Buffalo Sports Renaissance

I should preface this by saying my relationship with the Bills has always been a direct link to my personal life. My first lucid memory is the Bills running out of the tunnel on my old Zenith TV when I was 3. Your first interactions and memories shape the person you become in large and small ways. You also always hold on to those memories and store them in a special place in your heart. My mom used to sing “My Favorite Things” to me when every night when I was a toddler. The tender beauty of that song is not lost on me but is accentuated by the loving embrace of my mother in those formative years. The Bills have always held that same power for me.

2014 was not the year I had hoped for. I went into it drunk and hopeful and left it drunk and hopeful as people are one to do on New Year’s Eve. Those bookends are deceiving. The space between those points in time were littered with lots of little misfortunes but as many quiet triumphs. Our lives don’t have those grand, sweeping moments where everything turns around like we witness in fiction. In that year I missed a bicycle kick and landed upside down on my head, tore one of the muscles in my abdomen, broke up with my girlfriend of 3 years, and found myself floundering after graduating college. Luckily landing on my head resulted only in a concussion but it left me laying in dark rooms for a month. Even in my bad moments I found a little luck.

In March a friend of mine reached out to me about my interest in buying Bills’ season tickets. I wasn’t making great money as someone drowning in loans and debating on Grad School but I always wanted to have Season Tickets. I hastily said yes. We got a group of guys together and by August we went to our first game.

By September I had been steering out of the skid but things still were kind of heavy. My bad times weren’t as bad as some and I knew that. We all suffer in differing magnitudes. I knew people who had catastrophic things happen to them but suffer is no contest. Suffering isn’t a competition or a sport of who is justifiably unhappier. It’s just something we endure and enriches us for the cost of our sleepless nights and toil.

The Bills played their first game of the year against a heavily favored Bears’ team. The team was up for sale and was being bid on by the likes of Bon Jovi, Donald Trump, and Terry Pegula. Pegula was the least famous of the bunch anywhere but Buffalo. Within Western New York he is deified. Whether it’s justifiable or not is not something I can speak to. However tensions were high for the opener. The team might be sold away within days and they were playing a team considered a contender at the time. The Bills struck first and held a lead most of the game until it was tied and went to Overtime. When the Bills got the ball they moved downfield until fan favorite Fred Jackson burst down the sideline and stiffed-armed a safety viciously. They went on to win the game. My brother and jumped into each other’s arms. It was a game of Football in a very corrupt league but it felt good to see them win. That night I went to the gym with increased vigor and went into bed feeling a change was coming.

The next day late at night ESPN had confirmed the team was sold to Terry Pegula and would be staying in Buffalo. My Twitter feed became a celebration and I sobbed. I felt dumb crying about my love of a Football team but it was never about the on field product. It was always about those moments I shared with my brother and my friends. I don’t need the Bills to connect with people but growing up as socially stunted as I was in Middle School it never hurt to have something in common with everyone. The next morning other grown men called the radio station shedding their own tears over the joyous news. The next game was as loud as I’ve ever heard it. You could feel the stadium shake with noise when the defense took the field. We had waited years to be told the Bills were staying and finally we knew they would. Small victories kept piling up.

The coming weeks I spent concentrating on Grad School and getting to know my seatmates better. Few things advance friendships quite like alcohol and liking the same sports team. I was slowly turning things around. I started dating again. I found new people to be close to. My brother and I started our new, venerated tradition of getting wings and a beer every Friday. I tried to be the best friend I could to people. I posted my best GPA of my life with my most demanding course work. 

I found healing on those Sundays. Not all games were victories but I always walked out of the stadium laughing and a little exhausted. Drinking since 7AM does that to a person. The Ralph is a strange place to find healing. Its reputation is well known. It’s the place where people slide down railings and fall onto other people. People have been photographed performing sex acts inside the stadium. It has a persistent odor of vomit, sweat, and Canadian Pilsners. Hell, people have tragically lost their lives outside the stadium. Bad things have happened around the stadium nearly every year. This is why I wasn’t allowed to go until I was 12. My family had season tickets during the Super Bowl years. I was too young at the time but when I was 8 I wanted to go badly. My first game was in 2002 against the Bears. We won in overtime on a touchdown pass to Travis Henry but my most visceral memory of that game was when I witnessed a man defecating in the sink. It became very clear to me why I wasn’t allowed to go until I was older. The Ralph is a hellhole and has been called the drunkest sports stadium in America but I’m eternally thankful for the time I spent in it last year. Saying it was all going to Football games that changed things for me is naive, but I feel strongly about last Fall and those Sundays.

When we had the unbelievable Snowvember storm happen last November we had to move one of the games out of town. The stadium was buried in nearly 7 feet of snow that fell in 48 hours. Houses were caving in and people died stranded on the highways. The snow never came far enough North to hit me but it was an eerie week. Everything was closed even in locations where there was a meager 1 inch of snow on the ground. The Bills won handily against the Jets days later. The highlight of the game was when Scott Chandler scored a touchdown and pretended to shovel snow. It was a fun gesture and it took the edge off a surreal and scary week. Obviously winning a Football game didn’t make the snow or the destruction go away but it was a small thing that people in the community appreciated.

The season ended with a stunning win over the Packers. It was the last home game of the year and my friends and I celebrated heartily. We weren’t sure if we would do it again next year. I ran into one of my best friends at the game while she was in the middle of a date. I told her to ditch him and come see me later. That gamble paid off and turned into a nice relationship that ultimately ended but was a good thing. Good things kept happening to me that entire season. Some of them ended but good things aren’t really meant to last forever. That’s the gamble we run when we let something in. 

The Bills lost their next game to an inferior Raiders team and the season ended. It was a disappointing end to a fun year. The team finished 9-7 which was their best record in 10 years. It showed that maybe things could improve and they have a shot at making the playoffs soon. The night they were eliminated I went to Jim’s Steakout with my friend to get some food and then bring some food to my brother’s house. There we struck up a conversation with the people in line and for the next 20 minutes we recited the history of the Bills, the loss that just happened, and what next year will bring. Moments like those are why I come back to the Bills. I bonded with complete strangers in a restaurant over our shared love of our team. I’ve made so many friends through the team and there’s always something special about going out of town and meeting other people wearing their Bills’ gear. Complete strangers become quick friends. The sense of community home and abroad is what the Bills are about and will always be about to me. 

I renewed my tickets with my friends for this upcoming season. 60,000 other people did the same and the entire season is basically sold out. The team added talent to an already good team and hired a polarizing coach with past successes. Things seem in place. We even have an owner who lets the team function like a business. The hype in the community is overwhelming and it’s hard to ignore that this could backfire. I know we’ve felt similarly before but having hope is not an inherently bad thing. It’s a stupid sport in an even dumber league. That’s hard to ignore. However being excited for something and sharing that excitement with other people is why the Bills will always matter to me and so many people in Buffalo. In a world that divides us there are still things we can share. Sharing something important with other people got me back on my feet last year and I know that it can show me more important things this season.

Look at this amazing photo taken by Prescott Rossi of Fred Jackson and Kyle Orton. Doesn’t get much better than that.

We've all seen Frozen, right? If not do that or at least listen to "Let It Go" before we get started. That song has been everywhere alongside "Let Her Go" by Passenger and they definitely have some thematic crossover as evidenced by the billions of Youtube covers that we've all been sick of since February. What does this have to do with Buffalo sports? Hold on and stick with me. I'm taking detours but we'll get there. We as Buffalo sports fans have been through the ringer. The Sabres have finally bottomed out and got rid of most of the team's best players. It's been tough to see Vanek look great for Montreal or to see Gerbe have a rebound year after looking lost the past couple seasons as a Sabre. It really does suck and I get it. Watching Briere do great things in the playoffs makes my heart drop to my stomach. Just because it sucks though doesn't mean we need to hold onto these players.

The Sabres have been steadily getting worse for years and the team and its fans desperately tried to pretend that the core we had for years would work. The team regressed and regressed until we had no choice but to fire beloved coaches, not so beloved GM's, and a lot of players we've grown up with. Many of them have gone on to be successful. Lindy Ruff has a playoff team playing some good Hockey alongside solid possession numbers. Pominville was on a tear and still playing good Hockey. Miller is backstopping for a Cup contender and has looked a little up and down but when he's on, he's on. They were all big members of the community and people didn't want to lose them because they were afraid they'd succeed somewhere else, and often times they have. Just because someone is going to play somewhere else doesn't mean you have to keep them if they're not playing up to their ability here. It was time for the Sabres to start over. The team had grown stagnant and they weren't going the right direction anymore. The same can be said for the people in our lives at times. Some people just aren't meant to be there anymore and you have to relinquish them even if it's going to hurt to see them be happy with other people. The Sabres knew this was how it had to be and they made tough but necessary moves.

Nearly a month later I was fortunate enough to be invited to see the Sabres play the hated Ottawa Senators . That game was a fast paced game with lots of scoring and skill. When Chris Neil hit Chris Drury hard and he did not get up the entire game changed. Drew Stafford engaged Chris Neil and the following shift Buffalo went back after Ottawa which resulted in a passionate and violent brawl. The goalies grappled and the players were frantically throwing punches. As the fighting on the ice settled down the crowd erupted even louder than the din that had been going for the past few minutes. In between the benches Lindy Ruff was screaming at Brian Murray. The crowd was hanging on every mouth movement and motion and there was a sense that things could escalate even further. Once again the building was standing steadfast behind Lindy Ruff and began a disorganized chant of his name .When the game was over and the wreckage had settled Lindy Ruff was fined for sending out his fighters following the injury. His argument was a big part of the conversation that week and the city had begun to put together a fund to pay his fine. When he heard about it he showed appreciation of the gesture but turned down the money and donated it to charity.

Years had passed since that team had fallen short of the Stanley Cup and the Sabres had spent the better part of a year and a half trying to find themselves again after they had lost the talent and magic that made them great. It was February in 2009 and the night before Flight 3407 had crashed in Clarence. Clarence was a small community and Buffalo is a small city where everything that happens somewhere is felt by the region at large. When the plane crashed the whole area didn't know how to make sense of what happened. It was a cold, grey day and the Sabres had a game that night. Lindy Ruff and many of the players who had lived in Clarence spoke candidly about their experiences the night before when they began to realize something terrible had happened. When asked Lindy Ruff said "This is an incredibly sad day for our city and we've talked about it. This is going to reach and touch a lot of people." His words summarized the small town culture of Buffalo. It's a place where everyone knows each other through someone else and where each person's absence leaves a void. That exists in many other places but it's hard to think of somewhere as big as Buffalo where that's the case. As the night came the Sabres took a big lead early n the game and relinquished it in the third period. Needing a goal late captain Craig Rivet took a shot that was tipped by future captain Jason Pominville to tie the game with 2 seconds left and gave everyone something to cheer about. The game went to a shootout where the Sabres won. The team celebrated heartily on the ice and you could feel the release of emotion all over. The scene in the arena on TV was one of relief. It was an awful day for the city but the team was a great distraction that night that once again everyone rallied behind. It was fitting they'd be the ones to do it. They were the cultural identity of the city. No one was a bigger part of that identity than Lindy Ruff. When he spoke of the pain of his city and his team won that night it was hard to not realize how much he loved Buffalo and his status.

Thanks for the memories Lindy. 

Manti Te’o’s deceased girlfriend being fake has been the story of the day and will continue to be so for some weeks to come I’m sure. It’s sure to escalate and once again paint the picture of college sports being a cauldron of corruption and its practices being open to conjecture and much maligning. These stories have come from the usual suspects like Miami or some of the more revered groups like Penn State but few are as bizarre as the Manti Te’o saga. This has to be the first time someone has faked having a girlfriend. Especially for a college athlete, these guys should have no issue finding suitable women.

The quixotic nature of the scenario got even more peculiar when Notre Dame called for a press conference to address what the article said. Notre Dame put its athletic director out there for the entire world so he could defend his player and and answer questions. This isn’t a figurehead or a scapegoat, it was the athletic director. That is a man with a lot to lose and they put him out there for millions of people nearly 3 hours after the story was made public. 

Notre Dame is considered the standard for all that is right in sports. That designation has come with justified scrutiny especially considering the infractions of Lou Holtz’s tenure with the team and the terrifying story of Lizzy Seeberg (http://www.thenation.com/blog/172042/notre-dame-and-penn-state-two-rape-scandals-only-one-cry-justice). When discussing those claims with my father he said that it was nothing more than journalists trying to slander Notre Dame following their great season and embarrassing BCS defeat last week. I disagree with him quite vehemently considering that Notre Dame did nothing in a situation where they clearly needed to take action. On the contrary though, my father’s words point to the fact that no matter where you look there is corruption. In any situation if you dig deep enough you will find an organization didn’t do as they should. This has been a major issue in college sports because these universities are places of tradition, higher education, and are places that are supposed to mold us into the people we want to become. People of standing and virtue.