SOMETIMES, I’M SO stubborn that I’ve seriously considered laser-eye surgery to correct my hindsight vision.

Because I still don’t think the New York Jets will beat the New England Patriots last Sunday.

I’ve heard all the arguments: the Jets coverage wanted to eat Boston’s babies, poor/no Pats wide receivers, that youthful offensive line failing to protect Tom Brady, Rex Ryan’s a big huggable coaching genius, those mind games, poorly-executed fake punts, and on and on.

But I still don’t see it happening. Last Sunday.

I don’t care if people who are more steeped in the game than I could ever hope to be are now shouting from the rooftops that New England overachieved at 14-2. That said, I will concede that the 45-3 hammering they gave the Jets seven or so weeks ago was an anomaly that drove Ryan’s angry-ass players on.

And still I don’t see it happening. Last Sunday.

Now I have to find a way of convincing my friend Rob that it didn’t happen. I’m fairly sure I can do it because he’s one of the trippiest characters I’ve ever met. I feel confident that I can get inside his head and convince him he’s wrong, it didn’t happen, forget about Pittsburgh next Sunday, parallel universe.

I might even use a playbook from Danny the Dealer: “Change down, man. Find your neutral space. You gotta rush. It’ll pass. Be seated.”

Last week, when I was more sure (if that’s even possible…) that the Jets could not and would not win, I ruffled Rob’s feathers. Usually impossible. He can only ever get worked up about good food (he’s a chef). Or that documentary ‘Babies’ (“Bayar and Ponijao are awesome. Mari and Hattie suck. Seriously.” Ok, it sounds funnier in the voice of a New York stoner).

Rob was horrified when I tried to knock sense into him the day after the Colts fell to the mighty ‘Gang Green’ (sidenote: please tell me I’m not the only one to laugh every time I hear that…). The Jets, I warned him, have shown next to nothing all season and just because they won their umpteenth tight game against poor opposition, that’s no reason to suggest they can achieve a 42-point turnaround. In Foxborough!

He really hated me at this point. I’d really let him down. And it helped me to understand the subtle differences between fan-dom here and on the other side of the Atlantic. To doubt your team at home is acceptable. To do that here is sacrilegious.

‘Bullying tactics’

Objective analysis – especially before the game has even started – is frowned upon and don’t even try to come back into the fold after Tom Brady’s first interception in three lunar phases leads you to doubt your defeatist attitude.

I shan’t be swayed. In protest at the bullying tactics of those who advocate sport’s irrational romance over reasonable analysis, I will look forward to this weekend’s conference games content in the knowledge that the New York Jets did everything in their power to set up what would have been a mouth-watering AFC clash in Pittsburgh, the home of the mighty Steelers.

Furthermore, I will absolutely refuse to engage in any of the sepia-tinted relish with which people are anticipating a Green Bay/Chicago classic at Soldier Field in the NFC.

And I will regret nothing.