The syndrome is a familiar one. Men of a certain age -- and it is almost always men -- wake up one day and find that they are no longer the center of the universe. Women fail to look their way, co-workers don't scurry to fetch them coffee, and bosses stop thinking of them as someone on the rise. And while some respond by adjusting to a new reality where their relevance is on the wane, others do really dumb things. They grow goatees -- I think mine looks great, by the way -- they buy cars only two people can fit in and start wearing clothing that attracts attention for all the wrong reasons. If they are lucky, when the temporary insanity ends, they still have jobs, spouses and homes. Or you end up like NBC, with broken furniture everywhere and divorce seeming like the only sensible option. In an effort to transition 'The Tonight Show' franchise, let's just say that the network had, ah, some issues of adjustment to a new world of increased options and less relevance for broadcast networks. In the old paradigm, networks operated from Olympian heights, but with cable outlets multiplying, a network's size and mass audience are not always an advantage. While cable networks can pick and choose their spots, building discrete successes while living off a combination of fees and advertising, broadcast networks are at the top of a huge ecosystem where their every move lands forcefully on affiliated locals. For big corporations, it is often about defense, so it made some sense to put Jay Leno on a timer to hang on to the very talented Conan O'Brien. And when NBC struggled to compete with its network brethren because of bad programming bets, it addressed the decline by changing the game, busting up the prime-time grid and inserting Leno at 10 p.m. At the time, it was viewed as a way to cut costs and keep a proven talent away from competitors, while making room for the ascendance of O'Brien to 'The Tonight Show.' Everybody hugged. It was win-win, right? But the not-so-reinvented, not-so-funny 'Jay Leno Show' had the ratings of a night light, setting off a revolt from affiliates that, according to Ad Age, had a terrible year, with a breathtaking 22.4 percent drop in revenue from 2008. And it didn't help that O'Brien was pummeled on Leno's old perch. The fiasco suggests that networks mess with the inertia of viewing habits at their extreme peril. On Thursday night, Leno had no trouble finding the funny in the rumors his show might be canceled, suggesting NBC stands for 'Never Believe your Contract.' He may play a nice guy on television, but he seemed oddly thrilled by the disarray. Of course, the mayhem was terrible news for another NBC guy, a by-now veteran performer who has to be wondering what this failed experiment means for his future in the business. That would be Jeff Zucker. Sure, it was not a great night to be Conan O'Brien, who managed no jokes on Thursday about the fact that his time slot might be in jeopardy and appeared so small, so bereft, that he looked as if he were being filmed from outer space. But it was Zucker who decided to fix the network's problems in prime time by putting late night franchises in play and it was, in the end, Zucker who decided that the solution to bailing out a leaky boat was to blow more holes in the bottom. Zucker has a three-year contract with his incoming bosses at Comcast, who will probably notice that everything around him is now horribly damaged. Not since New Coke has a storied brand been so thoroughly maimed. 'The Tonight Show,' once a gilded entertainment franchise, has become just one more broken toy in the mistake pile. 'You have the combination of expired content, in terms of current public taste, appearing at the wrong time on a medium that has lost its salience, by whatever standards you use,' said Paul Levinson, professor of communication at Fordham University. After a series of bold moves, the network is trying to hedge its way out of the corner, by slipping 'Leno' later back in the schedule, which effectively pushes O'Brien and Jimmy Fallon of 'Late Night' deeper into the night. On Sunday, official word came at the Television Critics Association's winter event, where Jeff Gaspin, chairman of NBC Universal's television division, said that Leno would be back at 11:35 p.m. with a half-hour show, but added that the network had yet to reach an agreement with O'Brien. The message to the younger talent is one thing -- wait for a turn that may never come or may be taken back at any second -- but the message to younger audiences is even clearer: a legacy industry will default to legacy assets and ride them down to the bitter end. The network model explains why Ted Koppel is favored over younger talent to serve as interlocutor on 'This Week' and why, when networks make what they see as a risky move -- hey, let's put a woman in the anchor chair -- it will be someone like Katie Couric or Diane Sawyer, both of whom have been on television for decades. Twitter nation was livid, of course. 'Nice work NBC. Take out the only late night host my age range and younger will even consider watching,' said @MatthewJBrown, Tweeting the sentiments of many. No one thought the network television business would age gracefully, but NBC has turned two of its biggest stars into the equivalent of Jon and Kate: Two wounded parties biding their time until the divorce comes through. By Friday night, O'Brien had a day to gain some perspective and ticked off a list of rumors, including a last one that sounded just about right: 'NBC is going to throw me and Jay into a pit with sharpened sticks. The one who crawls out alive gets to leave NBC.' 