pooches. One of the labs seemed to be snoozing.

“I think it helps us if there’s some energy or whatever, just hearing the fans cheer, building our confidence,” cornerback Michael Carter II said, “but we like to be self-starters in that aspect as well and be able to be intrinsically motivated and be able to create our own energy.”

Good thing.

At first it felt as if the Jets fans on hand were just exhausted, not only from the early starting time of the morning practice — and for those making the long trip from Long Island over a construction-snarled George Washington Bridge crossing that approached two hours — but from trying to rev themselves up over and over again, only to have their hopes flame out or not ignite at all. This is their latest trip back to another future for them, another regime and roster and vision they have no choice but to buy into. How many fresh starts can one fan base take?

But as the day progressed and the seats filled in, it was clear that the lack of amplified enthusiasm wasn’t a knock against the team and its long history of disappointing. It was something else. Patience, perhaps? Belief in a process?

There seems to be an awareness that the Jets are building more than boasting, that they are doing things the so-called right way and not necessarily the flashy or exciting way.

Is that even possible around here?

“It’s been everything that I imagined, coming back and being the head coach of this team, and being out there on the field,” Glenn said Saturday. “Just hearing the fans again and knowing exactly what they’re looking for. They’re behind us, I know that, and I’m very appreciative of that.”

Glenn, of course, also knows all about the traumas Jets fans have withstood. When he was drafted as a cornerback in 1994, it had been a quarter-century since the franchise had won Super Bowl III. Now he has returned as the head coach and that trophy-less span has more than doubled.

“There are fans when I was playing that I still see out there, and I think that’s outstanding,” Glenn said. “Listen, we have some [fans] who are in it for the long haul, and I appreciate that. Just don’t let go of the rope. I’ll say it for all you guys, don’t let go of the rope, all right? Hold on tight. Be patient and give the guys time. We’ll be just fine, we’ll be just fine.”

Few pro sports organizations have as deep a hold on the psyches of their fans, are as intrinsically woven together with those who pull for them, as the Jets are. Think of the Jets and you picture not just Namath and Klecko and Revis and Martin but also the scores of nameless, miserable souls who have dedicated a good portion of their lives to supporting the franchise.

There are plenty of teams that lose (although none in North America that have lost as regularly as these guys, who have gone 14 straight years without a postseason appearance), but very few teams that drag their fans along with them like dangling mufflers clanking in the potholes.

The Jets are special that way.

Now things are quieter, though. More subdued. More normal. Expectations are generally positive but tempered with realism.

It’s not just the fans who sense that return to sanity.

“In the past, there’s been a lot of instability and stuff around just the whole operation,” running back Breece Hall said Saturday. “I feel like this year everybody’s bought into this coaching staff, everybody’s bought into our GM, everybody’s bought into our owner still. It just feels a lot better around here coming in every day.”

So for now, the Jets and their fans will try to stay quiet. They’ll try not to create too many ripples, sow too much unmeetable anticipation. This is a time to watch, observe, golf-clap, show support in less rowdy ways than the recent past.

That din was fun, but it always felt manufactured and manipulated. There wasn’t an earned authenticity to it.

Enjoy this relative silence.

If things go according to plan, there’ll be plenty to crank the volume back up about soon enough.

By Tom Rock

tom.rock@newsday.com@TomRock_Newsday

Tom Rock began covering sports for Newsday in 1996 and became its NFL columnist in 2022. He previously was Newsday's Giants beat writer beginning in 2008.