Everything goes wrong. That sounds about right. The latest edition was just another against the New England Patriots where Buffalo Bills fans were rendered disinterested by the final quarter. Look up occasionally from glowing pocket screens to see how horrid it’s gotten.
If the franchise wants us engaged with the clash, they can go first. They didn’t even make the trench of the division’s Death Star, a galactic failure that was deflating during the Drew Bledsoe era. They play like the prequels, which were released the last time these games were competitive.
Our mistake was thinking pain would eventually cease. New England toying with our beloved side is is as close to eternity as can be experienced. Like Pittsburgh Dad noted, Brady is the Y2K bug. I thought computer nerds fixed that.
Oh, the Patriots have only been the boss level for about one-quarter of an average human lifespan. Foxborough’s deal with Satan began five years before the last time the Bills won the division if forever doesn’t feel long enough.
What’s it been like this century watching Buffalo play New England, I wondered as the field goal attempt hit the crossbar and bounced out? Not bothering to make sure Julian Edelman was tackled was a nice Billsesque touch.
And Jason Croom’s catch gave hope momentum might finally swing our way before swinging it right back with a fumble. That was a fun couple of seconds. Getting hopes up is something we should know to avoid.
Buffalo got pushed around on the ground for a change of pace. The only consolation of most losses to the Patriots is knowing Tom Brady’s arm is too sore on Monday to lift a coffee mug. But he merely had to hand the ball away. I think it’s lazy, but he was still credited with a win despite executing zero kickout blocks.
The only consolation about getting wrecked in Massachusetts is that everyone else hates these results, too. Blues music’s appeal is that misery is universal. Well, almost everyone knows suffering. The Patriots don’t care for how Robert Johnson’s voice is twinged with pain.
Why is this happening? Football brings to mind the big questions. Those enduring ceaseless hardships calculate whether to appreciate how suffering creates strength or just sigh through life’s arbitrary onslaughts. Either way, we may as well extract value out of being walloped by a sack of doorknobs.
Others enjoy success while we ponder why fate was cruel to us, of all people. Bills fans realize we’re the sad narrator in A Fan’s Nores and not Frank Gifford. I don’t know what’s responsible for destiny, but I do know I resent it.
You know football’s bad when time stops working. Take how this year has dragged while flying by. The coda is upon us without it ever feeling like things ever got going. This season has been like not being able to find something worthwhile on Netflix and settling for The Office so we can put on something without really watching. It’s been a largely painful slate that we’re sad to see end, which is part of caring no matter what.
The atrocious opener was fewer than four months ago. I’m sorry to bring up trauma. Buffalo is finishing as historically expected. A franchise that’s 63 games under .500 wasn’t deep enough to change fate.
George R.R. Martin will finish the Game of Thrones books before the Bills are competitive with New England. It’ll be impossible to catch up: there’s no way to ever make it equal with the division’s Freddy Krueger.
The record will always indicate 10 freaking straight divisional wins for the diabolical club that least deserves it. The stain is not going to wash out of our vintage jerseys. Anything dating from the era when our favorite club was semi-competitive counts as a throwback.
Would noting there’s more in life than football help cope with a typically crummy loss? Clichés become overused because they contain truth. Saying something repeatedly doesn’t dilute what’s important.
A medical crisis offers a reminder of what really matters. Buffalo fans spent the third period of Saturday’s Sabres game worrying about best ever announcer Rick Jeanneret’s health instead of cheering for a shutout. They won 3-0 in case anyone was too nervous to follow.
A blessed update was worlds more valuable than two points. That said, perspective shouldn’t stop us from enjoying leisure. There will always be something about which to fret. We can care about weighty issues while still yelling at competitors wearing the wrong jerseys.
Buffalo is a place that doesn’t need taxing circumstances to care. I still feel unnervingly uncanny about having messaged the invaluable This Day in Buffalo Sports History Twitter account earlier Saturday about Rick.
It’s not like we needed a hospitalization scare to be appreciative. But we are even more thankful now for the joyous narration to so many of our hockey memories despite thinking we had maxed out.
Transferring for work is a less dramatic shift. Some present Bills won’t play for the team again after Sunday. Wags might use roster churn as an opportunity to cheer. But this year’s edition is part of our history no matter how forgettable we wish it’d be.
There will always be challenges even if the big picture turns out focused. We wonder why life doesn’t unfold as hoped so often before realizing that letdowns are mostly the norm. The Patriots teach us lessons their own fans miss. Imagine being sad enough to think things would go well.
Editor’s babble: Hopefully everyone belched and slept enough after a big Christmas meal to face the day-after bloat. No wonder most exercise equipment is sold during the holiday season. Thanks to Anthony Bialy for his thought-provoking contributions to our blog. I still sit with a WIKI page open on one tab while I read and edit them! You can find Anthony on Twitter @AnthonyBialy.