Billy Joel at the Memorial Auditorium in Buffalo, New York was, as far as I can remember, my first concert going-experience. The first time I held a concert ticket, the first time I was able to hear what was only, at the time, on cassette and vinyl, the first time I ever saw the lights go down and a band take the stage.
On tour for The Bridge album, Billy Joel was a constant in my house, passed down from my parents. I used to lay in bed at night, pop a tape in the boom box, and fall asleep listening to Glass Houses or The Nylon Curtain. I probably still have the lyrics memorized to more Billy Joel songs than any other band or artist.
I remember that we had pretty decent seats on the floor, not right up front, but close enough that we didn’t have to squint. We were almost parallel with the mixing board station, and a nearby concert goer took a look at the mixing board, spotted the setlist, turned to their friend and said, “They’re starting with… trust?”
Twelve-year old Tim turned to his Dad and excitedly exclaimed, “They’re starting with ‘A Matter of Trust,'” which twelve-year old Tim considered the greatest rock song at that time. I have since re-evaluated that opinion.
You Can Go Home Again, Sort Of: Bowling Green
I’m not shy about my appreciation for my Alma Mater, Bowling Green State University. Probably because it’s an underdog school – in sports it lives in the shadow of Ohio State football and basketball, in hockey it’s perpetually good, but not great. The campus is a hodgepodge of buildings from different decades, with no central design theme or coherence. It’s notorious for the windy and cold winters, lacks the party school cool of Ohio University, the snob reputation of Miami of Ohio or the historical importance of Kent State. It is the ugly stepchild of higher education in Ohio, and yet everyone I know who went to the school loves to go back and visit.
Perhaps its the combination of small town and small college that gives the area a true college town feel. I can’t imagine the same experience at Ohio State considering the college is so massive and encompasses so much of what is Columbus. There seems to be little difference between Ohio State and Columbus. Just like at BG, things on and around campus have changed at Ohio Sate, but considering if the music store or sub shop closes near campus, there are already five more in operation, it doesn’t seem like all that big a deal. When the music instrument shop or BW-3s in BG shuts down, it’s a big deal because they’re the only ones in town. The changes are much more dramatic and hence, the passage of time seems much more radical.
Since graduating in 1998, I’ve had a dozen or so chances to go back. In the first few years, it was to play gigs with my band. I’ve been back for a few football games, a 51-28 win over Missouri in 2002 and a 24-14 loss to Akron in 2005, and a hockey game with my wife and brother-in-law Mike while he was a student there. I try to sell people on the quirky greatness of BG, but most don’t see it, which is not unusual as I’m not immune to both finding things interesting that others don’t while not finding things interesting that most do.
This Fall, I decided I wanted to head back for a football and hockey game, which were two of my favorite things to do during my time at BG.
Trip #1 – Football in October
For the football game, my friends and fellow BG alums Keith and J (and ex-bandmates) and Keith’s wife and BG album Wendy all piled in my car for a drive up to see the football team play Temple on October 22nd. Of course, this began with a discussion of where we would eat prior to the game, because all things start with eating in BG. For some reason that is confounding to outsiders, BG has a ridiculous amount of good food establishments. We settled on a BG staple, Easy Street Cafe.
East Street Cafe was and is a BG landmark. Back in the ’90s, the downstairs was the place you’d go if you wanted a trademark Club Sandwich, whether it be the standard Easy Street club or the Chubby Checker, my lunch of choice on this particular trip being the standard, or one of the many sandwich choices. At the time, the bar upstairs was also Easy Street, and had a small space for bands and weekly open mic nights, where I cut my teeth playing live, including one set with Keith that featured us covering R.E.M. and Jimi Hendrix.
After lunch, it was off to the SBX (Student Book Exchange) to grab some BG swag. Anyone who goes to BG is intimately familiar with SBX, because at some point you’re probably going there to buy a book for class. But things have changed. What used to be sandwiched between two businesses in a tiny strip at Wooster and Manville is now the predominate business having absorbed the corner business. This led to a discussion of he various businesses that had moved in and out of that location before SBX annexed it. When I got to BG in 1992, the corner bar was called Mark’s.
I had my first drink of alcohol in college at the end of my Sophomore year in that bar, so I have a warm spot for it. Sometime in the mid-90s, Mark’s gave way to a new bar with a dumb name like Shooters or something. By the late 90s or 00s, the bar was gone and WG Grinders had moved in. It’s odd to think that one of my seminal college experiences took place in what is now racks of hoodies and t-shirts, the same place where my friend J was now looking through racks of clothes for his toddler Zora.
After SBX, we headed over to park for the football game, but made a trek over to the new Stroh Center basketball arena, a beautiful new building that stands out like a sore thumb on a campus that is a mixture of traditional college buildings (i.e. old) and 70s concrete minimalism. We were all impressed with the massive falcon statue outside the arena, especially the well-crafted talons, only to learn many were upset that the statue wasn’t bigger.
The game itself was a bit of a let down, at least what we saw of it. Neither offense did much for three quarters, and midway through the third we decided to grab dinner before taking off for Columbus. That meant a trip to Mr. Spots, known for their subs. When we arrived, I pointed out a new addition to BG to Wendy. The Cookie Jar, a bakery, delivered fresh baked cookies, a concept I’ve been in love with since I learned about it a few years ago. Wendy ran across the street and placed an order.
As we followed the game on our iPhones and downed Mr. Spots subs, our cookies were made fresh for us to take on the ride back home. We decided to listen to the game on my car stereo, which led to an awkward moment in which I couldn’t figure out how to turn on the FM radio as I only listen to SiriusXM Satellite radio.
Of course, after leaving the game is exactly when the offenses started firing, and a back and forth scoring pattern started with BG taking a 6-3 lead early in the 4th quarter. A few minutes later, Temple drove and ran in the first touchdown of the game to take the lead 10-6, only to have BG battle back with a TD of their own with under eight minutes to play. Temple had a number of chances, but the BG defense held their own, and we drove back to Columbus with box of hot cookies and a win. Not a bad day.
Trip #2 – Hockey in November
One of the people I’m always unsuccessfully trying to convince about BG’s unique specialness is my wife Katie. When we started dating, her brother Mike was graduating from high school and would be heading off to BG the following Fall. Over the years, we ended up making several trips to see him – move-in day Freshman year, his performance in Godspell, a Shakespeare in the park performance that got cancelled, dinner and a hockey game and others.
This time around, it was just the two of us. Like the football trip, the day started at Easy Street Cafe. I decided to break from the Club Sandwich tradition and get a burger, but not any burger – an Elk burger. Anyone had an Elk burger? Not me, and since I’m a fan of all meats, I decided to give it a shot. Turns out, it’s a lot like Bison – lean, less fatty, and still delicious.
Because of high school playoff football at the football stadium, parking got a little crazy but we managed to find a spot not too far from Anderson Ice Arena. The spot, actually, was right infront of my freshman dorm, Batchelder, and we parked in the same small row of spots my parents parked in when I moved in my Freshman year back in 1992. After a quick stroll through the park between the quads we arrived at the ice arena just in time for the puck to drop on the Falcons game against Canisius College.
For all the improvements the football stadium has received over the years, and the building of the new basketball area, it was both reassuring and little disappointing that Anderson Arena, except for a few new posters and banners, looks exactly the same as when I arrived as a Freshman in ’92. The one thing that had changed was the crowd – the arena was half-full, which was probably due to the combination of an early 4:05 start and an unexciting non-conference opponent, but perhaps also due to the fact that BG hasn’t been great in a long time.
I don’t know if they still draw when Michigan and Ohio State come to town they way they did in the ’90s, when you had to get there early to secure a seat or you were standing ten deep along Zamboni entrance doors. Those games were loud, high-energy affairs thanks to the vocal student section armed with an arsenal of chants for every occasion.
The game itself was fairly tight and BG was clearly the better offensive team, dominating shots on goal during the first period to take a 1-0 lead. It was at this point Katie and I left our seats to stroll around the stadium, and when the second period started we stood by the glass near the Zamboni doors to watch the play, which is always an exciting view. The breakneck speed and inherent violence of hockey is undeniable when you view from ground level, and even though the board and reinforced plexi-glass protect you from the action, it’s still natural to lean back a bit when a collision occurs right in front of you.
The second period was more of the tight back ‘n forth until Canisius tied it late in the period, followed quickly by two BG goals making it 3-1, which we be the eventual final. We stuck around until about eight minutes to play in the third period, and then trekked back to our car to make one final stop a The Cookie Jar to grab some treats for the road.
Both trips were fun and worth it. There is an element of nostalgia and “remember this and that” upon the returns, which some might considering clinging to the past, but I don’t. We are the collected experiences of our lives, and returning to them from time to time can be not only worth a good story worth retelling, but a insight on the present. There were some formative experiences that, as I get older, start to lose their origins, or that I’ve never truly understood until years later. If going back to BG, or Buffalo, or wherever, uncovers those moments, then it’s worth it.
And have I told you how good the food is?
Perhaps its the combination of small town and small college that gives the area a true college town feel. I can’t imagine the same experience at Ohio State considering the college is so massive and encompasses so much of what is Columbus. There seems to be little difference between Ohio State and Columbus. Just like at BG, things on and around campus have changed at Ohio Sate, but considering if the music store or sub shop closes near campus, there are already five more in operation, it doesn’t seem like all that big a deal. When the music instrument shop or BW-3s in BG shuts down, it’s a big deal because they’re the only ones in town. The changes are much more dramatic and hence, the passage of time seems much more radical.
Since graduating in 1998, I’ve had a dozen or so chances to go back. In the first few years, it was to play gigs with my band. I’ve been back for a few football games, a 51-28 win over Missouri in 2002 and a 24-14 loss to Akron in 2005, and a hockey game with my wife and brother-in-law Mike while he was a student there. I try to sell people on the quirky greatness of BG, but most don’t see it, which is not unusual as I’m not immune to both finding things interesting that others don’t while not finding things interesting that most do.
This Fall, I decided I wanted to head back for a football and hockey game, which were two of my favorite things to do during my time at BG.
Trip #1 – Football in October
For the football game, my friends and fellow BG alums Keith and J (and ex-bandmates) and Keith’s wife and BG album Wendy all piled in my car for a drive up to see the football team play Temple on October 22nd. Of course, this began with a discussion of where we would eat prior to the game, because all things start with eating in BG. For some reason that is confounding to outsiders, BG has a ridiculous amount of good food establishments. We settled on a BG staple, Easy Street Cafe.
East Street Cafe was and is a BG landmark. Back in the ’90s, the downstairs was the place you’d go if you wanted a trademark Club Sandwich, whether it be the standard Easy Street club or the Chubby Checker, my lunch of choice on this particular trip being the standard, or one of the many sandwich choices. At the time, the bar upstairs was also Easy Street, and had a small space for bands and weekly open mic nights, where I cut my teeth playing live, including one set with Keith that featured us covering R.E.M. and Jimi Hendrix.
After lunch, it was off to the SBX (Student Book Exchange) to grab some BG swag. Anyone who goes to BG is intimately familiar with SBX, because at some point you’re probably going there to buy a book for class. But things have changed. What used to be sandwiched between two businesses in a tiny strip at Wooster and Manville is now the predominate business having absorbed the corner business. This led to a discussion of he various businesses that had moved in and out of that location before SBX annexed it. When I got to BG in 1992, the corner bar was called Mark’s.
I had my first drink of alcohol in college at the end of my Sophomore year in that bar, so I have a warm spot for it. Sometime in the mid-90s, Mark’s gave way to a new bar with a dumb name like Shooters or something. By the late 90s or 00s, the bar was gone and WG Grinders had moved in. It’s odd to think that one of my seminal college experiences took place in what is now racks of hoodies and t-shirts, the same place where my friend J was now looking through racks of clothes for his toddler Zora.
After SBX, we headed over to park for the football game, but made a trek over to the new Stroh Center basketball arena, a beautiful new building that stands out like a sore thumb on a campus that is a mixture of traditional college buildings (i.e. old) and 70s concrete minimalism. We were all impressed with the massive falcon statue outside the arena, especially the well-crafted talons, only to learn many were upset that the statue wasn’t bigger.
The game itself was a bit of a let down, at least what we saw of it. Neither offense did much for three quarters, and midway through the third we decided to grab dinner before taking off for Columbus. That meant a trip to Mr. Spots, known for their subs. When we arrived, I pointed out a new addition to BG to Wendy. The Cookie Jar, a bakery, delivered fresh baked cookies, a concept I’ve been in love with since I learned about it a few years ago. Wendy ran across the street and placed an order.
As we followed the game on our iPhones and downed Mr. Spots subs, our cookies were made fresh for us to take on the ride back home. We decided to listen to the game on my car stereo, which led to an awkward moment in which I couldn’t figure out how to turn on the FM radio as I only listen to SiriusXM Satellite radio.
Of course, after leaving the game is exactly when the offenses started firing, and a back and forth scoring pattern started with BG taking a 6-3 lead early in the 4th quarter. A few minutes later, Temple drove and ran in the first touchdown of the game to take the lead 10-6, only to have BG battle back with a TD of their own with under eight minutes to play. Temple had a number of chances, but the BG defense held their own, and we drove back to Columbus with box of hot cookies and a win. Not a bad day.
Trip #2 – Hockey in November
One of the people I’m always unsuccessfully trying to convince about BG’s unique specialness is my wife Katie. When we started dating, her brother Mike was graduating from high school and would be heading off to BG the following Fall. Over the years, we ended up making several trips to see him – move-in day Freshman year, his performance in Godspell, a Shakespeare in the park performance that got cancelled, dinner and a hockey game and others.
This time around, it was just the two of us. Like the football trip, the day started at Easy Street Cafe. I decided to break from the Club Sandwich tradition and get a burger, but not any burger – an Elk burger. Anyone had an Elk burger? Not me, and since I’m a fan of all meats, I decided to give it a shot. Turns out, it’s a lot like Bison – lean, less fatty, and still delicious.
Because of high school playoff football at the football stadium, parking got a little crazy but we managed to find a spot not too far from Anderson Ice Arena. The spot, actually, was right infront of my freshman dorm, Batchelder, and we parked in the same small row of spots my parents parked in when I moved in my Freshman year back in 1992. After a quick stroll through the park between the quads we arrived at the ice arena just in time for the puck to drop on the Falcons game against Canisius College.
For all the improvements the football stadium has received over the years, and the building of the new basketball area, it was both reassuring and little disappointing that Anderson Arena, except for a few new posters and banners, looks exactly the same as when I arrived as a Freshman in ’92. The one thing that had changed was the crowd – the arena was half-full, which was probably due to the combination of an early 4:05 start and an unexciting non-conference opponent, but perhaps also due to the fact that BG hasn’t been great in a long time.
I don’t know if they still draw when Michigan and Ohio State come to town they way they did in the ’90s, when you had to get there early to secure a seat or you were standing ten deep along Zamboni entrance doors. Those games were loud, high-energy affairs thanks to the vocal student section armed with an arsenal of chants for every occasion.
The game itself was fairly tight and BG was clearly the better offensive team, dominating shots on goal during the first period to take a 1-0 lead. It was at this point Katie and I left our seats to stroll around the stadium, and when the second period started we stood by the glass near the Zamboni doors to watch the play, which is always an exciting view. The breakneck speed and inherent violence of hockey is undeniable when you view from ground level, and even though the board and reinforced plexi-glass protect you from the action, it’s still natural to lean back a bit when a collision occurs right in front of you.
The second period was more of the tight back ‘n forth until Canisius tied it late in the period, followed quickly by two BG goals making it 3-1, which we be the eventual final. We stuck around until about eight minutes to play in the third period, and then trekked back to our car to make one final stop a The Cookie Jar to grab some treats for the road.
Both trips were fun and worth it. There is an element of nostalgia and “remember this and that” upon the returns, which some might considering clinging to the past, but I don’t. We are the collected experiences of our lives, and returning to them from time to time can be not only worth a good story worth retelling, but a insight on the present. There were some formative experiences that, as I get older, start to lose their origins, or that I’ve never truly understood until years later. If going back to BG, or Buffalo, or wherever, uncovers those moments, then it’s worth it.
And have I told you how good the food is?
I Can’t Quit You: The Journey of a Buffalo Bills Fan
I really had no choice in the matter. By whatever random roll of the cosmic dice, I was born to a family in Buffalo, New York, and because of that, I am a Buffalo Bills fan.
I am a strong believer in the concept that if your town has a sports team, you root for that team. If you’re born in say Columbus, Ohio, you can be more flexible – Cleveland Browns or Cincinnati Bengals. Born in state without any professional football, the world is your oyster. Not for me, and that is my cross.
As a young Buffalonian, I don’t recall much of my Bills fandom. I know I attended my first game on November 20, 1983 at Rich Stadium, then and now the home of the Bills. It was against the then Los Angeles Raiders, and the Bills lost. I was nine, and a few rows back from where I was sitting with a friend and his father who brought us, a fight broke out late in the game. It could have been between a Bills fan and a Raiders fan, it could have been between two Bills fans, who knows. All I remember is that within seconds an adult got pushed into me and I was covered in beer. An incredible first experience, by any measure.
From 1983 to 1987, my Bills intake was fairly passive. I watched the occasional games, which were occasional only because the team was so horrific they were rarely on television. I was more familiar with Joe Montana, Jerry Rice, Tom Rathman and the 49ers than most of the Bills players, who suffered through consecutive 2-14 seasons in ’84 and ‘85 before miraculously doubling that in ’86 for 4-12, and finally limping to a 7-8 record in the strike shortened ’87 season.
But in 1988, everything changed.
I’m not sure exactly when, but at some point in the 1988 season I began to feel something for Bills games I had never felt before: excitement. They started out with four consecutive wins before dropping a bad loss at Chicago. Still, 4-1, there was something going on. And it kept going on. The Bills rattled off seven straight wins culminating in the infamous 9-6 overtime victory against the Jets that clinched the Division. This is the game then voice of the Bills Van Miller coined the phrase “fandemonium” as ecstatic Bills fans rushed the field and tore down the goalposts.
The Bills finished 12-4, won their Division playoff game against the Houston Oilers before travelling down to Cincinnati and losing to the Sam Wyche/Icky Shuffle Bengals. If you want to know where my dislike of the Bengals comes from, you can trace it to this loss.
The ’89 season was a downer, the Bills fought internally and lost a wild playoff game in Cleveland to the Browns. In retrospect, I would rather be losing wild playoffs games than deal with the misery that was the Bills of the ‘00s, but I’ll get to that later. By a cruel twist of fate, after losing a heart-wrenching game to the Browns, my family ended up moving to Cleveland in the following months. Salt, meet wound.
The ’88 and ’89 seasons were really the innocent years. I loaded up on all the Bills memorabilia I could find, and family members were happy to oblige my obsession. I decorated my room with as many posters, pennants and anything else with a Bills logo. I saved newspapers, cut out pictures and made collages. I even got to go to a few games with my Dad, some wins, some losses, but these were good teams and they were always entertaining.
The opening game of the ’89 season was at Miami, at the time the hated rival of the Bills. They fell behind and staged a late comeback, and with only seconds quarterback Jim Kelly, not the most agile of passers, took the snap inside the five yard line, hesitated a second, and then darted into the end zone for a 27-24 victory. I was watching the game in my bedroom, my Dad in his, and as soon as Kelly crossed the end zone line, we both screamed, ran out of our rooms and high-fived about ten times in .3 seconds. This sort of joyous celebration would not last long thanks to two words:
Raised Expectations.
Now that the Bills had been to the playoffs for two consecutive years, and by all accounts were getting better, the 1990 season, my first as a resident of Ohio, took on even more importance. I was now living vicariously through the Bills, as they were my weekly connection to my hometown. However, as they racked up the wins, the sheer joy of winning gave way to the fear of losing. Wins were less and less exciting, more of a relief. They were supposed to be winning. The losses were like punches to the gut. They rolled to a 13-3 record, beat hated Miami in the Divisional playoff game and then pounded the then Oakland Raiders 51-3 in the AFC Championship Game.
My Dad and I drove from Cleveland to Buffalo for the Raiders game, sat in horrible seats in just about the last row of the stadium which I’m sure he overpaid for, and watched the Bills dismantle the Raiders. It was so lopsided, we left at the end of third quarter with the score 41-3, drove back to Cleveland and watched the end of the NFC Championship game. For the two weeks leading up the Super Bowl, it was a combination of nervous anxiety and excitement. And then it happened.
Wide right.
I’m not ashamed to admit I cried. All my teenage emotions were wrapped up in that team, and they released in an emotion that would become all too familiar to Bills fans: disappointment. Bitter, gut-crushing disappointment.
The following year, Thurman Thomas lost his helmet and the Bills looked unprepared, losing badly to the Redskins in the Super Bowl. The next year at college, I and sat watched the Cowboys dismantle the Bills the way the Bills had dismantled the Raiders just three years earlier. Of course, the Bills helped with a mistake after mistake, but it was pretty clear who was the better team. And finally, the Bills returned in ’93, again against the Cowboys. They played tentative, nervous and conservative, and lost again. I sat in my dorm room, and as the clock wound down I got up, grabbed my coat and left. I walked around the campus for an hour. There was zero fun left in it anymore, and I was burned out.
It’s fun to play the “would you” game with the Bills. Would you trade the four Super Bowl losses for one win if that meant the Bills would never made it back during your lifetime? That’s good one. I remember watching an episode of the X-Files in the early nineties in which the character of “The Smoking Man,” who was apparently involved in running the planet, made a crack about “the Buffalo Bills will never win the Super Bowl.” It wasn’t a prediction, he was dictating it. And that’s what it felt like. The same cosmic forces that said, you, you’re going to be a Bills fan, we’re now saying, you, you will be a forever suffering Bills fan.
Even though I felt burned, it never stopped me from defending my team. When fans in Buffalo started piling on the team after the fourth Super Bowl loss, I defended my team the best way I could, writing about it.
To be honest, the rest of the ‘90s are a blur. I know they made the playoffs a couple of times, most of the stars left at the end of their careers and played for other teams. All except Jim Kelly and his center Kent Hull. They retired on the same day, which I thought was, for a team that wasn’t all touchy-feely, kind of a touching thing, and not because for several years Jim had his hands under Kent’s ass.
All this suffering culminated in the last infamous playoff appearances, now dubbed “The Motor City Miracle.” You know it, the one in which the Tennessee Titans use a bad call to score a cheap playoff win on the last play of the game. Par for the course, at this point. Which leads us to “this point.”
Since that “miracle,” the Bills have no only not made the playoffs, only once have they even sniffed them. They’ve alternated between mediocre and bad, usually with either a ridiculously porous defense or an unwatchable offense. And yet, here I am, still planning each Fall Sunday around the regular season schedule. Still hoping for wins when everything in my brain tells me the team cannot compete. The question is why.
Obviously, there’s the whole being born there and unwittingly hitching my horse to this train wreck of an organization. People call the Raiders a train wreck, but they’ve won Super Bowls. The Bills had a good stretch, six to seven years if you’re feeling generous, but nothing equals a Super Bowl.
I could have ignored the NFL, but that seems impossible. Whatever neurons in the brain that determine likes and dislikes, my was wired for competition from an early age. I was drawn to the Bills like moths to the proverbial light. But I was also a Sabres fan, and my interest dropped off considerably when we moved away from Buffalo, even as the team was making deep playoff runs. Fantasy Football could be to blame, but I think my interest in NFL increased overall, not my passion for the Bills.
It has gotten to the point where losing is so normal and routine; I just want to avoid the gut-wrenching losses. I want to avoid watching Tony Romo get picked off five times in the first half of the 2007 Monday Night Football game, only to see the Bills squander a lead and watch Nick Folk kick a game winning field goal with no time left. Or watch the Bills fall far behind the Browns in 2008, again on Monday Night Football, fight their way back into the lead, watch Phil Dawson kick a field goal to take the lead back and then have the Bills miss the game winning field goal with seconds left. I could go on. The ‘00s are riddled with almost wins punctuated by stupefying collapses.
In my darkest times, I curse the Bills and demand they leave town. Los Angeles, you can have ‘em, I think. And then I dismiss it, because having a perpetual loser is better than no loser at all. It’s a sad position to be in, when the best memories are ones from twenty years ago, but that’s what it means to be a Bills fan. There’s really no end point to all this, unless of course the Bills start competing and winning again, which seems ridiculous. But you got to believe, I guess. Or as Van Miller used to say, you gotta Bill-lieve.
(I wrote everything before this prior to the start of the season)
And like clockwork, the Bills have started toying with me again. They’ve started the 2011 3-1 with amazing come-from-behind wins in consecutive weeks against the Raiders and, more importantly, the previously unbeatable New England Patriots. Of course, when there is sunshine with the Bills, I’m always on the lookout for storm clouds.
Week four, the Bills up 10 with less than five to play, and what happens. They blow it. Cincinnati, the hated Bengals, lead by a rookie quarterback, rally to win on a last second field goal.
Ugh.
I am a strong believer in the concept that if your town has a sports team, you root for that team. If you’re born in say Columbus, Ohio, you can be more flexible – Cleveland Browns or Cincinnati Bengals. Born in state without any professional football, the world is your oyster. Not for me, and that is my cross.
As a young Buffalonian, I don’t recall much of my Bills fandom. I know I attended my first game on November 20, 1983 at Rich Stadium, then and now the home of the Bills. It was against the then Los Angeles Raiders, and the Bills lost. I was nine, and a few rows back from where I was sitting with a friend and his father who brought us, a fight broke out late in the game. It could have been between a Bills fan and a Raiders fan, it could have been between two Bills fans, who knows. All I remember is that within seconds an adult got pushed into me and I was covered in beer. An incredible first experience, by any measure.
From 1983 to 1987, my Bills intake was fairly passive. I watched the occasional games, which were occasional only because the team was so horrific they were rarely on television. I was more familiar with Joe Montana, Jerry Rice, Tom Rathman and the 49ers than most of the Bills players, who suffered through consecutive 2-14 seasons in ’84 and ‘85 before miraculously doubling that in ’86 for 4-12, and finally limping to a 7-8 record in the strike shortened ’87 season.
(Above - Bedroom in Buffalo)
But in 1988, everything changed.
I’m not sure exactly when, but at some point in the 1988 season I began to feel something for Bills games I had never felt before: excitement. They started out with four consecutive wins before dropping a bad loss at Chicago. Still, 4-1, there was something going on. And it kept going on. The Bills rattled off seven straight wins culminating in the infamous 9-6 overtime victory against the Jets that clinched the Division. This is the game then voice of the Bills Van Miller coined the phrase “fandemonium” as ecstatic Bills fans rushed the field and tore down the goalposts.
The Bills finished 12-4, won their Division playoff game against the Houston Oilers before travelling down to Cincinnati and losing to the Sam Wyche/Icky Shuffle Bengals. If you want to know where my dislike of the Bengals comes from, you can trace it to this loss.
(Above - Bedroom in Buffalo)
The ’89 season was a downer, the Bills fought internally and lost a wild playoff game in Cleveland to the Browns. In retrospect, I would rather be losing wild playoffs games than deal with the misery that was the Bills of the ‘00s, but I’ll get to that later. By a cruel twist of fate, after losing a heart-wrenching game to the Browns, my family ended up moving to Cleveland in the following months. Salt, meet wound.
The ’88 and ’89 seasons were really the innocent years. I loaded up on all the Bills memorabilia I could find, and family members were happy to oblige my obsession. I decorated my room with as many posters, pennants and anything else with a Bills logo. I saved newspapers, cut out pictures and made collages. I even got to go to a few games with my Dad, some wins, some losses, but these were good teams and they were always entertaining.
(Above - Bedroom in Cleveland)
The opening game of the ’89 season was at Miami, at the time the hated rival of the Bills. They fell behind and staged a late comeback, and with only seconds quarterback Jim Kelly, not the most agile of passers, took the snap inside the five yard line, hesitated a second, and then darted into the end zone for a 27-24 victory. I was watching the game in my bedroom, my Dad in his, and as soon as Kelly crossed the end zone line, we both screamed, ran out of our rooms and high-fived about ten times in .3 seconds. This sort of joyous celebration would not last long thanks to two words:
Raised Expectations.
Now that the Bills had been to the playoffs for two consecutive years, and by all accounts were getting better, the 1990 season, my first as a resident of Ohio, took on even more importance. I was now living vicariously through the Bills, as they were my weekly connection to my hometown. However, as they racked up the wins, the sheer joy of winning gave way to the fear of losing. Wins were less and less exciting, more of a relief. They were supposed to be winning. The losses were like punches to the gut. They rolled to a 13-3 record, beat hated Miami in the Divisional playoff game and then pounded the then Oakland Raiders 51-3 in the AFC Championship Game.
My Dad and I drove from Cleveland to Buffalo for the Raiders game, sat in horrible seats in just about the last row of the stadium which I’m sure he overpaid for, and watched the Bills dismantle the Raiders. It was so lopsided, we left at the end of third quarter with the score 41-3, drove back to Cleveland and watched the end of the NFC Championship game. For the two weeks leading up the Super Bowl, it was a combination of nervous anxiety and excitement. And then it happened.
(Above - Dorm room at Bowling Green)
Wide right.
I’m not ashamed to admit I cried. All my teenage emotions were wrapped up in that team, and they released in an emotion that would become all too familiar to Bills fans: disappointment. Bitter, gut-crushing disappointment.
The following year, Thurman Thomas lost his helmet and the Bills looked unprepared, losing badly to the Redskins in the Super Bowl. The next year at college, I and sat watched the Cowboys dismantle the Bills the way the Bills had dismantled the Raiders just three years earlier. Of course, the Bills helped with a mistake after mistake, but it was pretty clear who was the better team. And finally, the Bills returned in ’93, again against the Cowboys. They played tentative, nervous and conservative, and lost again. I sat in my dorm room, and as the clock wound down I got up, grabbed my coat and left. I walked around the campus for an hour. There was zero fun left in it anymore, and I was burned out.
(Above - One of the many, many gifts I received that was Buffalo Bills related)
It’s fun to play the “would you” game with the Bills. Would you trade the four Super Bowl losses for one win if that meant the Bills would never made it back during your lifetime? That’s good one. I remember watching an episode of the X-Files in the early nineties in which the character of “The Smoking Man,” who was apparently involved in running the planet, made a crack about “the Buffalo Bills will never win the Super Bowl.” It wasn’t a prediction, he was dictating it. And that’s what it felt like. The same cosmic forces that said, you, you’re going to be a Bills fan, we’re now saying, you, you will be a forever suffering Bills fan.
Even though I felt burned, it never stopped me from defending my team. When fans in Buffalo started piling on the team after the fourth Super Bowl loss, I defended my team the best way I could, writing about it.
To be honest, the rest of the ‘90s are a blur. I know they made the playoffs a couple of times, most of the stars left at the end of their careers and played for other teams. All except Jim Kelly and his center Kent Hull. They retired on the same day, which I thought was, for a team that wasn’t all touchy-feely, kind of a touching thing, and not because for several years Jim had his hands under Kent’s ass.
All this suffering culminated in the last infamous playoff appearances, now dubbed “The Motor City Miracle.” You know it, the one in which the Tennessee Titans use a bad call to score a cheap playoff win on the last play of the game. Par for the course, at this point. Which leads us to “this point.”
Since that “miracle,” the Bills have no only not made the playoffs, only once have they even sniffed them. They’ve alternated between mediocre and bad, usually with either a ridiculously porous defense or an unwatchable offense. And yet, here I am, still planning each Fall Sunday around the regular season schedule. Still hoping for wins when everything in my brain tells me the team cannot compete. The question is why.
Obviously, there’s the whole being born there and unwittingly hitching my horse to this train wreck of an organization. People call the Raiders a train wreck, but they’ve won Super Bowls. The Bills had a good stretch, six to seven years if you’re feeling generous, but nothing equals a Super Bowl.
I could have ignored the NFL, but that seems impossible. Whatever neurons in the brain that determine likes and dislikes, my was wired for competition from an early age. I was drawn to the Bills like moths to the proverbial light. But I was also a Sabres fan, and my interest dropped off considerably when we moved away from Buffalo, even as the team was making deep playoff runs. Fantasy Football could be to blame, but I think my interest in NFL increased overall, not my passion for the Bills.
It has gotten to the point where losing is so normal and routine; I just want to avoid the gut-wrenching losses. I want to avoid watching Tony Romo get picked off five times in the first half of the 2007 Monday Night Football game, only to see the Bills squander a lead and watch Nick Folk kick a game winning field goal with no time left. Or watch the Bills fall far behind the Browns in 2008, again on Monday Night Football, fight their way back into the lead, watch Phil Dawson kick a field goal to take the lead back and then have the Bills miss the game winning field goal with seconds left. I could go on. The ‘00s are riddled with almost wins punctuated by stupefying collapses.
In my darkest times, I curse the Bills and demand they leave town. Los Angeles, you can have ‘em, I think. And then I dismiss it, because having a perpetual loser is better than no loser at all. It’s a sad position to be in, when the best memories are ones from twenty years ago, but that’s what it means to be a Bills fan. There’s really no end point to all this, unless of course the Bills start competing and winning again, which seems ridiculous. But you got to believe, I guess. Or as Van Miller used to say, you gotta Bill-lieve.
(I wrote everything before this prior to the start of the season)
And like clockwork, the Bills have started toying with me again. They’ve started the 2011 3-1 with amazing come-from-behind wins in consecutive weeks against the Raiders and, more importantly, the previously unbeatable New England Patriots. Of course, when there is sunshine with the Bills, I’m always on the lookout for storm clouds.
Week four, the Bills up 10 with less than five to play, and what happens. They blow it. Cincinnati, the hated Bengals, lead by a rookie quarterback, rally to win on a last second field goal.
Ugh.
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